To make whole begins with the self.
I turned to Kiyan and placed my palms gently on his stomach. He shuddered, and a wave of relief washed over me—he wasn’t dead yet.
Just as I did with my normal magic, I used it as an extension of me. It was a new sense—but instead of touch, or smell, I now knewrestoration, the act of making whole again, of healing.
That feeling flowed from me, pushing against the poison inside Kiyan, and instead of finding something that was lost, I was isolating what wasn’t meant to be there.
The injury, the poison, bruises, cuts, harm, I could feel it receding with a cool wash of power.
This is what my mother had left me—this was her legacy.
It was something more than jewelry and something less than her being here with me. And the magic inside me reveled at such a new feeling, at such a strange and unique power.
As quickly as I had absorbed it, it left again, pouring out of me and into Kiyan, leaving my senses and entering his to restore his health.
The green spidery veins were gone, and curls of poison poured out of his side like spilled wine, the scorpion carved into his flesh receding. The wound wove together, and I brushed over it, marveling at his skin becoming unbroken once more.
I did it.
I’d healed him.
I pressed my hand flat to the unmarred skin, stroking my thumb along his chest in wonder. After a moment I noticed his stomach muscles had tensed.
My eyes flew to his, which were now open.
“You’re awake,” I said, a little stunned. I removed my hand from his torso immediately, feeling my face go hot. Why was I stroking his stomach for so long?
“I am.” He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes were bleary, and he blinked a few times as if to focus on me. “What did you do?”
“I... discovered I may have some ability to heal with my magic after all.” I didn’t want to talk to him about the bangles, not when I was planning to leave with the crown very soon. My eyes flitted to my dusty traveling skirt, which was draped over a chair in the corner of my tent.
He frowned as if he didn’t exactly believe me. He was so close I could make out the threads of brighter brown in his dark eyes, like the threads of my magic had made their way there as well.
“You know, every time I see you, you seem to be shirtless.”
He barked out a laugh, his eyes clearing slightly, though his face was still flushed. “I am around you, it seems.” Then he looked up, his face turning serious. “Why did you help me?”
“Because you didn’t deserve to die. Not from him.”
His mouth thinned. “Perhaps I did. You don’t know the extent of what I’ve done. How many I’ve killed. Many would say this is retribution.”
“I don’t believe in revenge,” I said simply. “I believe in redemption and actions. I believe in trying to work with what you’ve got and failing anyway. But I think you’re doing more than killing for the Court of Salt.”
I think you’re plotting against them.
I didn’t say it out loud, but it sat in the back of my mind, a nagging thought that wouldn’t release me.
He was part of the royal family, though Reza didn’t know that. And he saved that rebel from being cursed just hours ago.
“Just like you’re doing more than researching?” he said quickly, his dark eyes assessing me. “Doing more than finding a lost crown you don’t intend to use?”
“Yes,” I breathed the word. “Just like that.”
We danced around each other, never once saying the words that were alive in the air. Never once admitting that whatever was happening between us was much more potent than we’d ever expected.
He was a hairbreadth away from me, his dark eyes darker, the sharp points of his ears visible from underneath his silvery hair, which fell around his face like a curtain of moonlight.
I blinked up at him, my face hot and a sensation rising in my chest, very similar to when I’d crossed the River—a mixture between elation and fear.
