He attempted to look over his own shoulder, to no avail. “What?” Reaching his hand behind his back, he tugged a bandage away and felt along his skin. His eyes widened. “What did your mother put on me?”
I removed the other bandages, revealing his fully healed back.
What in the world?
I tried to stay calm. This couldn’t just be my mother’s medicine. Come to think of it, his wounds from the vuk had healed quickly, too. I’d been proud of my work … but what if it hadn’t been me?
Who was he?
I stood abruptly. “You self-heal, don’t you?”
Rykr yanked his shirt back over his head. “No. That’s not even possible, is it?”
“Clearly it is.” It had to be a rare ability. But Rykr must have known about it before this, mustn’t he?
“You sure it’s not another one of your ‘gifts’ from this oath?” He combed his fingers through his dark hair, where the short strands had matted while asleep.
“If I had self-healing, I’d be showing off by now. But you’ve clearly got something special. So, tell me, how long have you known?”
Rykr sat straight, pulling his shirt down with deliberate calm. “Hate to break it to you, solwyn, but you and your mother are the ones with spellcraft. Ask me how I managed to capture a Viori outpost alone and that I might have an answer for.”
Solwyn. I refused to react to his sarcastic taunt by calling me a term of endearment aimed to belittle me. “Self-healing doesn’t have to do with spellcraft. It’s inherent to the fabric of a person’s essence—like this.” A quick flick of my fingers and frost spread over the chair beside the stove. A faint chill prickled the air around us as a fine sheen of ice crackled over the wood, sparkling in the morning light.
Rykr jerked his chin, a wary look crossing his handsome face. “Ice powers?”
I’d always thought of my gift as more nuisance than strength, but the wary way Rykr watched the ice made me feel … powerful. Just for a moment. Then the self-consciousness returned, creeping in like cold seeping through my boots.
“Remind me to never make you angry in bed.”
Tarseholster.
Before I could call him the vulgar word, he quirked a brow. “Are ice powers common around these parts of the forest?”
“Most Unbound have some natural gift like this. Mine is mostly useless—how often do you need ice in the middle of the forest?” I stood, my mouth dry. As I continued to stare down at him, a knot formed in my gut. “But you’re right. You wouldn’t have self-healing as a natural gift. You’re Bloodbound.”
He spread his hands out, a smirk crossing his lips that read told you.
Barely minutes after waking and we were already on the wrong foot. “Get ready. It’s market day and we can get breakfast there. I’ll explain on the way.”
Rykr scowled and put his boots on. “Unless you mean put my own irons on, I’m ready.”
Despite his moodiness, my lips twitched.
He was probably as tired as I was of squabbling. I readied his irons as he used the chamber pot in the corner, doing my best to ignore the forced familiarity of our situation. When he’d finished, he approached. “Where should I empty that?”
“There’s a privy with a pit my family uses outside. I’ll show you.”
“What happens if I don’t wear the irons?” he asked after I’d replaced them. He shuffled beside me as we left the tent.
“Seth might transfer you to the dungeon, which is the only permanent structure around here. Impossible to escape.”
Rykr’s gaze swept over the distant tents. “Why not build houses instead of living in tents?”
“We used to move every year, but as our waldren grew older, we stayed longer in one place. Now it’s been several years. He died, but in theory, we try to be prepared to pack and leave the territory at a moment’s notice.”
“But why?” Rykr almost tripped, then glowered. He was tall and clearly unaccustomed to shortening his stride like this.
“For protection. The elders believed it was safer so Liriens never knew exactly where we were. We also have to negotiate with some forest creatures to allow us to stay sometimes, too. In those cases, we pay for the use of the territory and it’s a short-term agreement.”
