“If I am to keep my vow,” I say to him, “if you’re going to need me tofight at your side, then at some point you’re going to have to trust me.”
“You shot me out of the sky.”
I wince. “I know. But I explained why.” I change tack. “Why are your scravers attacking the people of Emberfall? If that’s what you expect me to do, I’m not going to be a very willing ally. I told you I’m not a mercenary.”
“They are notmyscravers.” He glances at me over his shoulder, and his voice is bitter. “And I clearly need no help attacking humans.”
Well. I suppose that’s true.
I consider what Jax heard during the first attack. “Who is Xovaar?” I say. “Is that one of the scravers who was with you in Briarlock?”
“How do you know that name? Did he find you?”
My hand goes still, because I can’t quite figure out his tone. “Almost,” I say. “One of the scravers who attacked said it. They were looking for a magesmith.”
Nakiis is quiet for a long moment, and then, without warning, he whips his head back toward the fire. “You will keep your distance, soldier.”
I look up. Malin has crossed half the distance between us. He found a new tunic, but he didn’t waste time washing any blood from his skin, and he’s fully armed, ready for battle. He stops and folds his arms, his eyes hard.
“I’ll stay here,” he says. “But if you tear Tycho apart, I don’t have magic to fix him.”
“He won’t tear me apart,” I call back. If Nakiis wanted to kill me, he’s had ample opportunity before now. “Why is Xovaar looking for a magesmith?” I say to him.
Nakiis says nothing for the longest moment. “If he finds you, he will kill you.”
“I know. Trust me, the other scravers haven’t been subtle about it.” My hand finds the second wound, and Nakiis hisses. Malin’s hand goes for his sword, and that hiss turns into another growl.
“Steady,” I say, and I’m really talking to both of them. I let my magic work, but the stars and sparks in my veins seem to flicker. I haven’t used this much power in a while, and I run my free hand across my forehead. Too late, I realize I’m dragging blood across my face.
I glance over again before they start another fight. “Stand down, Lieutenant.” I think of what I said earlier, about making amends. “Nakiis is an ally. He saved our king during the battle against the Truthbringers.He protected the queen and the princess. He only attacked because we were shooting at him.”
His hand hesitates on his sword. “Truly?”
I nod. The arrow wound heals, and I run my fingers along the blood-soaked feathers, settling them back into place.
Before I’m done, Nakiis snaps his wings closed, jerking away from any contact. In a heartbeat of time, he’s ten feet overhead, clinging to a branch. His black eyes bore into mine. I never fixed his arm, but he’s clearly done.
Fine. He wants to stick to business? I can stick to business.
“Who is he?” I say. “What does he want?”
Nakiis stares back at me, but says nothing.
I sigh, then roll to my feet and move away, collecting my armor as I go. I pull the breastplate over my head and buckle it into place.
“Magesmith,” he growls.
I don’t stop. “My name is Tycho.”
“Tycho.”
I bend to buckle my greaves. “What?”
Wind whips through the clearing to dust up the leaves again. The air is full of his magic, and I shiver as ice forms on the toes of my boots and the buckles of my armor.
“Listen to the magic,” he says. “Hear it like a voice. Feel it like a touch.”
My hands go still, and I strain to feel anything different from what I already know. At first, all I feel is magic: the ice-cold wind, the bitterness against my cheeks. I recognize it, but there’s nothing unique. Just simple power in the air, no different from mine, no different from Grey’s.
