“Now,” I say. It’s always my answer. Any time I’m allowed to give Nemeth more blood, I will. Riza won’t let me donate too much because she worries for my health and that of the baby, but we’ll manage. Nemeth needs me more than anything.

Riza just nods and then gets out the needles. She takes blood from my arm, moves to him, and injects it. I lean against him, rubbing his bare skin as if my touch will somehow make it circulate faster in his body.

“I’ll leave you alone with him,” she tells me in a soft voice. “The healers will come by again shortly. Call if you need anything.”

I nod, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. Is it just me, or is the rash on his neck fading? Or am I seeing that because I desperately want to see that? He’s still sweating and unconscious, his wings trembling against his back.

Forcing myself to sit up, I find the bowl of water Riza’s left nearby. It’s still warm, so I dip the towel in and wipe Nemeth’s skin down. “I know you’re sick and you probably want to join the Gray God in his realm, but allow me to tell you all the ways I think that is a terrible idea.” I keep my tone light and flirty, so perhaps he’ll hear it somewhere deep inside and respond. “First and foremost, you’re needed here. You’re the only one of First House that remains, which makes you the king. I know you probably don’t want to be the king, but I think you’d make an excellent one. You’d be kind and sympathetic to the humans because you married a particularly fantastic one, and the Fellians would follow you. Truly, if you were on the throne it’d be ideal for both parties.”

I continue bathing him, even though I’m so tired I want to curl up next to him and sleep for a week. But if I don’t bathe him, one of the nurses will come in and do so, and I’d rather it be my hands that he wakes up to instead of that of a stranger. I want him to be touched with love. If everything that’s happened is true—and I suspect it is—Nemeth broke ties with what his family wanted because he loved me.

That’s why he hid me when we arrived. Even then, he was protecting me.

So now I’m going to protect him. I stroke the damp cloth over his chest, then move to his other arm. “Let me tell you a bit of what it’ll be like if you decide to die on me. First of all, I have it on great authority that there is no war poetry allowed in the Gray God’s realm. You know how much he loves peace, and I’m afraid that war poetry is simply out of the question.”

I move the cloth over his fingers, my heart stuttering when I come across the bite on his palm. Mine hasn’t the sharp outline that his does on my skin, but he’s always been so proud of it. If he was truly using me, he’d have never had me give him my bite. He could have omitted it from our mating and I would have been none the wiser.

All the signs have been there all along that he truly has loved me. I lean in and press a kiss to his knuckles, then continue.

“Second of all, your brothers are probably in the Gray God’s realm as we speak. All the more reason to stay here with me a while longer.” I gaze down at him, but he’s so very still he makes my heart ache. Why won’t he wake? It’s been three days. Most that die of the plague die within a day or two. The fact that he’s survived over three days with the sickness is a good sign, I hope. I won’t know for certain until he opens his eyes and smiles at me.

So I continue.

“Third, the Gray God loves storms, and I know you do not.” I sit down next to him, tired and a little defeated. I towel his chest, forcing a smile to my face that I don’t feel. “Remember when we were back in the tower and you heard storms for the first time? You were convinced we were under siege and you were going to take me captive as leverage.” My voice breaks, and I catch a ragged breath. “You were so unnerved, and I never stopped to think that a storm might sound different above ground. Here I thought I was being so very brave and I never stopped to think how difficult it might be for you, too. That you were getting pressured by your family over me. You could have let me die a half-dozen times and solved the problem, and yet you always took care of me. You always looked out for me. If you were sent to seduce me, you did a shite job of it, love. I seduced you, remember? I was the one that pushed for us to have sex. For us to play together. For us to just enjoy each other’s bodies. And I guess that leads me to the biggest reason why you have to stay.” I suck in a ragged breath. “You can’t leave me behind.”

A knot forms in my throat, tight and hot, and I clutch his hand in mine, waiting for the stupid tears to pass so I can speak. I swallow hard and try to continue.

“I know it’s been tough since we’ve arrived here in Darkfell. I know you kept some secrets from me. But you’re not allowed to leave me behind. You’re not allowed to leave our child behind. I love you. I love you and I need—more than anything—to talk to you right now. So I’m going to need you to come back to me as soon as possible. I’m probably going to stomp my foot at the secrets you were keeping, and you’re probably going to tell me that you had no choice, and then we’ll fall into bed together and kiss and we’ll be together again.”

That stupid knot in my throat returns. What if the last memory he has of me is that awful scene at the dinner? What if he dies thinking I hate him? Tears spill down my face and I press desperate kisses to his knuckles.

He’s not allowed to leave me behind. That was never part of the plan.

“Don’t…cry…”

I gasp, clutching his hand tighter. Nemeth’s eyes are open, just a slit. “Oh! Nemeth!” His eyes flutter shut again, and I want to yank them back open, want him to sit up and talk to me. Something. Anything. “Nemeth?”

“This…is the part where…I should…be groveling at your feet…”

A sob escapes me. “You should, it’s true. But I’m in a magnanimous mood.” I cradle his hand to my chest. “You look like shite, love.”

He grunts. “Candra…”

“I know. Don’t spend your strength trying to explain to me.”

Nemeth frowns. “But…”

“You need to explain? Let me try to help you.” I bring his hand to my cheek, pressing a kiss to his thumb. My heart overflows with joy. “Your brother Ivornath concocted a plan with Meryliese to destroy the Liosian army and they triggered the curse and sent you to the tower anyhow. Am I right?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t know…never saw your sister. Just knew Ivornath was up to something.”

I pat his stomach. “Then we amend that. All right then. Your brother was up to something. He sent you to the tower with instructions to seduce me and win me to Darkfell’s side. And when you met me, you hated the idea.”

Nemeth’s eyes flutter closed again. His skin is such a strange shade of gray, blotched with the plague’s rash livid and dark against his neck. “Didn’t hate…idea. Liked it…liked you…too much.”

“Dragon shite,” I tell him in a wobbly voice, near to tears again. “They might have told you to seduce me, they might have told you to report back on me, but you didn’t have to take me as your mate. I would have been happy to be your paramour. Instead, you wanted us together. You wanted us to be mated, to give me your bite. To make me your wife. You didn’t use me like Ivornath used Meryliese. You loved me.”

“Still do.” His fingers lift from my cheek and he traces my mouth. “Understand…if you…no longer love…me.”

“Dragon shite,” I say again.

“Or trust me.”

“More dragon shite. You’re going to get better. I’m going to keep giving you my blood, and you’re going to get better. You know my blood is the cure for the plague? It’s been keeping you alive. We’re going to get you well, my love. And then we’re going to rule Darkfell together. We’re going to combine our kingdoms and make the world a better place for those of us that have survived.”

He smiles at me, tired, but the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.