I hesitated, and his eyebrow lifted. I snatched it from him rather than listen to whatever he was about to say. I laid the blade in the fire alongside mine.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured as he moved away.
When I saw my blade start smoking, I quickly opened my pack and pulled out the single leather glove I had. I’d stolen it from a blacksmith two winters ago, and it had come in handy more times than I wanted it to.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled the glove on, then grasped the handle of my dagger. His dagger might have been finer, but I knew how to use mine.
I walked back to the wagon and saw the soldier had passed out.
“A mercy, I suppose,” I said to no one. “Baxley?” He was there almost instantly. “Hold his legs. He’s going to feel this.” I looked at his friend, who looked horrified at what I was about to do, but he knew this was how we would save him. “Pin him down. Do not let him jerk, or I’ll probably kill him.”
“You might kill him anyway,” he blurted, and I choked back a bubble of hysteria.
I took a deep breath. “Whatever god you pray to, ask for their help.”
I don’t know if anyone responded. I was so focused on what I was about to do. With a clenched jaw, I stuck the burning metal of my dagger straight across his wound.
His scream tore through the clearing, his body convulsed, and I pressed down harder, fighting back nausea as the smell of burning flesh assaulted my nostrils.
Moving quickly, I turned the blade, ignoring the sizzle as the other side pressed against him.
I tossed my dagger aside and pulled off my glove. “Take this,” I said to whoever was behind me. “Bring me the other dagger from the fire.”
I peered at the scorched skin. With careful fingers, I pulled slightly, checking to see where the blood still flowed.
“Here.”
I nodded. “Drop it on the wagon, gently! Give me the glove.” I hurriedly put the glove on, grabbed Nicco’s dagger, and did the same again. I moved along the wound until the lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. I took the bottle of warm liquid from Baxley and took a large gulp of lukewarm water.
Once I was sure I’d done all I could, I moved back. “I need cloth for bandages. Let’s wrap it and hope it doesn’t fester.”
I jumped off the wagon. After cleaning both daggers in the snow, I shoved them back into the fire.
I looked up and met Captain Marson’s gaze. “Who’s next?”
By the time I’d assessed the other three, only one of them needed my dagger, and I felt drained.
I hadn’t lied. I was no healer, and my methods of fixing injuries would probably get me locked up in any other part of the continent, but I was in Crystallese. Our land wasn’t full of Verei Kahn. There were few magic users here, and the ones who came here stuck to our capital city.
A long way south of here.
I was careful to make sure there was enough distance between the Institutions of Magic and me as there could be.
I sat down but didn’t close my eyes. There was no time to rest. No time to wait to become something’s dinner. Even if it was only the hunger of the cold you fed.
And I had the strong feeling that we weren’t the only ones taking a moment to rest before the next stage of whatever was coming our way.
“You did well.”
I looked up at Larana as she crouched beside me. Strands of her braid were loose around her face, softening her appearance. Yet her eyes remained hard. Nothing about this woman was gentle.
“Thanks.”
“Thought you were going to pass out,” she told me conversationally.
“So did I.”
She grinned, and I smiled back. “A pack of snow wolves is moving from the south. You were right. They want dinner.”
