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Forty-Seven

Jordan

Quell’s body cooks in my hands. The longer I carry her, the warmer she becomes. Her head rests on my chest and I lengthen my stride to get down the hillside faster. She lifts her head every once in a while and takes a look around. After the first mile or so, she grows heavier in my hands, and I have to adjust my hold on her.

“I can walk, really.”

“Save whatever strength you have for sun tracking.”

“Right.” There’s no fight in her voice this time, as if she spent every ounce of it sobbing her eyes out at the ocean all night and used whatever dregs she had left trying to break my back with her fists. I’m not going to fight her anymore. The time it takes, the energy it requires—it’s draining her and wasting time.

“We need you well.”

“For the mission.”

A half-truth. I want her well. I want many things, I’m realizing. Things I shouldn’t. I give her a curt nod and she lies against me again. Her hair grazes my neck; the scent of it is a gritty mix of jasmine and sweat.

“I should have said something sooner, but I was very sad to hear about your mother.” I hold my breath, waiting for a shift in her comfort at being in my arms. But she doesn’t say anything.

“Quell?”

“I heard you.”

“We’re going to take Beaulah down.” And yet my mouth keeps moving. “You’re going to get well. Track that Sphere and she is ours.”

She nestles against me.

“Are we almost there?” She turns the chain of my Dragunheart pendant necklace. I stop, setting her lightly on her feet, and shake out my arms. Before picking her up again, I tuck my pendant inside my shirt. She eyes the spot on my chest where it just was.

“It shouldn’t be too much farther.” The hike to the bed-and-breakfast is several miles. It’s a petite two-story inn with intimate charm but grand, sweeping ocean views. I set her on her feet gently, but stay nearby.

“People might get the wrong idea,” she says, steadying herself on the steps of the inn. “The Dragunheart grabbing a room with a girl.”

“The mission is what matters. Not people’s opinions.”

She relents, allowing me to escort her up the porch and inside. We’re greeted by a concierge with a festive pair of suspenders and a radiant mask of rose petals. Once I check her in under my name, I request every cube of ice in the entire inn be sent to her room. He agrees, befuddled, before directing us there.

Quell pushes the door open and I follow her inside. The room isn’t anything like Chateau Soleil or Hartsboro, but its plush furnishings and spacious layout are much better than the campsite’s. Quell sits on the edge of the bed and the tiniest exhale escapes her lips. An entire wall is covered in windows that extend into the bathroom. Quell reclines on the bed and her eyes close.

“I’m going to draw your bath.”

As the tub fills, I unlatch the window, pushing against the bottom pane until it juts out. A breeze whips in, filling the room with salty air. The combination of an ice bath and the cool air should get her temperature down fast.

A knock at the door pulls me away. In minutes, the quickly filling bath is loaded down with buckets of ice. When I return to the bedroom, Quell is curled in a ball, fast asleep. I can feel her body heat before my hand even touches her back. She hardly moves in response.

“Up you go.” I sit her up and her lashes bat lazily.

“I don’t think I can.” She’s languid in my grip.

“You have to. The—”

“Mission. I know.” She sighs, exasperated, and pushes one shoe off. But the second one isn’t coming off easily. She holds it out to me. I pull the laces, loosening them one by one, then slide my hand inside the boot to guide her foot out of it gently. She pulls at her blouse, gesturing for my help. My throat bobs. Steeling myself, I undo the small buttons, then help her get it over her head. I avert my eyes and wrap her in a towel quickly and usher her to the bathroom. She tests the water and I wait outside the door. Another few items of clothing hit the ground before water sloshes and skin skids against porcelain. Finally, I hear another long exhale.

“How long should I stay in?”

“Until you can feel your magic strongly again.”

“But the water, what if I—”