Page 277 of Blade of the Nightking

Frowning, I pressed harder, attempting to physically drive the magic into his body. Rìan convulsed. A thick blue vein throbbed at his temple, every muscle in his body straining to keep the scream trapped behind his lips.

I pulled my hands away and folded them neatly in my lap, studying them with distant curiosity. They were red, as though I'd dipped them in paint, warm with his blood.

Perhaps I could send my magic into his mind. He could siphon from me, the way he had in Pelaga, replenish his own power, and heal himself. Closing my eyes, I reached for that endless dark expanse within him and willed my magic toward it.

It refused to go.

“This is troublesome.”

"Your voice..." His lips barely moved. "It's different... like this."

He lifted an unsteady hand and brushed his thumb across my cheekbone. A tiny spark flared somewhere deep inside me. The Eidra pounced on it instantly, like a cat on a mouse, devouring it before it had the chance to grow. When he drew his hand away, the pad of his thumb was streaked crimson.

"You killed all of them."

I shrugged. "The one that mattered got away."

A ghost of a smile tugged weakly at his mouth. "It was... impressive. Beautiful, even."

Again a small ember flared beneath my ribs. Again the Eidra descended upon it, smothering it before it could become anything more.

"There must be something that counteracts the iron."

He swallowed with visible effort. His lips were dry, split from thirst.

"A lodestone."

"A what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Where can I get one?"

"The Barrows," he whispered. His eyelids fluttered.

I slapped his cheek. He groaned, his eyes cracking open again. "What are the Barrows?"

"It doesn't matter." His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth with every word. "We'll never... get there in time."

"Rìan." I said sharply. "Stay awake."

His head lolled to one side.

I rose to my feet. "You need water."

A faint sound escaped his throat—too weak to be words—and then there was only silence.

The marshes lay only a few paces away, just beyond the palm where we'd kissed. I paused, my feet rooting to the sand as my gaze caught on the tree.

The way he'd pressed me against the trunk. The taste of his mouth…

Something stirred deep in my belly. I didn't realize my hand had drifted upward until my fingertips brushed my lips.

I blinked hard and tore my gaze away, forcing my attention back to the mucky, reed-choked water ahead. Crouching at the edge, I was met by the stale, rotten smell of the marsh.

I had nothing to carry the water with. Without hesitation, I pulled my shirt over my head and plunged it beneath the surface. Mud billowed around my hands as the fabric soaked through. I would wring the water into his mouth, like he’d done for me on the salt flats.

I glanced back over my shoulder.