I roll my eyes, hovering my hands over his face.
“I always forget how different your healing magic is,” he mumbles. “Your shadowlight feels weird. I don’t like it.”
“Then don’t ask me to heal you,” I snap.
I finish quickly, then wave him off without looking. “You may leave.”
“Thank you. Love you,” he calls over his shoulder.
Silence washes over us after the door shuts behind him. I glance at Koen. He’s still studying me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“Don’t get the wrong idea. I just like to keep track of dangerous things,” he replies.
“Careful. Worrying about a threat makes you more vulnerable to it.”
His eyes lock onto mine. “I’m not scared.”
“You should be.” My voice is quieter than I mean for it to be.
We stare for a long moment, neither willing to look away first—that is, until my shadows begin to stir again and I force my eyes away.
“I can’t heal everything. You’ll have to tell me what hurts most. I’ll also fix…” I wave in front of his face, grimacing. “…your face.”
“Oh, please, little shadow. With the way I’ve caught you looking at me, I think you might actually like my face…maybe even more bruised.”
I scoff. “Cocky again, tavern boy.”
He smirks. I narrow my eyes and begin healing him, starting with his face, then the worstinjuries as he points them out. Sweat beads on my forehead, spots gathering in my vision. I stop when I know I can’t push further.
“There. The rest will have to heal naturally,” I say, looking away, trying not to let him see how close I am to passing out.
“Thank you,” he says, and I am momentarily taken aback by the softness in his tone.
I stand, swaying.
He frowns. “Are you okay?"
“I’m fine. You may go. Bright and early trainingtomorrow. Don’t be late,” I say, turning toward my bedchamber. I sway again, quickly placing a hand on the wall for support.
He approaches hesitantly. “Do you…Doyou need help getting to bed?” He rubs the back of his neck like he’s uncomfortable.
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, forcing myself forward.
He hesitates again, then nods, quietly retreating.
Once I hear the door close, I exhale a sigh of relief and stumble the rest of the way to my bed. Sleep quickly claims me, merciful and deep.
Chapter 11
?---- Serenya ? ----?
“Are you even trying?” I ask Koen, twisting my wrist to disarm him. He barely manages to hold on.
“I was under the impression this was training,” he shoots back. “Not a public execution.”
“Poor impression, then.”
