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“I didn’t . . .” I paused in frustration and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I told you, I had a feeling and found you crying like a baby over a nightmare.”
He scoffed, but seemed to be more distressed by my words than soothed. “When you say a feeling, describe it to me.”
“Why should I?”
Kage let out a sigh. “Because my nightmares can be dangerous, and I want to know why I saw you in my head.”
There was something dark and heavy in his gaze, like a weight I was seeing for the first time lived on his shoulders.
“Dangerous? Don’t tell me you’re one of those sleep-walking killers.”
“Frightened, Wildling?” His words were soft, low, and clearly regretted the moment they escaped. Kage let his arm drape over his brow and seemed content to ignore I was laid out next to him. “We believe them to be part of the curse of this land. When they come, they’re quite . . . intense.”
That was one word for it. How was it possible for a dream to be dangerous, and why did it quicken my pulse in a damn near panic?
“Do you remember the dream?”
“I never can when I wake.”
“You were arguing with someone. I don’t know if it was a man or woman.”
“I know.” Kage rolled his face toward me. “This is the first time I can recall it. Another curious thing. You remember what you saw then?”
“Yes. What is a heartpebble?”
“Heartstone.” For a long pause, he seemed to forget I was there. “It is the resting place for a piece of a soul of the dead. Was that all you saw?”
I nodded.
Kage let out a hiss of frustration. “The discussion made little sense. Still, I think my nightmares have been trying to tell me something. Until now, however, I could not recall them. It’s rather irksome to wake with knowledge of it and still not understand.”
There was no true reason to care for anything about this man. He threatened and manipulated. He cared nothing about me, only what my potential bloodline could do for him and his brother and a couple of skull crowns.
Yet there was a new weight on my chest I could not explain.
Nor could I deduce why I was not leaving. The ache had subsided when Kage woke, but I remained in his disheveled bed that smelled too much like the woodsy scent of his skin.
I could not explain his dream, I could not truly help him, but I did not wish to leave him yet. I blinked to the ceiling, studying the thick rafters overhead. Before I could stop them, words slipped out. “Why is your face not the same as it was in the star tent?”
Kage turned to the rafters much like me. “I am a bone Soturi.”
“And I recall very little—practically nothing—about mages, so that tells me nothing.”
He shook his head, likely irritated by my lack of knowledge. “Soturi mages are made for battle. Their mastered talents always become more gruesome, more deadly.”
“So, say someone from the healer clan also had a talent with bone, it wouldn’t be as brutal as yours since you’re a battle mage?”
His eyes flashed. “You’re learning.”
I hated that I preened a bit under his weak praise. “It sort of reminds me of specialties in the workforce back in the mortal realms. Mortal healers are called physicians, but there are many specialties amongst them.”
“I suppose it must be slightly similar.” Kage shrugged as though mortal lifestyles were an annoyance. “Mage talents vary. I’ve a close friend who is what we call a hexia and brilliant withofskyspells—hallucinations. Another who can bond with creatures. You’ll see his hawk about.”
“I’ve seen it,” I muttered, recalling the leering bird from the trees before I was ambushed.
“There are ignis mages, fire workers. Ventian, they are masters of storms. Other talents revered in the Soturi clan are animai, they are mind manipulators. Then there is metallurgy, bone, and blood.”
“Okay, and what do Soturi do with those last talents?” Unable to stop—curiosity was too potent—I rolled onto my shoulder and tucked my hands under my cheek, wholly fascinated.
