Page 97 of Blood of the Stars

“Healing falls on the constructive somatic spoke. You’ll continue to develop that skill, but strengthening it will also open up the possibility for you to mirror that skill. It’s how Sylmar’s able to do minimal healing even though he’s a destructive somatic. And I can injure—not like Sylmar can, but enough for it to be an advantage in a fight. Kendalyhn can sift through the lies of someone’s past, understand the drive behind their actions, but she can also see a bit of the truth. It’s like the Wheel’s way of finding balance as your abilities grow.”

Aeliana squirmed. “I don’t want to learn to injure other people.”

Lukai leaned to the side, bringing his face into her line of vision. “That’s fine. For now, we’re focusing on healing without blood magic. If we start with Cyrus, we’ll know you’re not using blood magic. Then we can work our way up.”

She nodded, hating that he was right. If she was ever going to be of any use to this group, she had to get past this. Cyrus held out his finger, and Aeliana placed a shaking hand over his palm. She closed her eyes.

“Start by enhancing your senses,” Lukai whispered, his breath hitting her ear in a distracting way as he leaned forward to watch. “Feel where his blood pulses, where the smallest parts of his body work. Do you sense the brokenness?”

She reached, pushing the slightest bit of energy from her blood through Cyrus’ hand, its power tracing through to his finger, where there was a dissonance.

“Yes,” she whispered. Without further instruction, she sensed the need to make it right, to adjust the wrongness. It was different from the time they’d tested her, when the need had been more of a feeling. Now it was like the need was a guide. She pushed her energy through his hand more, urging the broken parts to mend, the misaligned areas to weave together.

Cyrus inhaled sharply, and Aeliana opened her eyes.

The drop of blood remained, but Cyrus wiped it away, revealing the tiniest of scars, like a newly healed wound.

“Perfect.” Lukai grinned, running his finger over Cyrus’ to remove the scar. “At this rate, we can practice a dozen more times before Kendalyhn’s done burning the meat.”

CHAPTER 40

A moan woke Gaeren from a deep sleep, confusion making him slow to realize the sound came from his own throat. Cool hands touched his brow and cheeks, then water dribbled over his mouth. He let his lips fall open, eagerly sucking down water dripping from a cloth.

“Take it easy.” Orra’s voice brought clarity with it, and the memory of the sprites flowed through his mind. “There’s plenty more to be had, but it won’t do you any good to bring it back up.”

“Riveran?” Gaeren croaked the word out, cracking his lids open. Sunlight blinded him, forcing his eyes closed once more.

“He’s fine. Off looking for food and firewood before the Sun’s sleep.”

Gaeren tried to process the last thing he remembered. He shifted, pain shooting through his chest. The claws of the sprite, the deluge of water, then nothing. He was dry, and it was daylight, so he must have slept half the day away.

“Your fever was high all day,” Orra said. “I’m glad to see it’s broken.”

Gaeren’s eyes flew open. He fought the Sun’s glare to focus on Orra’s furrowed brow. “All day?” He adjusted, moving to sit up despite Orra’s protests. The world spun slightly, but he suspected the pain in his chest prevented him from passing out. Deep breaths brought his vision right again. “We lost a day of travel?”

“The sprite’s poison spread through your body. We had no choice.” Orra’s lips lifted in that maternal smile, but it held a hint of curiosity. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The sprites are…complex creatures. I wish I’d spent more time studying them.”

She sat back on her heels, bringing the rest of their camp into focus. A fire had burned down to near coals, but their bedrolls remained out, their supplies still unpacked. Had they completely lost track of Daisy due to his sickness?

“It would take a dozen lifetimes to parse out the sprites,” Riveran said from behind Gaeren.

“Perhaps.” Orra pushed off her heels to stand, twisting the blond braid at her wrist once more.

Riveran handed her an unfamiliar bird he’d shot and a basket holding mango and avocado. “There’s not much in the way of meat to hunt in these jungles.”

Orra’s gaze softened as she scanned the trees. “Something I’ve always appreciated about the rainforest.”

Riveran nudged Gaeren’s thigh with the toe of his boot before sitting across from him. “You look better.”

Gaeren frowned, already feeling sick from his short time sitting up. Bandages covered his chest, but blood still seeped through in various spots. “How did you get me out?”

Riveran shrugged. “You’re heavier than you used to be, especially soaked in water, but I dragged you to the bank.”

So much felt left unsaid, but as Riveran and Orra exchanged a glance over the fire, Gaeren suspected that was all he would get. Had he been that close to death? He watched as Orra plucked and cleaned the bird with practiced ease. Riveran stoked the fire to life before using his knife to peel and quarter the fruit.

Something had changed between them in the sprites’ cave. Gaeren couldn’t quite go back to hating his old friend. Not like before. Enla had told him to trust Riveran, and Riveran had saved his life. But the memory of Gaeren’s hatred still plagued him. It left him staring at the other man for too long, contemplating how he could hang on to his anger, how he could reconcile the conflicting feelings.

“What?” Riveran frowned as if Gaeren’s stare caused him physical pain.

---