I gasp, feeling Tye lick my ear.
Stars.
“If you could do us all the courtesy of keeping your breeches on for a few more minutes, I would appreciate it,” Klarissa finally snaps, her silk voice crackling through the air. Drawing a deep breath, she regains her composure and turns pointedly toward River, who waits in pious attentiveness. “I came to offer my congratulations on your quint’s successful completion of a trial, River,” Klarissa says, her voice admirably formal. “I must also mention that, had you told the council you’ve a weaver in your midst, we could have done a great deal to assist. Your secret helped no one, prince of Slait. We are on the same side—the one fighting against Mors.”
River’s face is stone, but my eyes widen and even the feel of Tye’s arms around me is not enough to halt my sharply indrawn breath.
Klarissa turns toward me, lifting a manicured brow. “The Elders Council is not a decoration, Leralynn. We work with facts, history, research, and observation at least half as well as the princess of Slait does.” Giving Autumn a small bow, Klarissa strides around the table, her delicate hand brushing across River’s broad shoulders before settling on the nape of Shade’s neck.
Shade stiffens, his eyes dull and filled with pain. His nostrils flare but he stays still beneath the female’s touch. My chest tightens. Shade has spoken to me as little as Coal has, though Shade’s distance feels different. Quiet. Fearful. Like an animal hiding a wound that it fears will mark it as prey. I little understand, little carewhyhe won’t let me near him. But there is no choice about permitting Klarissa’s touch, it seems.
A moment later, magic, shimmering like liquid silver, suddenly spreads from Klarissa’s hand to cover Shade’s neck, back, and shoulders. The male arches, tense and silent, the agony flashing through his eyes setting my soul aflame.
I jerk in Tye’s hold.
“Steady, lass,” Tye whispers in my ear. “That’s healing magic. And Klarissa’s affinity for it is the strongest known.”
Healing. I almost laugh at the absurd irony, but even that bitter humor fades as Klarissa pulls away her hand.
Shade turns toward her. I watch for the furious indignation I expect to see flashing in those golden eyes, but instead find a mix of question and plea.
My chest squeezes. So thereisa wound. A real one. One bad enough that Shade is too frightened to admit its extent. Beneath the table, I extend my leg slowly and press my calf against his.
A moment later, Shade presses back, his attention on Klarissa’s inevitable diagnosis.
She pats his trembling shoulder. “There is a great deal more damage than I can correct in the middle of a dining hall, shifter, but... I’m confident you will regain your magic. For now, transition down to your wolf. It is safer for you and will aid in the healing.”
I startle, my eyes widening. “Regainhis magic? Is it—”
The pressure of Shade’s leg on mine intensifies, leaning into me.
Klarissa clicks her tongue, meeting my gaze. “It’s gone, yes. Your friend is fortunate that Coal there pulled him back as quickly as he did, or the wards would have burned him out completely.” She shifts her attention back to her patient, her tone hardening. “There is no healing death, Shade. You are smart enough to know that. What in the name of Lunos were you thinking?”
The question hangs in the air, Shade’s eyes unwilling to meet mine.
Klarissa sighs and studies her nails, which are manicured with a pearly black paint that plays off her dress. “Unless, of course, you weren’t thinking, were letting that mating instinct wreak havoc on you instead. There are ways to ease that transition too, you know. Exercises, warded charms, herbs. If you wish for help, all you need to do is ask.” Without waiting for an answer, Klarissa walks away, leaving crackling silence in her wake.
Coal’s lips pull back into a snarl. “That vicious bi—”
“I would urge you to consider your next words carefully,” Elder Elidyr says in a too-calm voice that has Coal shutting his mouth at once. Elidyr nods and shifts his gaze until it rests on River’s. Though not as large as River, the elder has the same calm presence that I remember from the council chamber. “Klarissa is not incorrect, you know. Now that the trials have revealed Leralynn’s nature, we can help you train. Help you become the quint that the magic has chosen you to be.”
Trust the council. Even coming from Elidyr, the words sound ludicrous.
“If I discover a shred of proof that Klarissa was behind the ward’s failure,” River says, his words black ice. “I will bring down the Citadel around her ears. Please make no mistake about it, Elder.”
“How... brazen.” Elidyr’s oval face straightens as he hooks his thumbs into the belt of his riding leathers. “While you are chasing that fiction, River, you might also examine what Klarissa has been doing to protect Lunos from Mors in the past decade, while your quint was dormant. Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner and try to decide whether it’s Klarissa or Mors’s Emperor Jawrar whom you five intend to spend your destiny fighting.”
>
