Page 75 of Blood Fist

Derry’s scent intensified. It made his head throb. Ridan sighed, flopping back into his chair.

“Can you help him?”

Halm looked surprised, her eyes widening behind dark lashes. “No. My knowledge of Thralls is limited, but everything I’ve read says its is permanent. If there were any way, it would likely have to be the one whocreated him. Only they would know the magic to undo it.”

Corric whined, pushing away from Jonen to slide into the pit, grabbing his brother. His omega had taken over, softly snuffling against burnt hair until it smudged across his cheeks. He reeked of distress and the alphas in the room had to keep themselves from reacting. Hell, even Ridan wanted to comfort his packmate.

As he held his brother, the thin shirt he was wearing shifted and exposed his prominent collar bone. Schok was skinny. Too skinny. His master obviously didn’t care. It made Ridan nauseous. He was already half dead. And if his mind was gone…would keeping him alive be a kindness?

He could kill him. Swiftly, painlessly. It wouldn’t make the clans happy, but their justice would be served in the gentlest way Ridan could. Snapping his neck would be instant. No pain.

Suddenly, something flew from Schok’s shirt. It zoomed through the air, moving too fast to be seen. Jonen was covering Corric in an instant. The hiss of steel on leather filled the tent as the rest of them tried to figure out just what was attacking them.

In the low light of the tent, he could see it was small and definitely not on fire. Sword tip trained on the thing; he followed it as it fluttered around the corners of the tent. It would strike the leather with a littleplapand then zoom off to another corner, only to do it again. Like it was trying to find a way out.

Brune sheathed his hammer, stepping close to the thing. He approached it like a wild animal, crouched with his hands lifted. The thing zipped left and right, swinging around Brune’s hair before he leapt, catching it with cupped hands.

“Is it a bird?” Derry asked.

Brune came closer to the light, lifting his cupped hands. “No, it’s a…feather.”

Parting his hands, Ridan peered into the crack to see a dark feather. The size of his hand it was vibrating under Brune’s thumb, straining to escape.

“There’s a secret pocket,” Jonen called out, looking inside Schok’s jacket. “He must have had it hidden in there.”

They stared down at Brune’s hands.

“Why the fuck was he carrying asentientfeather?!”

Everyone looked at Halm. She shrugged. “It might have been spelled by his master. A way to keep track of his thrall or a guide to bring his thrall back to him.”

The feather squirmed, its bristled ends brushing against Brune’s calloused palms. “So, this…feather, might lead us to whoever did that to Schok?”

Another shrug. Ridan’s headache throbbed.

Sheathing his sword, he took a moment to think. Halm might know a little too much about magic to be comfortable, but that was a poor reason for banishment. And if she was as learned as Derry claimed, she could be an asset to Iylah. And Schok, for whatever it was worth.

Plus, taking her in would piss Thewn off.

“All right,” he turned back to the group, crossing his arms and trying not to let his exhaustion show. “Corric, take your brother back to the Stone Blade. He’ll be somewhat safer there, but keep him unconscious. Ask Iylah for something. Make something up. The fewer people that know about his existence, the better.”

To Halm, “You, do whatever you can to help him. Provided you’re not a useless knothead, you’ll be welcomed into the Stone Blade.”

Halm looked grateful, her lips wobbling in a small smile. She bared her neck and knuckled her chest.

“Jonen, you keep these idiots from getting killed. Do what you must, and yes Corric, that means a blade in your brother’s neck if he acts up. I won’t lose another life to him, regardless of culpability.”

Sniffling, Corric just nodded. Jonen looked troubled. “What about you?”

“I’m going to—I can’t believe I’m saying this—to follow the fucking feather. I’ll either bring this magic user back to fix Schok, or skin him alive. I’ll decide when I get there.”

“You can’t go alone!”

“He isn’t,” Brune said, stepping up beside Ridan, still holding the ridiculous feather. “I go where he goes.”

“There, see, got my faithful lap dog coming,” he groused, trying not to look too deeply into this situation. “Tell the clans I’m going on some kind of pilgrimage. An omega thing. Whatever to keep their noses out of it.”

Corric was looking at him with something likegratitude,and it made Ridan itch. This whole thing was out of his wheelhouse, and honestly, he wouldn’t even consider it if it wasn’t for the connection to Kaledonea. Both of Krait’s sons somehow ending up in his clan? That was too much for even Ridan to ignore.