She didn’t stir. I touched her chest, just to be certain her heart was beating. I felt the dull thud and closed my eyes, uncaring that there were dozens and dozens around us. I shifted her in my arms until her back was against my chest, the earth hard beneath me as the sun crested over the taller peaks in the valley.
I kept my magic as a presence, something to guide her back to me. I wasn’t a patient person, but I had to be now. And when the sunlight finally touched my skin, I felt her shift in my arms.
“Amaia,” I murmured quickly, my heart jolting. I could hearSyris’s sharp intake of breath. When Amaia’s bloodshot green eyes blearily opened, just a fraction, I took advantage, casting my magic over her like a blanket. “Take it,mariss.”
Like she was starving, I could feel the way she grasped onto me, like I’d given her a tether to this world and she held on for dear life.
She drank in my magic, letting it fill all the aches, all the corners of pain that she’d had to absorb into her body.
I didn’t know how many she’d healed tonight. But I remembered seeing the glow of her magic, reflecting down on the darkened battlefield—because that was what it’d become—more times than I could count. And every time I’d wanted to go to her, to help her recharge her magic or to berate her for leaving the safety of my dwelling, another Elthika had veered for the village and we had needed to chase them down.
“That’s it,” I breathed. “Take it all.”
She gasped, like it was the first deep breath she’d been able to take all night. And while her face still looked pale and sallow, some of the life returned to her eyes and she was able to stay conscious.
“Better,” she said, her voice quiet, shaking. “Kakkira vor.” Thank you.
But I could see the pain she was still trying to shield from me, even if she was able to sit up.
“Are they all right?” she asked.
A sound left my throat. I looked up at the gathered crowd.
“Amaia,” Tarkosh said, crouching down to meet her eyes, “you saved five Elthika, four riders, and nine villagers. No one has died tonightbecauseof you.”
No one?There had been no casualties from the attack?
I closed my eyes, a prick of relief, of gratitude swelling in me. And when my gaze flashed open, I saw the Grymian villagers had their heads bowed, a sign of respect.
When I looked at Amaia, there were tears ushering into hereyes. Clear ones. When they dripped down her cheeks, they helped wash away some of the crusted, red blood. The tears, I thought, were in relief. A weight lifted off her shoulders, perhaps, when I knew Gethrin’s death sat heavy on her.
I rose from the ground, cradling Amaia in my arms.
“She needs rest,” I said. “All of us do.”
“What if they come back?” came Dresnar’s question, his jaw tight. “I’ll take the first watch.”
I nodded. “I’ll join you, once I get her situated. But I don’t think they’ll be back today. Hopefully for a while.”
There were two dead Elthika lying on the outer fields. Two of the wild Elthika, one of them Samryn had killed, his jaws clamping deep.
I didn’t like to seeanydead Elthika. It was a tragedy. They’d been desperate. I’d felt it myself. But it still didn’t change the fact that Grymia had been in danger. They could’ve killed many more of my people.
I left the landing field, knowing Myzalla would organize tasks, though I knew the priority was rest for most of the villagers. My riders had fought valiantly and endlessly tonight.
We were silent as I navigated us back to my dwelling, cutting through the village off the main road, the quickest path. When I brought Amaia inside, into the cool quiet, I released a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
I took her into the washing room, undressing her carefully as the bathing pool filled with steaming water. Every wince she tried to hide from me made my gut twinge.
I carried her into the pool after I undressed. Though I knew I needed to get back to the village, to help with the repairs, I would allow myself this moment with her. I needed the brief reprieve, if only to assure myself that she was…well. Alive. Breathing. Warm. The vision of her sprawled on the landing field was still quick in my mind.
“You’re all right?” came Amaia’s quiet voice when I settled usback, when I began to scrub at the dried blood covering her hands.
“I’m fine,” I answered, water trickling.
“And Samryn?”
I met her eyes. The green against her blood-streaked face was vibrant. “He’s unharmed.”
