She lifted her hands and peered at them in the dim light from the banked fire. They looked exactly the same. Why didn’t she have claws? Was this because she couldn’t shift? She sighed. Did she even want claws?
Her beast rolled its eyes.Of course we have claws.
Izzy held her hands up higher as proof, but her beast just rumbled tiredly.Have you even tried?
She sat up, letting the blanket pool around her waist, and peered at her hands. “How does it work?”
I’m here. They’ll come if you call them. Concentrate on Luka.
It wasn’t hard. His scent was all around her. She could still feel the ache in her muscles from holding onto him as he flew, and the heat in her belly from finally tasting him, touching him, holding him deep inside her body as he lost himself with her. She’d always known he was her mate. Even when she’d thought they would never be together. Even now, when he’d rejected the very idea.
She gasped as ten lethal claws slid out from her fingertips.
She stumbled out of the bed and over to the fire to hold them closer to the light. They were elegantly curved and sharp as razors, gleaming onyx with a hint of sapphire. She turned them to catch the light, admiring them, and whispered, “It doesn’t make sense. Luka’s claws were a shock to him. Theyhurthim.”
Luka and his beast are battling each other. Clearly his beast is delighted with our mating. The drake chose claws; Luka didn’t. Her beast yawned.We don’t have that problem.
Thank the Mother. She’d lost Luka forever this time, but at least she’d never be truly alone. Izzy slowly withdrew her claws, then shuffled back to the bed and fell asleep with tears on her cheeks and the scent of Luka all around her.
She woke up to an empty room. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still stung. She washed her face and made the bed. Her eyes were puffy, and her head throbbed. Somehow she was even more tired now than before she slept.
She wanted to see Luka, even if it was just to say goodbye, but he was gone. And she couldn’t change the wind by wishing. She’d lived through this grief before. She could do it again. The best she could do was focus on her patients, on the people who needed her, on her responsibilities and commitments. She had atask to finish, and the earlier she got to the clinic, the more she could search before anyone else arrived.
She pulled on her breeches, borrowed one of Luka’s undershirts and a pair of clean socks, and shoved her feet into her boots. She didn’t bother to wait for food before throwing her satchel over her shoulder and heading out. She closed and locked Luka’s door behind her, then shoved the key through the gap between the bottom of the door and the stone tiles. She wasn’t going back.
The castle clinic was peaceful when she got there. The first rays of sunshine spread through the windows, creating a glow around the lush green plants, while the scent of thyme, lemon, and vinegar surface cleaner hung gently in the air. It was so familiar, so built into her, that she almost expected her father to emerge from one of the wards, eyes bright, face breaking into the wide smile he always gave her.
For a moment, her heart felt like it was cracking in two. Papa and Rayan were long gone. Luka was lost to her too. This clinic was no longer a place of safety and comfort. It was Melo’s now… and someone here was murdering people.
She swallowed her grief and focused on that thought as she dropped her satchel on an empty desk and went to work. The quicker she found something, the sooner this would all be over.
She searched through drawers and behind desks. She went through the emergency room and sneaked into the storeroom using the key she found in a jar in Melo’s desk drawer. Everything was exactly as it should be—and far too orderly to hide anything. Finally, she went through each of the books in the library, quickly flipping pages and ignoring the snippets of case history and meticulously labeled sketches that would usually grab her attention. Today, not even the scent of the old books and the softly embossed texture of the linen paper could sootheher. She shook out book after book, placing them in piles on the nearest desk. But she still found nothing.
There isn’t anything here.
She hummed her agreement. Whoever killed Narya was too clever to leave something out in the open.
A door clicked open, and she raised her head to see Nolan stretching his neck as he made his way down the corridor from the healers’ room. The break room was cramped, and the beds were narrow and hard. She was glad she didn’t sleep there anymore. “Night duty?” she asked.
Nolan nodded, peering at the books and rolls of parchment scattered around her. “Doing some research?”
She hummed noncommittally. “Just looking. I’ve missed these books.”
Push him a little,her beast whispered.Perhaps we can put some pressure on the murderer. Help them to make a mistake.
Izzy looked up at Nolan. “And… I hoped maybe I’d find something of Rayan’s.”
He blinked, looking more awake. “Rayan? Do you think he left something?”
Izzy put the book she was holding onto the pile in front of her, watching him carefully. “I’ve been thinking about the way Narya died. It was such a tiny wound, almost impossible to find.” She shrugged. “It feels so similar. I started to wonder if there’s a connection.”
“What’s connected?” Sarwin asked from the front entrance. Melo stood right behind him, a disapproving look on her face as she took in the clutter.
“My brother and Narya’s deaths,” Izzy answered, searching their faces for any kind of surprise… or guilt.
“I can’t see how,” Sarwin replied. Was that a little too quick? A little too defensive?
A flurry of scales settled at Izzy’s wrists as she answered. “They were both well liked, neither had enemies, neither had any defensive wounds. Rayan’s body was in the water too long to see a small puncture, but maybe if we’d found him sooner, we’d have seen one.”
