“No. I did not.”
I stare at him. My breath is making rapid clouds in the chilled air between us. His black eyes gleam in the firelight, and ice continues to crawl up my blade.
But he’s right. We shot first.
“If you’re going to save him,” Nakiis says, “I would think your time grows short.”
I let the scraver go. My sword drops in the dirt. I pull Malin onto his back. Nakiis didn’t tear his throat out, but nearly. His teeth tore through a stretch of Malin’s jaw, and claws ripped through his shoulder, down into the muscles of his chest and abdomen. I can’t tell if he’s breathing, and there’s no time to check. I just press my hand to the injury and let the sparks and stars of my magic flare.
At first there’s nothing, and I swear.
“You cannot force it,” says Nakiis. His voice is quieter, as if he’s drawn away. “You know this.”
He’s right. I do know this. But there’s so much blood. I’m worried it’s too late, like that first man who was torn apart.
I force myself to take a shuddering breath. To let the magic slip through my fingers. And then, to my surprise, icy wind swirls around me, Nakiis lending his magic to mine. As I watch, the skin of Malin’s jaw begins to pull together, to re-form, leaving nothing but blood smeared on his skin.
I move to the tears in his chest and shoulder, and I have to draw one of my throwing blades to slice the rip in his tunic wider.
I should have started here. Bone glistens through the claw marks. A rib is cracked, maybe two. There’s so much blood that it’s soaked into the fabric underneath him.
But when I touch a hand to the deepest wound and allow my magic to flare, Malin makes a sound, his body jerking a little. His chest expands as he inhales.
“Yes,” I say. “Breathe.”
The next claw mark is easier, especially with Nakiis’s magic swirling through the clearing to share his power. This time Malin whimpers, and his eyelids flicker. That’s almost worse. His hands lift, and he tries to curl in around the pain. But the ribs straighten, the fractures healing, the skin closing. When I touch the next claw mark, his eyes snap open, and he cries out when my magic flares. He’s gained some strength, and he tries to sit up, to fight me, and I actually have to pin him down. His eyes are wide, a little panicked, but there’s still three clawed grooves under his rib cage, deep enough that they’ve nicked vital organs. Blood—and worse things—seep from them all.
I could try to coax him to settle, but I know whatI’dlisten to if I were panicking.
I harden my voice into an order. “Lieutenant.Be still.”
He goes still at once, but he speaks through gritted teeth. “Did you kill it?”
“No. This will hurt at first. Don’t move.” I touch a hand to the next mark.
When the sparks and stars flicker in my vision, he hisses a breath—then lets it out slowly when the pain eases away. “Magic?”
“Yes.” I hesitate, remembering how much fear exists in both countries. It seems silly to ask when the alternative was his death, but I lift my hand. “Is that all right?”
“Yes. I didn’t—I didn’t know you—” He hisses again as I touch the next mark.
“Very few people know,” I say. I add this to the list of things the king will likely hold against me. “I’m not supposed to use it. I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us.”
He nods, then cranes his neck to look out at the darkness. “You didn’t kill it? Where did it—” He freezes, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Tycho. It’s by the trees. Get your bow.”
I glance over. Nakiis has withdrawn a good distance away, and he now sits crouched in the darkness under the trees well across the clearing. Both arrows are still driven through his arm and his wing, because one wing hangs crookedly, while the other is folded tight against his back. He’s breathing hard, and I’m sure he wants to flee, but he clearly can’t fly.
“Neither of you will be getting your hands on a bow, soldier,” Nakiis growls, and that icy wind whips through the trees again.
Malin gasps and tries to sit up.
I sigh and push him back down. “One more.”
But I look over at the scraver again. Our bows are on the ground at his feet.
I suppose I can’t blame him for that.
Malin looks at me and keeps his voice low. “They can talk.”
