My vision swam, and I looked away. “There’s Aether on the arrow,” I said, ignoring the twinge of pain, which I knew was nothing compared to his.
Nik swore. “Hold on, man.” The sounds were nearly as bad as the sight, and I had to concentrate very hard on the bark of the nearest tree. “Might as well tell me his name, since your master just tried to kill you to keep you from talking.”
“You…not me.”
“No need to kill a soldier, and you took the arrow either way. You want revenge? Tell me his name.”
He said something I didn’t understand.
“His name,” Nick said again, this time more forcefully.
“He…mask.”
He said the word on an exhale of breath, and I knew from the sound that it was his last.
By the time I looked back, his eyes had gone cloudy.
“Death is such a fucking waste,” Nik muttered. He climbed to his feet, his lip curled with disgust as he cast his gaze across the trees. Then he walked a few feet away and put his hands on his hips.
“You absolute fucking coward!” he shouted to whoever might hear him. “If you want a fight, come on! Right here, right fucking now.”
Nik stared into the woods like he could draw the practitioner forward solely by the strength of his will. His power and confidence were visceral, his frustration obvious. He was a soldier, a man who brought death. But he also understood the futility of fighting.
Despite his dominance, there was no answer, not even therustling of leaves left over from winter. No satisfaction for his fury or outlet for his guilt.
He walked back, resheathed his sword, and pushed his hair behind his ears. There was something in that simple motion that made me want to step forward and comfort him. Tell him I understood his anger; being powerless was a bond servant’s specialty. But I didn’t dare. It wasn’t my place, and he wasn’t my friend.
Nik knelt beside the assassin. He looked the man over for a moment. “I need to pull out the arrow.”
I grabbed the nearest tree when the world began to spin.
There was a pause. “It’s the blood?”
I nodded. “I can look at death, maybe because I see what comes after. But blood…” Even saying the word made my skin clammy. “Blood is harder.”
“I wasn’t sure anything scared you,” he said. “Good to know you’re human like the rest of us. You have good eyes, so keep watch while I do this.”
I nodded and stared into the woods, like the answers we wanted might appear in a banner unfurled from a massive oak. “What’s your weakness?”
“I’m told I’m not serious enough and don’t respect authority. My left sword arm is weaker than my right.” He paused. “And I don’t eat green food.”
“Green food?”
“Green food is for horses, not humans. All right,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
When I turned back, the arrow was in his hand, and he’d pulled the man’s scarf over the wound to shield me from it. A thoughtful thing to do. Then again, he was paying me to be here; I wasn’t much good to him if I was unconscious.
“Is the arrow Vhranian?” I asked.
He looked at me, brows lifted.
“I recognized the windblade. Wren admires them.”
“They’re good blades. The sword is Vhranian,” he confirmed, “but the arrow isn’t. It’s good quality, but the fletchings aren’t quite right.”
Those were the feathers at the end. “So someone wanted it to look Vhranian.”
He nodded.
