Chapter 27: The Eight Seals, Part 5

A bitter, pungent scent caught his nose and made his eyes sting and water, ruining his ability to smell anything else. Raffé went for his sword and realized he was a goddess-damned idiot because he'd left it back at the fire pit. Damn. Well, he was freshly fed and rested; he could take whatever came at him.

He started to turn—and froze as a calloused hand curled around the back of his neck, heavy and warm and even more than three months later, so achingly familiar. His eyes stung anew, unrelated to the smell that was throwing off his senses. "You can't be." It was pitch black, and his eyes were too swollen, too sore and his vision too blurry, for him to see clearly. How was it possible for a damned smell to befoul his senses so? But the thought flew away as he was turned and his face taken in hands he would never forget. "Cambord?"