Page 99 of Kingdoms of Night

She removed the bag’s contents. Naatos had certainly been thorough. His medical supplies would be practically nonexistent since shifters like him healed on their own and usually boosted their strength with food. And what few medicines he might have brought were likely antidotes for specific poisons that she would not be using. But he did get cold. So—yes! Two light but warm brown blankets were at the very bottom, along with some clothes and a couple folded towels.

Not the most comfortable, but better than nothing.

He flopped back, muttering incoherently, and his eyes rolled upward. She tossed one blanket over him, careful of those claws. As she did, she hummed a song. It wasn’t any one particular song. Just snatches of several she knew. Whatever came to her. Whatever felt right.

Choking, he sat up. “Idalno!”

She jumped back. “What are you doing up? Get back down. You need to rest.”

“No. I’m—” He swayed, scrunching his eyelids shut. “There’s something out there. Something bad. Can’t—can’t keep quiet. And it’s coming.”

She crouched in front of him. “What’s coming? I can’t move you right now. I don’t know where I’d move you—”

“No. Not asking you to move me.” He gripped her wrists, and she watched the tips of his claws warily. “You go. Go find somewhere safe.”

“And leave you here?” She carefully worked her hand free and scowled. “Never. You may be a blood beetle, but you’re not all bad. And I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy out here dazed into oblivion on tea and wyrm venom.”

“Please,” he moaned, his voice a husky rasp. “Can’t protect—”

“That’s not up to you right now, is it?” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. “You want to protect me? Great. Get better. Now keep taking deep breaths. Hey...your fingertips are turning blue. And so are your lips.”

“C-cold.”

That was a bad sign, and those wet clothes probably weren’t helping. “Hey, you need to confirm something for me, all right? Are you Awdawm or Vawtrian or Bealorn?”

She placed her hand on the top of his abdomen and pressed gently. No sign of any of the Vawtrian organs. She slid her hands over his sides. Only twelve ribs. Two lungs it seemed like. No oldrin knot. “I think you’re an Awdawm. A human.”

“What are you doing to me?” he murmured. “And what are those… Awd…Awda…”

“They’re types of races, you know, like human and such?”

His gaze searched her direction, a flicker of recognition? “Human, yes—are you human?”

He stared into space, his eyes half lidded. “I was,” he rasped. “I was bitten by a werewolf last year, and then… I wasn’t.”

“Right. I can see you look like a human. But you shift into a wolf, and you talk with wolves. Those are all very different. I want to make sure I give you the right proportions. How much do you weigh?”

He cocked one eyebrow and shook his head blearily. “More than you.”

“Not helpful. How many pounds?”

“What’s a pound?” He laughed under his breath half-heartedly. “More than you… less than a cow.”

Well, all right then. “Fine, you big lung cricket. But don’t come crying to me if you die from this. I’ll do the best I can. So lay down. It isn’t the first time I’ve had to estimate.” Awdawm humans were the most delicate to treat out of what he could possibly be. If he needed something stronger, she’d make something stronger and pray they had enough time. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had to estimate before.

He slapped a hand to his chest. “Idalno, I make you this vow… I promise I won’t come crying to you. If I die.”

“I’ll hold your ghost to that.” She pushed him back and pulled the blanket up around his chin.

“So you want to hold my ghost…” He waggled an eyebrow sheepishly.

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Just rest.”

“Idalno,” he whispered, waving an arm for her to come closer. “Hey… hey. My stomach hurts.” She shook her head. This ridiculous man. If he hadn’t saved her life, she would’ve smacked some sense into him. Puck certainly hadn’t lied about the tea being both a hallucinogen and an aphrodisiac. Combined with the wyrm venom and the bad interaction, Feron had to be going through a singular, very strange, experience.

“Idalno,” he whispered again, moaning. “I’m cold…”

“Yes, I’m going to get the fire going.” Then she had to figure out what plants she needed to counter this.

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