Page 62

Raven

Jeddak and I stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the single bed in the sparsely furnished room at the inn.

“I assume you forgot to mention to the innkeeper there aretwoof us?” I said, not bothering to hide my frustration.

“Actually, there arethreeof us. But this was the only room they had.”

The musty smell of old quilts filled the stuffy room. Kah had already shaken the rain off his fur and made himself at home on a worn rug in front of the small stone fireplace. The bear seemed friendly enough, but there was no way I was sleeping close to him. Nor would I be sleeping in the same bed as his companion. “Um?—”

“I’m sleeping on the floor,” Jeddak said, ignoring the daggers I was silently throwing at him. He grabbed the folded blanket at the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor along with his bag of supplies and wet cloak, and knelt by the hearth to build a fire.

Thunder rattled the leaded windowpanes and the sound of heavy rain drummed on the roof. I hung up my cloak on the peg by the door and peeled off my soaked shoes and outer leather layers, spreading them out to dry.

The bed was stiff and smelled like damp straw when I sat on it. Using a cloth, I dried myself off as best I could. I removed the hairpins that were still tangled in my wet hair after my disenchanted dinner with Bloodbain and tamed my hair into a single braid. The cuts and bruises on my face and neck felt less swollen but were still a bit sore. The gash on my left arm that I’d gotten back at the tunnel was another story. I pushed back my sleeve to look at it. It was puffy and red and tender to the touch. I needed something to bandage it with.

“Do you have any bandages?” I asked.

“Here, let me see.” Jeddak sat down on the bed beside me. He gently pulled my arm toward him to study the cut.

I felt my muscles tensing. The room had warmed, but there was still a lingering chill in the air. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold draft coming from the window or the tingling apprehension I felt about being in such a tiny room with this Rathalan-turned-Kovak.

His fingers grazed across the wound.

“Ow,” I said, trying to pull back.

He held firmly to my wrist. “Just breathe,” he said, closing his eyes. “This might feel … strange.”

I opened my mouth to object when my arm started to tingle. Sparks danced underneath my skin where his hand pressed against it. The cut began to sting like the sparks were igniting my flesh. I drew in a sharp breath and struggled against his grip again, but he didn’t let go. When I was about to shout at him to stop, the sensation dissipated, embers fading to ash. A wave of warmth spread through my body, chasing away the cold that had been there a moment before.

He released my wrist, and I stared at my arm, blinking. The cut was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a faded pink scar.

“The scar will fade in a day or two,” he said casually as if this was something he did every day. Maybe he did.

My eyes met his. “How?—?”

“Healing magic. My grandmother taught me. And her mother taught her. I come from an ancient bloodline of Kovak healers.” He said this with a hint of pride in his voice. “My grandmother’s one of the great healers of our tribe. Unlike her, though, I have very rudimentary skills, only useful for minor injuries like this.”

“So, not all Kovaks can do this?” I asked, curious.

“No. We’re all born with the ability to heal quickly, but few possess the skills to transfer healing magic to another person. In fact, this rare kind of magic is mostly passed down from mother to daughter, but my grandmother must have seen a spark of it in me. She began teaching me when I was young. In secret, mostly. My father disapproved. He thought it was a waste of time. He’d prefer I spend all my time in the training ring.” He shrugged as if to emphasize his indifference, but the stoicism in his voice sounded a bit too forced.

“Well, I’m grateful you didn’t spendallyour time training,” I said softly.

Our eyes met for a moment before I quickly pulled my gaze away. Suddenly, I was feelingtoowarm sitting this close to Jeddak. As if he sensed my discomfort, he moved to sit in the chair beside the fire, stoking the flames with a poker. The sound of the rain filled the space between us.

His words replayed in my head.His grandmother’s a healer. I wondered if she’d be able to heal me. With that thought, an idea started forming about how to get my magic back. It would be dangerous, but?—

“I did,” Jeddak said, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?” I said, confused.

“Ididspend all my time training. You should know I’m better skilled at making wounds than healing them.”

His voice was flat so I couldn’t tell if this was idle talk or a subtle threat. Except, I had a feeling that if Jeddak was threatening me, he wouldn’t be subtle about it. “I can think of several Rathalans who can vouch for that,” I said, thinking of how he pummeled Meat and the guards near the tunnel.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips before disappearing. He turned his attention away from the fire and started to sift through his pack of supplies.

I glanced down at the map on my hand and then back at Jeddak. I could feel a pit forming in my stomach. Come morning, he and Kah would be on their way, and then what? There was no way for me to return to my homeland when no one had ever heard of the Zavien tribe. And this map was useless to help me find my brother if I didn’t have my magic. I might have escaped Malengard, but I’d reached another dead-end. Unless … unless Jeddak was willing to help me.Again.