Before I could reassure him, a spear whizzed through the air, hurtling straight toward me.
The shriek died in my throat as Griff wrapped himself around me. The spear shattered into a million pieces against his back, bouncing harmlessly off of him.
“I guess that shield does extend to others,” I said shakily.
“It extends to you.” He turned back to the fray. “Stay alive.”
He dove back in before I could say “You too,” though the words came out as a whisper anyway.
This part of the clearing was relatively protected—probably why he’d stashed me here. But I was not about to stay out of the fight while my people were being attacked. With Anamlae urging meon, I surged back into the chaos, parrying blows with one hand and blasting fire with another.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Griff thundered as he appeared at my side.
“Figuring it out as I go.” I sent a fireball into a hufen’s stomach and he convulsed in flames. “Seems to be working. Now hush. You’re distracting me.”
“You’redistractingme,” he fired back, slashing at a hufen behind me.
I lost count of how many infected I cut down—stabbing and decapitating where I could, blasting fire where I couldn’t. Driving them ever away from the village, from the defenseless people they were attempting to infect.
And then they were gone. Somehow, we’d driven them back.
The villagers started rejoicing, but I didn’t join in, my gaze desperately sweeping for the one person I cared about right now. I found him, taking a rare moment of rest leaning against a tree. Someone tried to talk to me, but I only had eyes for him. And while I watched, he slowly slid down a couple inches before catching himself. His shirt was wet, a stain slowly spreading across his left shoulder. That wasn’t just wetness—that was blood.
“Griff!” I screamed, scrambling over the uneven earth to where he was breathing heavily. “Did they touch you? Where are you wounded?” I worked frantically at getting his shirt off.
“They didn’t touch me. And it’s nothing.” He tried to catch my hands, to stop me from stripping him.
“If it’s nothing, why is there so much blood soaking your shirt?” It was more than just the front of his shirt. The back was wet and crusty all the way down his shoulder blade.
“It’s not all mine.” Even wounded, he was still trying to calm me. “I’ll be fine. My body channel will heal me quickly.”
“Let me see.” I breathed deeply, willing my pulse to slow as I eased his shirt off. If he described the wide gash spreading across the front of his shoulder almost reaching his neck and curving around tohis back as “nothing,” I never wanted to see something he considered serious.
I had been working with Andrei ever since my attempt to save that young soldier for precisely moments like this.
“I can help.” My hands were gentle as I leaned him back against a tree. “Trust me.”
“I always trust you, Princess.” There was no guile or teasing in his voice, just honest truth.
I drew up my body channel, thinking of a warm, deep-red light. Gently easing that power into his wound, I placed my hands on his bare skin and concentrated harder than I had all evening, coaxing muscles and sinew to knit back together. I faltered when his own body channel rose up to assist mine, distracting me, then modified my technique to direct both streams of healing energy to the injury. I coaxed it and shifted it, starting with the section near his neck where it was the deepest, and then sending the magic out in both directions to heal his front and his back. I lost myself in his body, keeping the power focused on him until all hint of copper disappeared. Until all I could sense was warm, pink, healing tissue. My awareness coursed over him, checking everywhere for anything else that may be injured but I found nothing.
Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled myself back. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me with something akin to shock. And something deeper. Maybe pride?
“You’re miraculous,” he whispered.
“Does it feel better?”
He rotated his shoulder experimentally. “Fully healed.”
With both eyes and hands, I examined his now-unmarked skin, marveling at the strength in that muscle. My fingertips drifted over it in what could only be called a caress, trailing down his arm until it reached his hand. He caught my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. His mouth was soft, his breath wafting over my skin.
And then the chieftain called his name.
With obvious reluctance, he hoisted himself to his feet, then reached down to help me up. Our hands stayed joined for longer than necessary as we stared at one another, before he walked over to where the chieftain stood next to the main campfire. There was no stiffness in his walk, no hint that he had been wounded. I drifted after him, weaving a ward over the entire area. At least we’d have some warning and hopefully some protection if the hufen came back.
“As much as I hate it, we’re spending the night here,” he said. When I looked at him in surprise—I had thought he’d use the attack as an excuse to whisk me back to safety—he grimaced. “I’m drained.” The admission came out soft, ashamed, but I knew what he was trying to say. He needed time, to get his power back to the levels needed to teleport. I wasn’t the only one who had been using my powers to help clean up the destruction. And then adding in the fight, teleporting and saving me, his wound—he needed to replenish his powers.
“I understand,” I said quickly. I knew better than to volunteer to try to teleport us back instead. My powers were also drained after healing him and warding the entire village.
