“Admit you’re impressed, Raska,” Evander said. “I evaded you for five years. You’re not used to that.”
Raska reached her sharp beak toward him. His ribs ached like they were peeling open. His head felt like it had been split in two by an ax. The dusk closed over him. But before Raska touched him, a blinding light blossomed in the air, just over his head. It grew from a spark to a sunburst, and out of the light flew a bird. It was a little larger than a dove, its feathers as white as snow.
Raska let out a terrified croak and jumped away, falling into the table and then scraping frantically around on the floor before she dove for the open window. Her body stuck, and her talons left long gashes in the planks. Finally, she broke out and disappeared.
The little bird landed on Evander’s chest and studied him with blue, human-like eyes. Then it touched its small forehead against his.
The blood dripping from Evander’s nose, mouth, and ears dried, and concurrently, the bird’s white feathers darkened, like it was soaking up spilled wine. The stain started at the tips of its wings, then spread to its shoulders, down its breast, until it was drenched in red. As its color changed, the bird withered, its neck bending, its body shrinking. Sickly scabs grew on its beak. By the time its feathers were saturated, it looked half-starved, half-dead. Flapping its wings, a few mite-eaten feathers wafting to the floor, the bird mounted into the air and flew out of the open window.
Evander drifted into a heavy, painless sleep.
For the first time in five years, Evander awoke without pain.
This was concerning.
His stomach twisted. There was only one explanation for a miracle of this caliber—Valenna had done something desperate.
The room was silent, except for the rain ticking against the window. The lantern had gone out.
“Val?” he called into the darkness. No reply.
Bewildered and disoriented, Evander lay still.
“Val?”
The door burst open and Samara stumbled into the room, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
“I found some!” she shouted. “My father still had a tin hidden in the storeroom!”
The light from the corridor fell upon Evander lying on the bed, his face crusted with dried blood, and the pillow soaked red.
“Stars above!” Samara exclaimed.
Evander sat up, and she shrieked, stumbling into the wall.
“I thought you were dead!” she cried.
“No,” he croaked. “Not yet.”
“Don’t get up! You look terrible!”
“I’m better now,” he said, testing his legs before he stood. They held, and he got up and crossed the room to where his jacket lay draped over a chair. “I need to find Valenna.”
“She took my dragon and went west, but …”
“WEST?” he exclaimed. “Into Sennalaith?”
Samara nodded.
Wavering between anger and terror, Evander strode toward the door, but before he reached it, a concussion shook the floor.
“What was that?” Samara asked.
“Oh, Val,” Evander whispered, looking at the ceiling. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Screams echoed from the village below.
“What’s happening?” Samara cried.
