But not enough. Not enough to keep it here and get answers.
Frustration and anger and near-blinding pain swirled as Brela bit back the scream she wanted to unleash into the night. She whirled and opened her mouth to demand answers from the people following at a safe distance.
Her teeth clacked shut.
Words. She forgot how to form words. Forgot how to speak their language after being tangled with the consciousness of the celvusa.
Blinking, she tried to remember the patterns her mind could still make as she signed.Where is it?
Elias stepped closer, his form still fuzzy around the edges as he signed and spoke. “Where is what?”
Words. That’s what they sounded like.
The celvusa.
He shook his head. “It got away.”
A broken rasp of air escaped her mouth as she tried to swear. Her hand clutched at her swollen throat. Four hells, it was no surprise that celvusa tooth had done worse damage than Ovir’s grip.
No answers. She’d learned nothing in this gods-damned desert, and her one chance at an answer had escaped. She glanced to her left wrist, muscles tense from holding a dagger that had once been a tendril of darkness. A dull, gray bruise had formed under the skin, another visible around her elbow where she was confident a tooth had pierced.
Shade bruises? That’s how the celvusa had dug through her memories. Apparently those childhood stories had some truth.
I had it. I had its power in my hands, I had the chance for answers, and I lost it.
She heard the surprised gasps. Ignored them as she filtered through her mind again. The celvusa knew what she was, but that second word meant nothing to her. It didn’t exist in the shadow language.
Daughter ofwhat?
Elias snapped his fingers and pulled her attention back. He’d stepped closer, eyes wary as he signed and spoke. “I need to know it’s you. What’s your name? Where are you?”
Brela took a pained breath.Brela. The Crystal Desert, staying in the Glass Wilds. It’s okay, I’m me.
Would the world always look this out of focus after experiencing the clarity of the celvusa’s senses? Though perhaps she should be thankful that she couldn’t smell anything. She’d bathed in vaarasuxa guts before, and knew Atuphe and Dulphi hadn’t exactly smelled pleasant when they arrived.
She ran a hand through her hair and studied the blurred faces of worry just behind Elias. The cluster of living sand was Oni, the pretty one was Farrah, and Serill was barely more than a blur, standing farther back than anyone else.
Her eyes landed on the fire wielder who was holding her torn and bloodied shirt, and that bond Oni had mentioned before tugged in her chest, stronger than the pain of shade bruises. Concern and fear lined his features, but also relief. For her.
Cason’s eyes glimmered in the starlight as he held her stare. “Are you okay?”
Unfair. It was so unfair for him to be so gorgeous… and so clear when everyone else still looked fuzzy. Brela huffed a breath as she let herself flop on the sand. She signed and stuck her tongue at him.
Elias and Farrah snorted.
“What?” Cason asked, those beautiful blue eyes crinkling in confusion.
Still grinning, Farrah translated. “She signed ‘what’s the point of having a dragon around if you can’t mask my scent from territorial bastards.’”
35
The Silent Treatment
Morning came a lot sooner than he wanted.
Barely functional after sleeping only a few hours, Cason watched as Brela sat on top of her horse with a smile, signing to Lesnibhol while Farrah translated for her. The gray bruise on her throat had darkened, but besides the occasional wince, the only inconvenience the shade bruises seemed to give her was the inability to speak.
And that scar between her neck and shoulder. A celvusa.
