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“Let’s ask the expert.” Verve waved Alem forward, and he hurried up, dropping his pack beside Ellory. After some brief introductions and a few hushed questions, he removed Ellory’s hematite pendant, cut away the leg of her ruined trousers, and placed his hand over the ugly wound.
“We found you just in time,” Alem said after a few moments. “I can heal you, but it will go quicker if I disinfect the wound first. This may sting a bit.” He withdrew one of the poultices he and Verve had made and pressed it to the wound. Ellory winced, but held still.
At last, Alem lifted the poultice and placed his palms against her skin. “This next bit shouldn’t hurt,” he said to the shiftling. “But it might feel odd. Please hold still.”
Ellory nodded. Alem concentrated, his healing magic soaking the air all around like the scent of earth just after a summer rain. Within Verve’s spirit, Space-Between-Stars’s focus sharpened, diamond-hard, as if the Fae wanted to absorb the mere presence of magic. Verve had never wanted anything in her life as much as Space-Between-Stars wanted Alem’s power, and she realized at once why the meridians didn’t allow mages into their ranks. Such a longing would be a distraction — at the very least.
Verve couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe; she could only stand in awe as the angry, crimson flesh started to heal over. The skin knitted itself together until only a pink scar remained.
The entire time, Ellory’s gaze was riveted on her healing wound, until she tore her eyes away to look at Verve in wonder. “A dendric mage,” she whispered. “I’d heard rumors, but I never believed… I thought the others were full of shit.”
“Aye,” Verve said in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure those rumors never become anything else. Do you understand?”
“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” Ellory snapped, but she lowered her gaze. “Aye. Sorry. Yes, I’ll not breathe a word about your mate.”
“He’s not my…” Verve flushed again, and harder still when she caught Alem grinning to himself. “Don’t you start,” she said to him.
He sat back and winked at her. “Too late.” He wiped his hands off on a cloth he’d brought and said to Ellory, “All done. You ought to rest for a few days, just to let the final bit of healing take place, but you’ll be right as a rooster after that.”
Ellory twisted to better see the former wound, and her eyes widened. “Ea’s tits… You really did it. Thank you.”
Gratitude clung to her words like spun sugar. But confusion also lingered there, as if Ellory was uncertain how to act in this situation.
Alem gave a half-bow from his still seated position. “You’re welcome. Don’t tell your friends.”
Verve tried and failed to hide her snort of amusement, then Alem winked at her again and her stupid heart wanted nothing more than to knock him down and kiss him silly. The feeling got stronger the longer she looked at him, so she glanced back at the shiftling. “I don’t sense your enemies nearby any longer. Do you have somewhere to go?”
Ellory’s face clouded and she glanced toward Lotis. Verve tensed; could she allow the mage to return with them? Her stomach twisted at the memory of Ivet’s gentle, I trust you.
But at last Ellory struggled upright. “I’ve always managed on my own. Thanks again.” She met Verve’s gaze, and something like hope lingered there. “You know, for not killing me and all.”
“Keep your word, and I’ll continue the trend,” Verve replied.
She’d not meant it as a joke, but Ellory’s mouth pulled into the beginning of a smile. “Fair enough.” She hesitated. “I… owe you one.”
No doubt the shiftling meant the words only as a courtesy. But Verve nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ellory glanced at Alem. “Can I shift?”
“If you have the energy,” he said. “Shifting shouldn’t affect my healing work.”
Ellory closed her eyes and melted into her ummaroc form. Alem drew back, alarmed, but Verve stood her ground as the sickle-drake bobbed her head at them, then slipped off, limping over the dock and into the tall marsh grass.
But the shape-changer’s heart remained the same: gratitude and hope had overtaken some of her fear, at least for now.
A warm, sturdy arm slipped around Verve’s waist. “You did a good thing,” Alem murmured, close.
His lips brushed against her ear, and she shivered. “I tried.”
“That’s all we can ever do.”
By now, the sun was creeping toward the horizon. It would be dusk soon. Verve searched for Ellory and found her still heading away, toward the forest, where she had more places to hide. No other mages had come into Verve’s awareness, nor Legion, nor Atal’s Chosen.
Not yet. The moon Atal hung in the sky, nearing fullness; a reminder of Verve’s old life that she knew, deep down, she could never fully be free from. Danya could still destroy everything she had come to love. Love.
If she was going to protect Alem, protect Lotis, she needed to be at her best; she needed to be free of her fear. She thought again of Celidon and Jocasta’s lives, of the sense of kinship she’d felt simply by looking back into the memories she’d taken on, albeit unwittingly.
Celidon and Jocasta’s memories brimmed with their respective times as meridians. Soul-healers, meridians were apparently called. Well, if anyone’s soul could use some healing, it was Verve’s.
Something warm curled within her chest: a sense of rightness not entirely her own. This was no rational decision, but it was the right one — the only one. Space-Between-Stars’s approval came against the Fae’s will, but Verve felt it all the same.
“Alem?”
“Verve?”
She leaned her head against his sturdy shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her close, like his embrace could shield her from the worst of the world. “I want to try something,” she said slowly. “But I… I don’t want to be alone.”
“That’s ominous.” His embrace tightened. “But you have me, Verve. Whatever you need, you have me.”
