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“Perhaps not,” Rheih said with a shrug. “Either some Light Fae remain hidden, or you are over a thousand years old.”
“That still doesn’t mean I have healing powers,” I pushed. My heart pattered harder against my chest.
“I saw it happening, Keera,” Riven said, shaking his head. “When I picked you up after the dam exploded, half your face was blasted away. By the time we reached the wood, it had almost healed.” Riven’s jaw was hard. He seemed angry.
“Then why now?” I asked, standing up. “Why would I suddenly be able to heal after sixty years?” I crossed my arms. If I’d had magical healing abilities my entire life, I would have noticed.
“Have you ever been so gravely injured?” Rheih sipped from her cup. “You wouldn’t be a good Blade if you made it a habit to blow yourself up.”
I paused. She was right. I’d broken bones before, sliced my skin in sword fights, but nothing life threatening. I had always healed quickly, but I’d accounted it to the strength of my Elvish lineage. Halflings healed quicker than Mortals, and I had always healed quicker than other Halflings.
“But I have wounds that haven’t healed. Not completely,” I reminded him. Trying to avoid saying it directly in front of Nikolai and Syrra.
“None that haven’t been done with a mage pen,” Rheih answered coolly. “Apart from that your skin is flawless, Keera.”
I stared at her dumbly. I had spent so long fixating on all the scars I carried, I never realized that I should’ve been carrying more. I thought of the Shades, the bodies I had seen through the years. Stab wounds that never healed, burn marks from fire and torture. They all left their marks on their bodies. All but mine.
“How did you know that’s what they’re from?” I asked Rheih, the hair on my neck prickling. I stepped toward her, towering over where she sat.
“I feel like I’m missing some critical piece of information,” Nikolai whispered, his gaze bouncing from me to Rheih.
I ignored him, solely focused on the woman in front of me.
“Iama Mage,” Rheih said, still sipping her tea. “My daughter and I are the last of the Talon bloodline.”
I sat down in disbelief. Mages were magic wielders—Mortalmagic wielders. Stories of their kin were whispered around fires and haunted the bedside of frightened children. But they had been nothing but stories. Cautionary tales to keep children out of the woods. I stared at the frail woman in front of me, wondering how much magic she held beneath her skin.
“I knew what made those scars before I saw the pen myself. I reckon a mage pen is the only thing that could leave a mark on you.” Rheih peered down my arms, as if she could see the swirls of scars under my sleeves.
“You went through my things?” I asked coldly. She might have saved my life, but that didn’t mean I liked her.
“I went through them,” Riven said, casting his eyes down the table.
“Riven told me that he saw you with one,” Rheih said. “I didn’t believe him, so I made him fetch it from your things. Those were rare, even at the height of the magic folk. It very well may be the last one in existence. How did you come across such an item anyway?” Rheih’s pupils tightened. I realized now that her eyes were that of a bird’s. An eagle, the symbol of her bloodline.
“I stole it,” I admitted. There was no point in hiding it.
Riven and Nikolai grinned. Rheih just stared at me, trying to discern something in my eyes.
“I have no answers for you,” Rheih said. “But one thing is for certain: you were born of Fae. Perhaps the Light Fae are truly gone, but one was alive the day you were made.” She left the room without another word.
The next day, we split up. My presence was needed in the capital. There was no way to avoid the king’s wrath after what we pulled in Silstra. He would want his Blade at his side more than ever. Or my head, if he had any knowledge that I was the one behind the explosion. Plus, Prince Killian already thought I was on my way back.
Riven saddled the black horse beside me. We left the other one for Nikolai and Syrra. They would stay behind long enough for Nikolai to heal. Riven would send word where to wait for us once I met with the king. For now, our only goal was to make it back out of the capital with our heads—and hopefully, for me, with the king’s trust.
“We will meet again,” Nikolai said as I buckled in the last saddlebag. “And hopefully not in matching dungeon cells,” he added, pulling me into an embrace.
“Heal fast,” I whispered, squeezing him tightly. “I’ll need your humor when Riven gets into one of his moods.” Nikolai laughed before pulling Riven into their own embrace. If he whispered any warm goodbyes to him, I did not hear them.
Syrra placed a wrapped bundle into the bag beside me. “Some rabbit for the journey,” she said, pulling me into her stiff arms. I let out a breath of surprise but curled my arms around her. “Do not be reckless in the capital, child,” Syrra whispered, so quietly no one else would hear. “Do what you need to survive, and I will help you find the answers you seek.” She pulled back and gave me a warm smile, patting my shoulder before taking her place next to Nikolai.
I mounted the horse and waited for Riven to slide in behind me. I picked up the reins. If we had to share a ride, I would be the one to steer it. I waved at Syrra and Nikolai as we trotted down the path toward Koratha.
Riven didn’t say anything as we rode. His grasp on my waist was light and he leaned back like he was trying to put as much distance between us as he could. After an hour I felt compelled to say something. He would be useless in a fight if his back cramped.
“If you’re scared of hurting me,” I said, turning my head over my shoulder, “I promise I’m healed.” I pulled his arm around me when he didn’t answer. After a moment, he relaxed against my back.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he murmured in my ear. I had to keep myself from leaning into his breath on my neck.
