Page 57 of The Crown of Moonlight
“Back with me?”Chyr asks.Not waiting for me to answer, he presses a flask to my lips and tips a dribble of water on my tongue.“Slowly now.That’s good.How do you feel?”
“Possibly better than the Ravenhounds.Possibly not.”
His lips twitch at the corners.“The Ravenhounds you drowned in the bog?I doubt they feel much of anything now.”
“Lucky Ravenhounds.”I move, and every muscle in my body groans in protest.
The weakness is more than physical.I’m shivering and scraped empty inside.I try to pull magic from the earth, but nothing happens.
Chyr tightens his arms around me as though he feels my panic, and the Veilstones on his hands hum against my skin.I curl into the warmth of them, into his warmth.He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear.
“I take it you’ve never depleted your magic before?”he asks.
“I’ve barely known I had any to deplete,” I say, and that doesn’t lessen the wave of panic that hits me at the thought of losing it.“My magic has been getting stronger since I’ve been around you.Around the Veilstones.Does that mean it will come back, or is it gone for good?”
Chyr shifts his arm around my shoulders to help me sit up.“It should come back.The process is slow at first—your body needs a certain amount of magic to attract more to you.”
“Then why didn’t I feel this bad right away?”I ask.
“You used it all so fast that your body didn’t have time to understand it was gone.Then the lack of it hit all at once.”
He straightens his long legs on either side of my hips and pulls me back against his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me.I grit my teeth to stop them chattering while Chyr rubs my arms and wraps every bit of himself against me.
The warmth of his magic seeps inside me.It’s more than the Veilstones, which are a steady flow when Chyr’s hands touch me.This is different—a bright gold warmth that’s Chyr himself.I press close against his chest, letting the sensation steady my breath.
Then I realise what he’s doing, and I peel myself away.
“Stop.You don’t have magic to spare.”I set my palm on his wrist, and his pulse is pounding.
He gathers me closer.“I’m stronger since the last time you healed me.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”I shake my head, which is a mistake because it makes me dizzy and threatens to turn my stomach inside out.“Anyway, we can’t stay here.There will be nowhere for us to shelter on the stretch leading to the Pass.We need to make it to the other side by daybreak or we risk not making Muilean on time—and there’s too much chance of being spotted.”
“You’re right.With that many Ravenhounds hunting, there are definitely Greys nearby, and possibly the Butcher himself, based on what the Camhrain sentries told us.”Chyr releases a sigh.“Wait here, then.Don’t even think of moving.I need to try to get rid of the bodies.”
He strides back to the horses and returns with the rest of the spare plaids, which he wraps around me with a single-minded attention that makes me breathless.I watch him, taking in the way he looks up at each step to search my expression, to check on me.
When he’s done, he stares down for a moment as though he’s going to say something.His jaw clenches, and he turns on his heel, then strides to the nearest of the dead Ravenhounds.He picks up the body and throws it into the bog before moving on to the next.
Mud gurgles.Dark water closes, but the Ravenhounds sink too slowly.I try not to think of those glowing red eyes and teeth that drip with blood and fire, of how I felt when they were attacking Chyr.
I’m a little stronger by the time he returns.Warmer, at least.I climb to my feet and roll the extra plaids back into wet bundles.Chyr takes them from me and packs them away again, then ties the dead rabbit to Eira’s saddle.He lifts me as if I weigh nothing at all and sets me on Bramble before swinging himself up behind me.
The irony isn’t lost on me.The position is the same as how we’ve ridden these past days, but Chyr takes the reins, and the sensation of riding with him is entirely different when I’m not in control.It makes me even more aware of his body pressed against mine and how weak I feel.He settles my head against his chest and curls an arm around my waist, his hand splayed.His warmth seeps through my clothes, and the Veilstones are a soothing hum.
That shouldn’t feel safer, but it does.
We cross the stream and scramble up the bank on the other side, then climb between rocky outcrops towards the gap that lies between the mountains.I’ve stopped shaking, and that hollow feeling inside me is ebbing away.Still, when we reach the top, Chyr lifts me from the saddle and sets my feet on the ground beside him.
“Now,” he says, “if you’re feeling a little better, we should set some boundaries.You have taken care of me because I was injured, and healing is your strength.You are guiding us because you know the territory—”
“And I can read a map.”
“And you know the people and the allegiances, which is more than I could glean from a map.But since I’m no longer dying—”
“That remains to be seen.”
His jaw works in annoyance.“I’m not dyingtoday, so kindly leave the killing to me.That is literally my job, Flora, and I’m good at it.It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you did, but in the future, please trust me to ask for your help if I need it.”
