“Oh . . . shit,” Damion breathed.
Kaelan’s eyes opened again, but they weren’t green. They were black, though they remained the same shape. His hair had lightened from gold to platinum and grown long, braided back from his temples. The cheekbones were the same, but the lips were different—the Cupid’s bow replaced by a fuller set, the nose straighter and more pointed, the brow lower, the jaw squarer. And since he was in Endreas’s coat, he looked all the more the part. Hero was the only sign of the truth. The rat sat on Kaelan’s shoulder, nibbling his bread, dropping crumbs on the coat, and apparently undisturbed by the transformation.
“I don’t believe it,” Damion said. “That’s incredible.”
“Change back,” Magda said through the tight clench of her throat.
After a long moment, the ripple returned. When it resolved, he was Kaelan again.
“I take it back,” Damion said to her. “You’re not a fool. We can use this.” He turned to Kaelan. “Does it hurt?”
Kaelan shook his head.
“Does it make you tired?”
Kaelan sighed. “Not as much as traveling the Shadow Realms, or healing.”
“Amazing,” Damion said. “Think of the possibilities.”
She fought the urge to drop back to the ground. Whatever Eris had done to Kaelan may not have been draining him, but it had sapped her.
“There won’t be any possibilities if we don’t leave here now,” she said. “How is Honey?”
“Strangely tolerable. She’s not prancing about anymore,” Damion said. “She’s more alert. Her wounds are healing.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here. Damion, you’re with—”
“Honey,” Kaelan finished, swooping in and hooking Magda’s waist. “I’ll fly back with Magda and Gur.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think that’s—” But when she opened her eyes, Damion was already tromping back up the hill to where they’d left Anqa and Honey.
Kaelan guided her through the grasses behind Damion.
“The magic did something to me—” she started.
“You and me both.”
Nothing of his emotions came through his touch. She didn’t know if she was simply too tired or if something else was hindering their connection—Eris’s magic?
“Why did you do it, Magda?”
“Are you all right?” she asked. “I mean—”
“I feel the same,” he said, “but different. It’s hard to explain. But I told you not to—”
“And I told you,” she cut in, “you’ll be safer this way. That’s more important than the money, besides... there are other ways to find cash.”
They crested the hill. Honey hung by Anqa, wearing a dreamy, far-off expression.
Gur stretched his front legs and his wings, yawning.
“About what happened,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry about that,” she murmured. “I should’ve guessed—”
“No, I’m sorry. You warned me not to take my eyes off of Eris. It was my fault.”
“I should’ve given you better warning,” she said.
