The Blood Ruby (The Arcane Artifacts #2)

Chapter 6 - Salmon Beurre Blanc

I woke to the low murmur of voices, my brain filled with cotton. For a few moments, I lay there, eyes closed, listening to the comforting sound of one in particular. That deep, male voice lulled me in and out.

"...very fortunate, indeed. Have Zola scout the location. It's too much to hope Hassan is alive, but we owe it to him to try. At the least, we will gain answers."

My fingers twitched, pressing against soft fabric. My body was cocooned in a delicious cloud. Fluffy and warm.

"She'll be quick about it," came the answering voice.

"Yes, we may be ready to move against them tonight—tomorrow at the latest." A few more murmurs were exchanged. My brain began to sharpen, thoughts crystalizing one after another. I recalled who the voices belonged to. Then, why I was hearing them—why I was here. That awful realization brought an ache radiating from my neck, towards my left shoulder and jawbone.

My eyelids fluttered in time with my pulse.

"She's waking up," came Laurent's voice. That answered one question. He could hear my heartbeat signaling to him. "Go and speak with Zola."

"Yes, Sire."

My eyes flew open, fixing on the coffered ceiling overhead. I swallowed against the sandpaper feeling in my mouth. My tongue seemed to stick to the roof—

"Here."

A hand slipped beneath my head and shoulders, lifting me. So gently. The rim of a glass pressed to my lips. I opened instinctively. Cool water met my tongue. I took a few swallows and whimpered.

"I know it hurts," Laurent said, keeping his voice low, calm.

My hand rose to my neck, landing on a padded bandage. The events from earlier sharpened. I took a gasping breath, finally remembering everything. His hand retreated. My head sank back into the pillow.

It hurt too much to turn, but my eyes strained and found Laurent sitting at my beside. His broad, muscled body leaned forward to regard me. He was in a billowy cotton tunic, rolled to the elbows, like something from the cover of a romance novel.

"You...you saved...my life..." I managed, my voice scratchy. Talking hurt, even though the injury was on the side of my neck, at my pulse. I wasn't about to thank him; he was the reason I was in this mess. But I wasn't above acknowledging it. Especially after his warning from last night, his claim that he'd let me die and save himself the trouble.

His gaze darted over my face.

"The doctor informs me you will make a full recovery." A breath blew from my lips. "Unfortunately, the damage was extensive. I fear that when I ripped Henrietta off of you, she took some flesh with her." I groaned, disgusted, devastated. "So, there will be scarring. But something tells me that is of no consequence to you."

I closed my eyes, processing. Did it matter? I was alive. Given everything, scarring seemed to be the least important thing to worry about.

"You'll be stuck in bed for a few days, I'm afraid." He didn't sound too worried about that aspect.

I managed an angry huff, though I'd wanted to laugh. "Can't...can't escape if...I'm stuck..."

"No, I daresay you cannot. Do you recall our conversation before you fell unconscious?" His piercing silver gaze bored into me—a warning. I swallowed, then nodded. "Good. I'm curious, how long have you lived in Braxton?"

I didn't want to give him anything about myself. Didn't owe him anything. Still, I said, "Three years."

"And before that?"