Page 37

The defenders turned around, and their steps moved across the kitchen and then down the stairs. The front door opened, and when it closed, Dawson released her and pulled her alongside him.

“The council is covering it up?” Mira asked, out of breath.

“Not now.” His grip on her was firm as he pulled her down the stairs and into the hall. He let her go only to open the small window. “Ladies first.”

She climbed through and landed in a small alley behind the house. Dawson had more trouble fitting through the tight space, but once he was out, he pulled her close and coin traveled them away.

With a snap, they reappeared in a healing room.

“Take off your jacket.” His command was strict. When she didn’t instantly comply, instead taking in her surroundings, he sighed with frustration. “I need to look at your shoulder.”

“It’s an endare cut. I can heal it myself. I’m literally an expert in it.”

“Fine,” he hissed between his teeth. “Then do that before you fucking bleed to death in my house.”

“We’re at your estate?”

“Yes, healing quadrant.”

“You have a healing quadrant?”

“Would you like a tour of the whole estate while you slowly bleed out?” His anger was sharp.

Actually, she would. The room’s shelves were stacked with ingredients, potions, and a large collection of healing books—the last thing she expected a Wielder to have.

“Winters!” His voice shot at her.

“I’ll do it.” She shrugged off her jacket and cursed under her breath. Moving her shoulder wasn’t a great plan. The pain spiked up her neck and down her arm. When the fabric of her jacket pooled at her feet, the sleeve of her white blouse became visible. It was soaked in blood.

Dawson looked paler, if that was even possible.

“Could you turn around?” she asked.

Without a word, he did. She unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. Like an electric shockwave, pain zapped through her body. She whimpered, and Dawson’s fist clenched in response.

In the mirror, she looked at the cut. Spheres, no wonder it was this painful. Tendons had been cut. She could see straight to the bone. The Dark Magic in endare cuts continued to burn hotter, and cut deeper, after the initial injury. Without a healing spell, the wound would never close or stop bleeding.

Blood ran down her arm to her scar, covering the old wound in fresh crimson. A sharp pain shot through her, burning even hotter than the endare cut on her shoulder.

She twisted her body, trying to get to her shoulder, but the pain from the Dark Magic kept pulsing through her in waves.

“This is ridiculous,” Dawson said, and turned around.

“No!” she yelped in protest.

His eyes were downcast as he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She used it as a blanket to cover herself. Despite the coolness of Dark Magic, his jacket was still warm from his body.

“Sit,” he commanded, pointing at the examination table behind her, and this time she obeyed. He took a glass container from a shelf and sat down in front of her. “It’s going to sting.”

“I know.”

With a cotton ball drenched in alcohol, he cleaned the wound methodically. Her skin burned. She winced.

His eyes went to hers. “Sorry,” he said softly.

“It’s fine.”

He worked silently and with determination. Even still covered in the coldness of Dark Magic, he was surprisingly gentle. Although Mira didn’t make a sound, he seemed to know exactly when she was in pain and stopped or slowed down. He was much gentler with her than she had ever been with herself.