“Stay there, I’ll get you some food.” Cas’s weight disappears from the bed and I silently thank him.
She feels thinner than before, and the idea of her starving makes me growl softly, only to be cut off as a new weight settles on the other side of her. The scent of ice and steel fills my nostrils, and I instantly relax.
Kier.
He doesn’t rustle the covers like he’s trying to take Cas’s place, so I assume he’s just perched on the side.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what Nilsa’s apologising for. Once again, my blindness takes away the nuance of subtle conversation and I curse Fate for the thousandth time in my head.
I want to know every thought that goes through her head. Read every emotion in her face.
Kier speaks, the words calm, quiet, and betraying nothing. “No more lies.”
“I promise.” She takes a tiny, shaking breath and starts pushing herself up, ignoring my mumble of protest. “I’m fine, Nos. Really. Being stuck in bed is going to drive me mad.”
“You are not fine,” I growl. “There’s nothing fine about the amount of blood that was on you when you came aboard.”
“I’m mostly healed.”
“You were tortured, stubborn witch.” Cas’s return accompanies the rich smell of stew. “Your toenails still aren’t fully regenerated, and your hand and back are a mess. So stay exactly where you are before you make your wounds worse.”
Her grumbles are drowned out by the sound of cutlery clinking.
“Open wide.”
“You’re not feeding me.”
“You want to try and grab the spoon when your hand looks like it’s been stuck in lava? Face it, Princess, you need help. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.”
There’s a tense silence, a silent battle of wills, before the spoon clinks against the bowl once more.
“I hate this,” she mutters.
“All the more reason for you to recover and cook something else,” he insists.
“Can’t you just transform it?” I ask.
There’s a moment where she goes quiet. “No. It’s almost dawn and my power was wiped out. I—”
She cuts off, and I frown. “Are you okay?”
“It feels like my connection to the Goddess is…sore.” She seems confused by the idea.
“What does that mean?” I’ve never heard of something like that before.
There’s a heavy, pregnant pause before she replies, “I don’t know.”
“What did you do?” Cas asks. “I’ve never seen a witch channel their Goddess to destroy something like you did. The Claw was annihilated.”
“I used Glenna’s Athame…”
I frown. “I’m no expert, but I’ve been reading up on Lunars since you came aboard.” Once again, I feel a surge of gratitude for the mage-tech device Val made for me. Without the escape listening to books gave me, I’d have given up on life long ago. “Athames are advanced magic, right?”
“They’re incredibly good at focusing magic, and that makes them dangerous,” she acknowledges. “Most witches won’t touch one until they’re at least a century old, and even then, they have a coven helping them. Many witches never have one. It’s just too much hassle for something they don’t need. Those that do, have them made and attuned directly to their magic.”
“You used Glenna’s and you’re not even half the right age,” Cas grumbles.
