Mermaid Tear (The Fated #2)

03 | Reality

Callias didn't wake up.

For two days, Kain watched as the merman slept like the dead. He didn't stir with nightmares, nor did he twitch a finger. The only sign the gods had managed to save him was the slow rise and fall of his blanketed chest.

The task felt like the only thing holding him together. It was as if as long as Callias was breathing, Kain could, too. Afterall, to Melitta, her brother had been her life.

Occasionally, exhaustion would slip Kain's lids shut for the faintest second, before alarm would thrust him awake as he thought that, just maybe, Callias had moved.

It never happened.

Eventually, despite his wishes, Kain was forced back on a cot by Natia's insistent, soft whines. There, he passed out for an unknown length of time. When he woke, only the cotton-stuffed state of his head accompanied by the buzz of energy in his bones told him that the moon had likely drifted high into the sky. Had the entire day passed while he slept?

Soft gemlight illuminated the midnight hours of the infirmary with an almost bewitching glow. His hands sunk into the cot as he pushed himself into a seated position to study his dozing companions. Natia had curled up next to him, her muzzle over the top of the blanket covering his ankles. Mara and Rhode were nowhere in sight.

Callias hadn't moved.

"I think it has something to do with whatever it was the gods' pulled."

The tired, cranky voice drew Kain's gaze to where Isidor leaned against the wall near the infirmary exit, his frame outlined by the night's lingering shadows. Careful not to wake Natia, Kain shifted around on the cot so he could rest his back against the headboard.

"His continued sleep?" Kain asked.

The witch nodded. "The magic they pulled must have exhausted what little energy he had left. Not only is Callias a merfolk far from the ocean, but he brushed death and had gods playing with his soul. Waking will take time."

Kain grimaced. Time was one thing they didn't have in ample supply.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, too?" he asked instead of voicing his thoughts.

Isidor rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

Kain shook his head. He had expected the answer, but still, the lie was outlined clearly through Isidor's oddly gaunt features and darkened, gold tinged eyes. It was a color he typically only saw in witches when they were casting heavy magics.

"You're exhausted."

"I know my body best. I'm fine," Isidor retorted. "Besides, it is a healer's job to watch as the injured recover."

It clicked. Isidor wanted to see Callias wake up before he truly rested. Likely, he had slept during their initial parting--as the boy had been practically dead on his feet--but, since returning had been watching and waiting. There was nothing for Kain to argue if that were the case--he'd tried the exact same thing until Natia had guilted him into sleep.

"Besides, aren't there more important issues to deal with than me?" Isidor continued.

A mix of wariness and anticipation swept through Kain with the question. It simultaneously reinvigorated and eviscerated his seemingly hollow chest. Despite the hour, his heart felt like a festering wound, as if every inch of him had been scraped raw. The image of those final moments encircled his mind like a curse. Even now, his fingers felt sticky, as if despite how many times he'd washed them, they were still caked in warm blood.

Isidor was right, concern could wait.

"What did they find?"

The kid tilted his head back against the wall behind him. "As expected, the attack had to have come from behind the passage. Those on the wall saw no strangers amongst them and there were no holes in the goddess' shield before us."