Hide.
“Sorrel.” Now he’s sharp with me. “Can you hear aught?”
As I reach up, he captures my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re bleeding—”
“Shh.”
When he falls silent, I go for his face again. My fingers make contact with his temple and then the scar that intersects his pale eye. His skin is warm, and where he might have a beard it remains smooth, though I don’t think he shaved this morning. More than this, I notice his eyelashes. They’re thick and long on the top, thick and short on the bottom, and the frame they make serves to emphasize his deep-set, intense stare.
And that is all.
For the first time in my life, I have the details that every other person registers in the normal course of things: Eye color, placement, lashes. And where the individual’s stare is directed.
Merc’s is not leaving mine.
“I’m getting you to shade,” he says brusquely.
When he goes to pick me up, I stop his hand with a light touch. “Your blade. Let me see it.”
“What—”
“Please, I need to… see myself.”
He’s impatient with the request, but he unsheathes the heavy weapon, and though we shouldn’t garner more attention from things that come out of the sky, I have to know.
Directing the blade, I angle it to my face.
And meet my own eyes.
All I see—all I’ve ever seen—is their strange pale irises and the pupils in the center. I’ve never gotten a hint of my own death, and it’s been something I’ve always been grateful for.
Like the host must not know of its own demise.
“Let me check the back of your head.” Keeping the sword steady, Merc lifts my torso up gently and cranes around behind me. “No blood.”
The relief in his voice warms me, but I can’t dwell on it. My brain is scrambling as it tries to frame within my previous experience the lack of—
The broadsword is sheathed, and I feel his hands go behind my shouldersand under my knees. I’m lifted with care from the rocks, and Merc’s long strides take us over toward the dead bird. He goes around the now-tumbled boulder pile, and finds a wedge of shadow to put me in.
“Look at me, Sorrel.”
I take a deep breath. Maybe I got nothing because I hit my head? Or the chase has exhausted me? And I could always resume my normal course and avoid his gaze, except then I’d never know whether the anomaly is this situation or him.
My focus swings back to him and I tighten my grip on his surcoat again…
Though I’m in the cooler shade, the brilliant sun slants into his face. I see now that there is a faint delineation between the dark iris and pupil, and I recognize this because of the way his uninjured eye adjusts to the ray’s intensity.
“I’m going to check your stare,” he informs me.
I almost laugh as he carefully pulls my lids apart on the right side, then the left. As he exhales, his mouth lifts into a brief smile of approval.
“What do you see?” I ask hoarsely.
“If you hit your head, you’re all right.” He sits back and brings up my wounded arm for inspection. “I’ve had many a man knocked in the skull, and if their eyes aren’t the same, they die shortly thereafter. Now let’s see about this bleeding.”
The rocks against my back are no more comfortable than the ground was, and yet I recline into their bumpy profile as Merc curses and then goes to work on the fastenings down the outer coat. Meanwhile, I just stare into his face.
Maybe the curse is over.
