Page 56

He grunted in acknowledgment, which I took for approval.

He stripped himself to the waist. With a trip of my heart, I wondered if he would be staying the night in the tent with me. Glancing around the space, I verified no other bedding awaited him.

“It’s unbelievable, really,” I added, seeking words to fill the crackling air between us. “But the salve seems to be working.”

“Not so unbelievable,” he replied tersely, not looking at me.

“What do you mean?”

“A blood witch knows a thing or two about the healing arts.”

“A blood witch?” I stared intently at his back. “You mean... that woman? Thora? She’s a witch?” A bona fide witch or just someone unfairly suspect because of her red hair?

He sent me a wry look over his shoulder. “More than likely.”

I shook my head. “No one has seen a blood witch in years. Decades. Not since—”

“Since they took to living in isolation? Those who weren’t hunted and put to fire at least.” He gestured around us. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Miles from the closest village. And way too close to the much-avoided skog for my liking. A perfect location for someone wishing to live undetected.”

I fell silent, my mouth closing with a snap, thinking about that, thinking about witches running for their lives to the far corners of the realm when men started hunting them after the Threshing, eager to collect the bounties offered for them. Yes. What Fell said made sense. She could be a blood witch, one of a dying breed, living in seclusion rather than be tossed onto the pyre.

One of my earliest memories was looking out from the palace and seeing bonfires dotting the hills in the distance, a burning row of five pyres outside the City. I’d asked Nurse what they were. Heranswer had been immediate and without inflection, her eyes gleaming with savage delight.That is peace coming to the land at last.

And I had believed her. Only later had I learned that her version of peace meant death for others.

Unlike dragons, witches were harder to identify. They looked human, after all. I wondered how many put to death had not even been witches. Mistakes happened. Paranoia was a real thing. The lord chamberlain was proof of that. If he’d had his way, I would have been kindling for the pyres because of my red hair and my keen ability to heal... and there was always the mystery of my parentage. He insisted that was a mark against me.

Thora’s whispered words echoed in my mind.He will not tolerate the likes of you.

What had she meant? Had she recognized something in me? The same thing that existed within her?

A chill chased down my spine like a rush of icy fingertips.

I had an unwelcome flash of memory then. The taste of blood in my mouth. Copper coins rolling along my tongue and teeth. My conviction that blood was about to be spilled. Perhaps it was a reasonable hunch, though, given the dangerous circumstances of coming face-to-face with brigands. I inhaled a shuddery breath and shook my head. I would know something like that about myself. Wouldn’t I? It was not possible. Magic did not course through me.

“In any case,” he continued. “I’m glad the salve is working. We need to press on in the morning.”

“I’ll be ready.”

I gazed at the great expanse of his back, at all that sprawling inked flesh. My fingers tingled, recalling the texture of his skin. Smooth and firm and warm. The X buzzed in the center of my palm, vibrating with energy and heat. The light from the nearby lamp painted his body in dancing red and orange, breathing life into his tattoos, twisting the strange symbols that I could now detect formed the shape of a screaming dragon.

He turned to look at me, asking almost grudgingly, clearly resenting that he should care about my welfare, “Are you cold?”

I realized I was clutching a fur up to my chin. “No. I am fine.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I fidgeted, reading his distaste for me in that cool gaze.

What did he read in mine?

The silence stretched between us. We were alone. This was no chamber full of prying eyes and ears. There was no contingent of warriors flanking us. The evening pulsed around us like a beating heart, and we existed alone inside our impromptu shelter for the night, a sanctuary from the rough country surrounding us.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured, in a way that made me think he was truly mystified and open to suggestions.

I moistened my lips. “I know I’m not what you wanted.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

That did not even sting. Not after our ignominious beginning. It was the truth. I knew it and so did he.