I lift my replacement wand. Her whole body flinches.
With my free hand I cup her chin. Her skin is cold, goosefleshed; she shivers at the contact as though she no longer remembers what touch is.
Her pupils respond normally. No obvious head trauma—though that means little when she’s just crawled out of a magical blast crater. I angle her face this way and that, studying, pretending I don’t notice how perfect the curve of her jaw is or how my thumb wants to linger.She is so beautiful.
“Pupils dilating—good,” I murmur for my own benefit. “No obvious head injury. The blast must have knocked you flat. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Her throat works. No sound.
“Let me help you up.”
She doesn’t move. Shock or calculation—I still can’t tell.
I sweep my wand in a lazy arc and mutter a light spell. A sphere of pale gold blooms, washing over the undergrowth.
What I do know is that she’s barefoot, shaking, and if I leave her here she’ll either die of exposure or bolt into the trees and vanish.
Neither option is acceptable.
“It’s all right. I’m Lander, Lander Kane, council operative. You’re safe. I’m sorry the first responders missed you. We’re lucky it’s June. You could have died of exposure if the weather were colder. Where are your shoes? The blast must have blown them off,” I improvise. “I’ll have to carry you, if that’s okay.”
I don’t wait for an answer. I slide one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lift. She makes a tiny, strangled sound that runs straight down my spine.
“It’s all right,” I murmur.
She weighs less than she should. I adjust my grip, cradling her against my chest with one arm while I brush stray branches aside with the other. She keeps her gaze fixed somewhere near my collar, refusing to meet my eyes. Her heartbeat hammers against my ribs.
Arthur flaps to a branch ahead and leads the way out of the hollow, his dark eyes following us with unnerving focus.
Up close, the woman smells of smoke and scorched greenery, and something else beneath that—almonds, vanilla, a metallic edge. The scent sparks the part of me bound to Arthur, the part that recognises animals and magic.
I tell myself it’s merely my power logging an anomaly—nothing more.
“We’ll get you to a healer,” I say, keeping my tone gentle, “then home.”
“Th-thank you,” she whispers.
Her voice surprises us both. Raw, hoarse, threaded with the careful politeness of theterrified.
I hate that she’s so frightened. Yet I prefer honest fear to that blank nothing. Talking is a good sign.
Arthur hops down to a nearby branch, head cocked. He likes her, I realise with a jolt. A harsh caw makes her flinch; she turns her head towards him as though she expects comfort.
“A familiar?” I ask. The lie tastes like dirt. Familiars haven’t been seen for more than two centuries, but I don’t want her thinking Arthur is mine to call.
When she stays silent, I shift tack. “Were you alone? Do we need to search for friends?”
“Alone,” she whispers.
I duck under the crash-site tape and the warded cordon, nullifiers buzzing against my skin.
“I’m sorry I haven’t any healing potions,” I say as we walk. “It’s been a long day, and I’m magically tapped out.”
Another lie. My power coils just beneath my skin—eager, smoky. I keep it banked; the last thing I need is to spook someone who crawled out of a ley line unscathed, as though she is magic.
Arthur stirs at the back of my mind, restless, fascinated.
“I heard about the explosion and came to investigate,” I continue, filling the silence and testing her reaction. “I’m glad I did. I’m glad you’re safe.”
