Page 88 of The Last Dragon
“You gave me quite a scare,” she says.
I raise my eyebrow in question.
“There was a moment,” she starts, hesitation in her voice. “Zel, you didn’tbreathe.”
Those words cut like a knife. I don’t remember anything after administering the serum. And every time I try, my head begins to hurt.
“I tried to wake you, but—” she stops, squeezing my arm. A jolt of warmth surges in my chest. I never thought she’d be this worried about me. Or anyone. I didn’t think anyone would care so much that their composure would falter.
“I’m fine,” I say, reaching for her hand to prove it.
She meets my eyes, worry still there. “Are you?”
No. I know I’m not fine. I know what this means for me. I know that my time here is running short. But I can’t let her know that. As a Hunter, I’m responsible for my Tracker, making sure that they can be focused at all times. As a friend, this distraction for her is even more deadly. She probably already knows.No. Don’t show that. Don’t confirm her fears.
“Yes,” I lie through my teeth. Is it fear that I feel? Fear of what? Or is it something else? Disappointment?Longing? “I’m fine.”
She’s silent—her hand still wrapped around mine, her eyes scanning my body, assessing the wounds. Then her gaze traces all the way up to my chin, then my lips, and lingers there for a moment. I furrow my brow, my chest starting to ache as if I’m about to be sick. I press my lips hard, as if I’m trying to hide them.
“You’re bleeding,” she says, pointing at her own lips, and my gaze follows the motion.
“Oh—” I blurt, reaching up to wipe the blood off with my wrist, the subtle taste of iron making its way to my mouth.
“Are you okay?” I ask, searching her face. She gives me a quick nod.
“Good.” I say. “I’m glad you’re safe. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.” Those words leave me quicker than I can catch them. But they’re true. She’s my Tracker. I’m responsible for her.
She smiles, cheeks reddening. “I don’t even know how I survived,” she murmurs. She takes a deep breath, her eyes straying to Alex. “He helped me,” she says. “He helped you.”
I press my lips together. “Must’ve been a painful decision for him to make.”
A chuckle escapes her, a live one. A real one. “You would think.” She looks down at her legs, shaking like she has to move, before looking up at me again. She sighs and grabs the paper with my condition scribbled all over. She glances at it before looking at my arms, ribs, and eyes.
“You need your bandages changed,” she whispers. “They’re a day late.”
“Sayna will take care of that.”
“Sayna and Sam are swamped.” She puts down the paper. “And without Hayden, it’s harder.”
She stands, walks to the nearest cabinet, and grabs a roll of fresh bandages.
“Wait, hold up,” I say, lifting myself up straight. “Are you allowed to do that?”
When she turns to me, a smile is already on her face. “One of the Divisions I got recommended” —she starts unraveling the bandages— “was Medic.”
I’m surprised, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve known that all along. Her mother was the town’s medic and botanist, using her herbs and plants to cure small cuts or illnesses. Nida was always by Sage’s side.
“Sayna allowed me to help for a while when soldiers started to pour in. She needed all the help she could get.”
She removes my bandages, her touch careful. The linen peels away, tugging at dried blood and stiff skin. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, refusing to flinch. The cool air stings. I glance down—bruises bloom across my ribs like ink spilled inwater. She doesn’t look away. Her fingers move with practiced calm. I wonder how many times she had to do this in Pirlem.
For a moment, her eyes stay fixed on my chest, where veins swirl around my heart. They’re darker now. She dips a clean cloth into a bowl of herb-steeped water, wrings it dry, and presses it to my side. The sting is sharp, but I welcome it. Pain means I’m still here. Still breathing.
There’s a gentle tap on the window, then a soft screech. Sarga.
“She watches you,” Nida says, glancing toward the window. “Like she’s guarding something precious.”
“She saved my life.” I sigh, watching her flap her wings, puff her feathers, and continue to knock on the glass. “I don’t know how, but I think Kayus taught her to recognize my—” A lump in my throat prevents me from saying anything more, and the sting from the linen makes me drop the thought. I wince.
