“Thank you,” I say to Nakiis. I tuck the twist of steel into my pouch, then reach out a hand. “Here, I can fix your injuries.”
He takes a step back. “No magic. The others will sense it, and I cannot afford for them to attackyou.”
I stare at him, trying to puzzle that out. “The other scravers?”
He nods. “The others followed the trail of magic to the palace. They know more magesmiths have gathered here. Xovaar and the others are set to attack.”
“The trail of magic? I haven’t used any magic.”
“Not you.”
I frown. Did the king do something? The queen? Has something happened?
I turn for Mercy. “Mal. We need to warn Grey. We need—”
Nakiis reaches out and grabs my arm. His claws dig into the few inches of skin above my bracer. “I am not ready to stand against them.”
“I don’t care! I need to warn him!”
He shifts close. “Xovaar’s scravers are here to kill all of you, Tycho. If they killyou, they will eventually kill me, and then they will kill what’s left of my people.”
I try to wrench free, but his grip is too strong. I reach for a dagger with my free hand, but Nakiis is quick, and he tackles me to the ground. Mercy spooks, and the dagger goes skittering away.
I heave against his weight, but he has my chest pinned. I can’t dislodge him. I gasp against the strain, just as sparks and stars flicker in my blood.
“I have a clean shot,” Malin calls.
“If you kill me,” Nakiis says, “nothing changes. You both die. My people all die. There are too many of them.”
My chest heaves. Magic flares in my veins, and bitter wind swirls around us. I once worried this vow might pit me against Grey.
I never thought my vow to Nakiis would prevent me fromhelpinghim.
The scraver looks down into my face. “You made a vow to stand besideme. And I will make sure you live to keep it.”
I strain against his hold. There are too many angles here. Too many people who need me—and too many people to disappoint.
As usual, my choices aren’t my own, and my life is bound to another.
I look up into Nakiis’s black eyes. “Shoot him,” I say.
Before the words are even out, ice-cold wind rushes through the trees, and Malin’s shot goes wide. He swears, and sunlight glints as he draws a blade. Somewhere overhead a scraver shrieks.
I’m not the main target here, and we’re wasting time. “Go,” I shout to Malin. “Warn the king.”
Hoofbeats echo before I’m even done speaking.
I draw a slow breath and feel the magic in my blood, trying to convince it to settle. I need to be calm. I need to think.
“Please,” I say to Nakiis. “I can help him.Youcan help him. He once helped you.”
Those dark eyes bore into mine. “It is bigger than that, Tycho.”
I struggle under his grip, and it reminds me of the night he pinned me in the arena of the tourney. He’s not heavy, but he’s strong enough to trap me here all day.
“How long does he have?” I say desperately. “When will the scravers attack?”
There’s a part of me that doesn’t expect him to answer, but he does. His grip doesn’t loosen one bit, but he leans down close, and his breath is like ice.
