Page 69 of Enchanted Village

His glacial eyes fastened on her exposed thighs and calves, on the blood smearing the skin and her hands. It looked worse than it was—dragon scratches always did—but the blood seemed to do something to Silas’s brain that made his entire being stutter.

“What happened?” he said, hurrying across the room and sliding on the ground to meet her and take her hands.

“Careful,” she said, pulling her hands away from him. She hated the wounded expression that crossed his face when she did this, so she hurried to explain.

“Dragon talons are poisonous,” she said. “I don’t want you to get any on your hands.”

Silas, looking thoroughly affronted, whipped around to where Bernie was circling them in the air.

“You’ve been poisonous this entire time?”

Bernie huffed through her nostrils as if to say, Obviously.

“Bernie,” Margaret forced out through gritted teeth. Already, the poison was seeping through the cut, making her brain foggy. “The kit’s above m-my bed.”

“I can get it,” Silas said, but Bernie was already off, zooming through the air and up the stairs. Within moments, she had returned, a red bag in her talons that she dropped near Silas’s hand.

Silas picked it up, threw off the fastener, and looked at Margaret.

“What do I do, Margaret?” he asked.

“There’s an ointment,” Margaret said, fighting the stars that were starting to cloud her vision. “You’ll see. It says Bite Away. And there are wipes to clean it with, too. Use those first.”

He found them, ripped the packaging off, and swiped them across her skin. Vaguely, she was aware of his hands on her skin, of the gentle way his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin of her thighs and calves. But her vision was starting to fade, and it was a fight to keep her eyes open.

“Margaret,” he said, his voice deep and warm, an anchor her mind tried to cling to.

There was something oily and smooth on his fingers now, and it stung when he pressed it to her skin. She smelled it, too, something like antiseptic ice. She heard Silas’s voice—her name again—and thought she also heard the steady beat of Bernie’s wings.

Then she slipped into the blackness, and she heard nothing at all.

When Margaret woke up, there was starlight glittering through her window and a dragon curled up at her side.

There was also a man sitting on the floor beside her bed, his head tilted back to rest on the wall behind him. He had messy, slightly curly dark hair and the slightest bit of stubble coming through on his jaw. There was a stiffness in his body that told Margaret he had not fallen asleep easily, and the realization that she was why bit into her harder than Bernie’s talons had.

She forced herself to sit up, and Bernie snapped her jaws affectionately as she did. She saw remorse in those amber eyes and gave Bernie a scratch under her chin.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Margaret said. “We all cut each other sometimes by accident. You’re still my favorite.”

Bernie purred, then settled her head back down on Margaret’s bed. Margaret found she was still in her dress, and there was crusted blood on the hem. Her thighs and calves had been wrapped in gauze, though, which she appreciated. She tiptoed over to her small bathroom, careful not to further disturb dragon or man as she examined herself behind the closed bathroom door.

Upon unwrapping the gauze, she saw that the ointment had done its work, not just curing the poison but replenishing her skin underneath as well. It was bright pink but no longer in ribbons, and there was only the slightest bruising sensation when she touched it.

Unfortunately, her face was another matter entirely—not because of the poison but because she’d clearly gone to bed with her makeup still on, a cardinal sin that Margaret never committed. She washed her face, combed her curls with her fingertips, and brushed her teeth, already feeling thoroughly less poisoned.

It was then that a thought hit her, one she hadn’t realized in the moments after Silas had appeared, on account of said poisoning.

Silas had come back.

I got as far as changing at the inn.

And then he’d returned to her.

To check on her.

Because he’d known that she needed him.

She opened the bathroom door now and peeked over, finding that he had woken up and was gingerly petting Bernie, who was cooing happily at the touch. At the sight of Margaret, though, Silas ceased the motion and stood up, hurrying over to her.