“Don’t touch me,” I snap.
He steps forward. “Look, you stupid blacksmith. I’m trying toapologizeto you—”
I shove him again, harder this time. He falls back in a way that makes me wonder if he’s really injured, especially when it takes him a moment to catch his balance. But then he straightens, and a familiar annoyance lights in his eyes.
“Are you going to call Tycho to break all my bones?” he says, his tone low and mocking.
“You think I can’t do it myself?” I shove him a third time.
He falls back a step, and for a second, I’m gratified. But then he surges forward, a fist swinging.
I block without realizing it, deflecting the blow and swinging a fist of my own. He’s better than I expect, however, because he dodges and swings again, clipping my jaw before I can regroup. He gets close enough to grapple, and this time, I land a strike. I have a moment where I wonder if we’re going to end up on the ground. Before we can, someone grabs hold of my armor from behind, and suddenly we’re being dragged apart.
“That’s enough,” a voice is saying, but I can barely hear over the rush of my heartbeat in my ears.
I blink, and Sephran has a hand against Lord Alek’s shoulder, holding him back. Alek’s lip is bleeding now, and his eyes are dark and furious.
I have no idea who grabbed me, whether it was Malin or Leo, but I jerk free of their hold. It feels like my own lip is bleeding, and I swipe at it. My father knocked me around often enough that I don’t appreciate the memory, especially since I forgot how much itstings. “What do you want to say to me now?” I snap.
He spits blood at my feet, the derision clear. “I’m sure you can guess.”
I surge forward to take another swing at him, but I’m grabbed from behind again. The king speaks from behind me, his voice low and even. “Jax. I said,enough.”
That shocks me still, jolting the fight right out of me. As if he can tell, the king lets go, and I turn slowly.
It wasn’t Leo or Malin at all.Clouds above.
The king glances between us, his expression stony and unreadable.
I take a step back, then swipe at my lip again. “Sorry,” I say in a rush. “I’m sorry.” Then I repeat it in Emberish— as if the king isn’t fluent in both languages. “I didn’ t— I shouldn’ t—”
He lifts a hand and I stop. My heart twists into a knot as I wait for him to snap or yell or order us all to go back to the forge so we’re out of the way.
But his voice is mild as he says, “Come into the barn. We have a battle to plan.” Then he steps through the doorway, leaving us to follow.
I hesitate, then follow. Sephran shuffles in after me, and I’m glad. I wouldn’t want Alek at my back.
“Tahlas?” he whispers, and it makes me smile. I’ve hardly talked to Sephran since we fled the last town, and there’s a tentative note to his voice.
“Tahlas,” I whisper back, and he claps me on the shoulder.
But then we move farther into the barn, and we’re struck by heavy silence. In the absence of the scraver magic, humid warmth has swelled to fill the space, because it smells like moldy straw and damp horse. But under all of that is the bitter scent from earlier: Infection. Sickness.
It’s dark in here, shadowed with the doors closed and no lanterns to offer light. But as my eyes adjust, I realize Tycho has moved across the barn to drop to a knee beside the two scravers, who are now wrapped up together. The queen and Callyn stand nearby.
The scravers are both alive, but even from here I can tell that Nakiis does not look well. Overhead, it appears that the roof was damaged, because large sections have been torn out. I don’t know if the other scravers did it or if Tycho’s lightning did it— or both— but it’s clear thatsomethingcame through here. Nakiis has his head in Igaa’s lap, and his hands are clutching hers to his chest.
As I watch, Tycho reaches out to rest a hand over his.
Then he looks up and meets my eyes.
I don’t know what I see there, but I know it’s not good.
CHAPTER 37
TYCHO
Nakiis isn’t awake, but he’s still breathing, and when I rest my hand over his, the warmth of his skin pulses into mine. His wings are limply splayed across the ground, but they flicker a little when I touch him. I knew the moment his magic started to fade during the battle, because it no longer felt like a blizzard lived inside my veins, and instead began to feel like the dwindling winter winds that bite at your cheeks just before spring.
