Page 88 of Keldori By Daybreak

“I’m laughing,” I insisted.

“No, you’re slurring your words and drooling on yourself.”

“Am not!” I hurried to wipe away any drool clinging to my chin but froze when I saw the bloodied bandages wrapped around my arm. “My arm. Why—”

“Is that Wren?” Orla’s voice sounded on the other side of the closed door. “Wren, are you okay? What’s going on?”

The door shook in its frame as Orla battled with the handle, but a heavy deadbolt held it shut.

“What’s Orla doing?” I hissed.

Ciarán grimaced and shrugged. “She saw me carrying you back to the keep.”

“What did you tell her happened?”

“Don’t worry.” Ciarán murmured directly into my head, presumably so Orla wouldn’t hear him. “I didn’t tell her anything. I brought you here and locked the door. She doesn’t know the plan.”

“Wren?” Orla called again from the hall.

I pressed my hands over my eyes, searching my muddied thoughts for an excuse.

“It’s okay, Orla!” I called back. “I just hurt myself while practicing my magick.”

“Your arms were sliced open!” Orla squawked. “And you were unconscious!”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never knocked yourself out while training before?”

There was a momentary silence. And then—

“Only once, but I definitely didn’t almost cut my arms off at the same time.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “Please. Go rest. I’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

I locked eyes with Ciarán. He glowered back.

“Yeah. Promise,” I said.

Her sigh sounded through the door, and her receding footsteps told me I’d soothed her worries for now.

“You need to be nicer to Orla,” I said.

“You know we can’t trust her when it comes to her uncle.”

“That doesn’t mean ignore her as you carry my bleeding body away to lock in a room!”

“Pardon my lapse in judgement,” he seethed. “I was a bit stressed. I told you Ferrin was too strong.”

“But not strong enough. I’m not a rotsbane. You’re back in my head, and he’s not. He’ll be here soon, and we’ll kill him.” I held my bandaged arms ahead of me. “Now what happened to my arms?”

Ciarán pulled a jagged blade from within the folds of his cloak, and he tossed it my way. It clattered against the stone floor, coming to rest at my feet. Dried blood dirtied its serrated edge, and my stomach flipped as I realized it was a bone. My bone.

“That’s my bone blade,” I said. I’d made them countless times as a Nightmare, but it shouldn’t have been possible in my real body. “I made that?”

“You made several,” Ciarán growled. “The others retracted after I knocked you out. That one I had to snap off.”

He lifted an arm, and the folds of his cloak fell away to reveal bloodied bandages wrapped around his side.