Carefully, so very carefully, I melt the ice spear. The water spills from his body, drawn away from muscle and tissue, leaving behind a gaping hole the size of my palm. I guide the water away from his body, sinking it into the dirt. My hands glow weakly as I press them to his chest, stitching flesh and sealing vessels with trembling precision.
The exit wound is the worst. I work it closed, layer by layer.
When I can no longer see the ground through his chest, I loose half a breath. But there’s no time for relief. I set to workon carefully mending the internal damage. Thank the Tides, the spear missed his heart.
Blood vessels knitted back together, nerve endings regrown, tissue repaired.
But then—
My light sputters.
Flickers.
Dies.
No. No, no, no, no.
I summon it again, but my power doesn’t answer. I’ve burned through my reserves—fighting, freezing, healing.
And we have no food.
Nothing left to replenish me.
Tears slide down my cheeks. I press my hands to his chest again, willing the glow to return, willing something—Tides, Skies, Flames—anythingto answer.
Please. Please. Not like this.
Zev’s lashes flutter weakly. He’s pale. He’s so fucking pale.
His eyes crack open, barely a sliver, twin streams of red trickling from his nostrils. He stares at the half-healed hole in his chest, blinking slowly, like even that small act requires an enormous amount of precious energy.
“My reserves are empty,” I whisper. “Stay here. Don’t die. I’ll—I’ll find food—”
I start to rise, but his hand catches mine. It’s barely a touch. Slow. Shaky. Reaching into his cloak, he presses something small into my palm.
An apple.
The same apple I’d given him to eat hours ago, bruised yet untouched.
I choke on a sob as I take it from him.
I press my forehead to his, tears dripping onto his ashen cheeks.
With a shaky breath, I bite into the apple.
Tides, let it be enough.
Chapter Eighty-One
It’sbeenfivedayssince the attack.
Five days since I killed my father.
Five days since I wielded blood.
The Volcans and the rebels from the other camps arrived the morning after, though we had regained control by then. Still, the extra hands were immediately put to use, helping clear rubble and dig out survivors.
And help bury the dead.
