“Ah.” I lean back on my hands. “You’re just protecting me so I can keep up my end of our bargain.”
He surveys me silently again.
“I don’t believe that,” I say. “When Grey burned out his magic, you brought me food and water before I ever agreed to help you.”
I remember that night so clearly. Grey was unconscious. His horse was dead. Mercy was lame. I was starving and thirsty and everything was terrible. When Nakiis showed up, I thought he was going to kill me—but instead he brought me full water skins and a goose for me to roast over the fire.
“I led your horse through the woods, too,” he says. “When you were in no shape to ride.”
I frown. “When?”
“After you let that man stab a hole in your chest.” He scoffs again. “The day after we fought in the arena. Did you never think to let your magic recover before engaging in another battle?”
For a second, I have no idea what he’s talking about, and my mind is spinning. I’ve only been stabbed once, but Nakiis had nothing to do with it. “Are you talking about the night I fought with Alek?”
“Yes.”
I realign my memories, shuffling through what happened. It was the night after I broke Nakiis out of his cage. By the time I ran into Alek, I was exhausted and my magic had been depleted. When he stabbed me, I barely survived. I remember riding out of Briarlock, dazed from blood loss, but after that, the night is a complete blank.
Grey said Mercy carried my unconscious body up to the palace gates. I was covered in snow and soaked in blood. They all thought I was dead.
All this time, I thought Mercy found her own way home.
I can’t stop staring at Nakiis. Those black eyes are staring back at me implacably.
“Why?” I finally ask. “Why did you help me?”
“Do you need to ask? Why did you let me out of the cage?”
I don’t know what to say. The answer seems obvious, but . . . ?maybe it’s not.
Maybe he feels the same way. It’s weird, this wary trust that’s formed between us.
“If you are trapped in the palace,” he eventually says, “it may be difficult for me to return. To find you when I need you.”
“I won’t betrapped,” I say, though I already feel shackled by Grey’s orders. I have to shake it off or I’ll tell Nakiis to gut me again. “I’ve been ordered to stay on the grounds, but I’ll be allowed to train. And I have to keep Mercy fit. There are trails into the mountains that surround thepalace. If I start making regular runs with Mercy, I don’t think anyone would be suspicious.”
He considers this. “If youtrainalone, you must be cautious with your magic. I will find you when I can.”
“I could whistle for you,” I say.
He bares the edge of his fangs. “You couldwhistlefor me?”
I really meant no offense, but he sounds so affronted that I smile. “Sure.” I whistle low, through my teeth. “Like a dog.”
He tackles me to the ground, but for the first time, it’s not violent. I’m not sure it’splayful, because his claws land over my neck again—but it’s rough-and-tumble in a way that makes me think of Malin, and I laugh under my breath. My heart still aches from everything that’s happened with the king and with Jax, but I’m glad to discover that Nakiis is becoming . . .
A friend?Not quite. But he’s becomingsomething.
“All right, all right,” I drawl. “Put your claws away. I won’t whistle.”
He lets me up, his claws dragging against my skin, but there’s no threat to it. I brush dirt and grass out of my hair as the wind recedes, and I think about how desperately he bargained for a week of my help—after he’d been bound and tortured by a magesmith once before. How every time he’s been in my presence, he’s either kept his distance, or he’s pinned me to the ground with fangs and claws.
I know what it’s like to be desperate. I know what it’s like to feelvulnerable.
“You didn’t need to bind me with a vow,” I say quietly. “If you truly need my help, I’ll help you. Just tell me what it is. What you need.”
Wind whips across the fields, ruffling his wings, the cold sneaking under my armor. He inhales like he’s going to speak, but then his head snaps around. I follow his gaze to see shadows shifting in the distance. New torches are being lit by guards and soldiers as they change shifts and positions.
