Page 92 of Amidst the Insidious Courts
“You cannot just heal a feral shifter. Get back inside before you get hurt.”
“I—”
But whatever I might’ve said to change his mind evaporates as a huge sand-coloured ball of fur and teeth careens around the corner and charges us.
“Move!” Drystan roars.
I’m frozen, and I stay that way—caught between disbelief that this is Jaro and the heart-pounding terror that is a predator bearing down upon me—until a white blur slams into Jaro from the side, tackling him away.
They roll, crashing into a thick wooden stall door, which gives way with a smash, followed by more snarling that rings in my ears. It’s only when a hunk of flesh and white fur sails past me and splats against the floor that I realise someone has to stop this. By then, it’s too late. Drystan has a hand on my arm and is doing his best to drag me away.
“Let me go.” My own vehemence surprises both of us enough that I manage to twist myself free. “Wraith, come.”
It takes a second, but the barghest does as I ask, scrambling away from the panting, heaving wolf and back to me with a notable limp.
“Nicnevin,” Drystan growls.
“Let me.” I whisper. “He can’t hurt me.”
“He’s nothimself.”
As if to prove Drystan’s point, the sandy wolf begins pacing against the wall, staring at the three of us.
“Jaro,” I whisper. “Shift back.”
“He won’t until his wolf lets him.” Drystan sounds like he’s trying not to lose his patience with a child. “And his wolf won’t do that because it thinks its mate is dead. Shifters don’t come back from this, Rhoswyn. They stay shifted and feral until someone puts them down.”
“I’m not dead,” I promise Jaro’s wolf, holding both hands out like he’ll read the truth of my words in my non-confrontational posture.
The wolf looks at me through golden irises ringed in white, his hackles raised, and his ears drawn back. He’s not seeing me. If I had to guess, he’s still trapped in the nightmares Aiyana forced those children to show him. The Jaro I know is buried deep beneath a whole load of primal instinct.
“Hey.” I gentle my voice, crouching to make myself less of a threat—though it seems unnecessary given the sheer size difference between me and his wolf. “Smell me. You know I’m real. I’m here. You’re safe.” A tear prickles at the corner of my eye.
Nothing changes. The wolf isn’t even blinking as it tracks my slow advance. His ears flatten.
Does he even know I’m real?
“Back up slowly,” Drystan orders quietly. “Madoc will contain him. We can search for a cure after the war is over.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe we’ll find one.
“Please, Jaro,” I whisper. “Shift back.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know what I was doing. I’d also be lying if I said I felt guilty.
But it works.
My mates may be able to shrug off the effects of my charm if they’re prepared, but an animal has no such defence. I’m too exhausted and scared to reach for Danu again, but I still put every ounce of my magic into my voice, willing it to work.
Bones crack and limbs extend. A second later, Jaro is crouched on the floor, naked, bloodied, and shivering.
Chestnut eyes meet mine, flashing gold once before his body jerks and convulses.
“Out of the way.” Kitarni rushes past me as she rummages in her bag.
Her fingers trace Jaro’s pulse, her legs cushioning his head as his body trembles and shakes. She withdraws a small phial from her bag and tips the contents between his lips before forcing his jaw closed and pinching his nose to make him swallow it. A tense second passes as we all wait to see if her potion has done anything, then another. Jaro goes limp.
“He’s out,” she confirms, slouching. “It should give his healing time to fix whatever just happened and let his body recover. He won’t dream.”
Because dreams are what got him into this mess in the first place.
