“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
Nakiis doesn’t answer this either, but magic carries her words down to me anyway.
—My name is Igaa, magesmith.
“Well met,” I call up to her. When my eyes return to Nakiis, I say, “She’s friendlier than you are.”
His eyes narrow, but he lets go of my wrist. I rest my fingertips against the broad muscle of his chest and let the magic work again.
He must have been in more pain than he was letting on, because he lets out a breath, and this time, his frame sags as the bruising disappears. I reach for the knife wound, and he shakes his head.
“Let me try,” I say. “Maybe I can heal the infection.”
After a moment, he nods again, and I lightly rest my fingertips over the wound. He hisses a breath, his fangs bared, but he’s very still.
I wasn’t really sure my magic would do anything at all, but the infectiondoesbegin to dissolve away, the swelling lessening.
“This looks like it’s days old,” I say to him. “I told you before. If you need help, you can come to me. I’ll help you.”
Nakiis says nothing, but from above, Igaa says,—I told him to return to you.
I glance up at her. “Do you know why Xovaar attacked him?”
—He knows Nakiis can identify many of the remaining magesmiths. Xovaar’s human allies do not know everyone the king has shared his magic with.
I turn that around in my head, and I look back at the injured scraver in front of me. The bruising is entirely gone, along with the arrow wound across his bicep, though that one left a scar. The knife wound is seeping blood, but the pus and infection are gone.
I don’t look at any of that, though. I’m studying his face. “You’re protecting me again.”
Nakiis scoffs and looks away. “Someone has to. The king’s magic is known, but he is surrounded by armed guards and soldiers. One could question their loyalty, but it would be hard for a small number of scravers to attack him successfully.” He pauses and glances at Malin, then back to me. “Youare not as protected.”
“You said that Xovaar wants what was taken. Does that mean he’s trying to reclaim magic somehow?”
He’s silent for a moment, regarding me.
Igaa’s voice finds me again—or maybe it finds us both.
—Trust him, Nakiis.
I snort under my breath and shift my gaze back to Nakiis. “Maybeshe’sthe one who should be my friend.”
“Are we friends, Tycho?”
There’s a note in his voice that gives me pause. It reminds me of that moment in the tent with Rhen, when he practically asked the same thing.
Before Rhen betrayed me by telling Grey what I’d confided in him.
“I think we could be,” I say.
He glances up at Igaa, then looks back at me. “You knew my father,” he says. “You knew the scravers were once treaty bound to remain in the ice forests of Iishellasa.”
“I know you left Iishellasa—and Iisak followed.”
Nakiis nods. “The last queen of Syhl Shallow would have been within rights to punish us both for breaking the treaty. She didn’t capture me, but she captured my father.”
“Yes,” I say. “But Grey negotiated for his freedom. And now that Lia Mara is in power, she wouldn’t restrict the scravers to Iishellasa. I told you that.”
