Page 12
Story: The King's Man 1
“Then she won’t panic for long.”
“What about me?” I rub my temple. “Should I be panicking?”
Calix glances back at me. “Would you? So I might see what that looks like?”
I grin, then immediately wince.
“Your meridians are still intact,” Calix murmurs. “Heal yourself.”
I hardly need telling. I form a spell and steer it into my head. Relief floods in fast. I spring from the makeshift bed—Calix must have built it—and drop beside him at the fire.
Before he can put down his jar of liquor, I swipe it, lift it to my nose, and take a long, exaggerated sniff.
“I’ve never tried alcohol before,” I say, mischief warming me faster than the flames.
Calix reaches out to take it, but I twist away and chug down a good gulp. “Quite sweet.”
He yanks it back. “You’ll knock yourself out again.”
“You’re not secretly thrilled? You won’t have to deal with me for the rest of the night.”
I laugh and keep talking, warmth and adrenaline making my tongue loose. I edge closer to him as the air turns colder. When I finally bump against his side, I hear it.
A hiss of breath.
Pain floods the air around us.
I whip around and stare at his lap. “You’re hurt. Let me—”
He bats my hands away and shifts just out of reach.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters. “Just a few rocks. I’m fine.”
“This again? You won’t let me heal you because I’m par-linea? That’s ridiculous.” I roll up my sleeves. “If I’d known you were suffering, I would’ve healed you first—”
I summon a spell.
My hair flies up from the blowback. I blink, stunned, as fizzled magic crackles from my fingers. I try again. Just a fizz.
I freeze, horror blooming. “I... I can’t.” I look at him, alarmed. “It must be the liquor!”
Calix stares at me, andlaughs. Really laughs. He reaches out and flattens my hair with his palm.
I go utterly still at the touch.
Our eyes lock.
Calix’s hand drops. I whip my head back to the fire. Such pretty dancing flames. Very interesting.
“So,” I say, throat tight, “have you practiced archery for a long time?”
“Since I could lift a bow.”
“Even though you can use magic?”
“Sometimes magic isn’t an option. We need other ways to survive. To fight.”
I glance at my hands. “Even to heal?” I frown.
“What about me?” I rub my temple. “Should I be panicking?”
Calix glances back at me. “Would you? So I might see what that looks like?”
I grin, then immediately wince.
“Your meridians are still intact,” Calix murmurs. “Heal yourself.”
I hardly need telling. I form a spell and steer it into my head. Relief floods in fast. I spring from the makeshift bed—Calix must have built it—and drop beside him at the fire.
Before he can put down his jar of liquor, I swipe it, lift it to my nose, and take a long, exaggerated sniff.
“I’ve never tried alcohol before,” I say, mischief warming me faster than the flames.
Calix reaches out to take it, but I twist away and chug down a good gulp. “Quite sweet.”
He yanks it back. “You’ll knock yourself out again.”
“You’re not secretly thrilled? You won’t have to deal with me for the rest of the night.”
I laugh and keep talking, warmth and adrenaline making my tongue loose. I edge closer to him as the air turns colder. When I finally bump against his side, I hear it.
A hiss of breath.
Pain floods the air around us.
I whip around and stare at his lap. “You’re hurt. Let me—”
He bats my hands away and shifts just out of reach.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters. “Just a few rocks. I’m fine.”
“This again? You won’t let me heal you because I’m par-linea? That’s ridiculous.” I roll up my sleeves. “If I’d known you were suffering, I would’ve healed you first—”
I summon a spell.
My hair flies up from the blowback. I blink, stunned, as fizzled magic crackles from my fingers. I try again. Just a fizz.
I freeze, horror blooming. “I... I can’t.” I look at him, alarmed. “It must be the liquor!”
Calix stares at me, andlaughs. Really laughs. He reaches out and flattens my hair with his palm.
I go utterly still at the touch.
Our eyes lock.
Calix’s hand drops. I whip my head back to the fire. Such pretty dancing flames. Very interesting.
“So,” I say, throat tight, “have you practiced archery for a long time?”
“Since I could lift a bow.”
“Even though you can use magic?”
“Sometimes magic isn’t an option. We need other ways to survive. To fight.”
I glance at my hands. “Even to heal?” I frown.
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