Page 57 of Fortune's Blade

“They are deciding what they will do if I become . . . annoyed,” she told me.

The new voice was rich, dark, and slightly grating, but not unpleasant. I felt it flow over me and the pain seemed to ebb slightly along with it. Or maybe I was imagining things.

Nothing would surprise me right now.

“Is this . . . permanent?” I whispered.

“That is what Mar is afraid of,” she told me calmly. “That I will end up a hybrid who cannot shift. Trapped forever betwixt and between and useless to them. There are legends of such things, although no one who lives has seen it.”

She picked up the pot and breathed on the salve or whatever it was that it carried. I assumed Claire had made it, as she was a decent herbalist who was more than conversant with fey plants. But she couldn’t do that, I thought, as the gunk in the bowl began to glow.

Little pieces of what looked like green starlight began to roam around the inside of the pot, as if looking for a way out. And after a moment, they found one, circling up into the air and shedding faint light shadows onto the tent, the forest floor, and my body, which was in worse shape than I’d thought. I still couldn’t see it too well, for which I was grateful, but there were dark patches all over me, blood and burnt flesh and—

I looked away, not really wanting to see. I wasn’t sure this amount of damage could be healed, and if it could, it would take ages. Ages in which Dorina would be alone and facing who knew what kind of dangers. Ages when I couldn’t find her, or try to help her—I couldn’t even help myself right now! The moment of hopelessness I’d felt on the castle ramparts suddenly returned and multiplied by a factor of ten, to the point that I was gasping in panic, was choking on it.

What if I’d killed her? What if my stupid bravado with Steen had cost us whatever advantage we had left, and we’d never find her? She had been there for me, so many times, whenever I’d needed her, and yet I wouldn’t be there for her—and it was my fault! It was all my—

“Calm yourself,” Claire, or whoever I was dealing with, said. It was the dark rumble again, so I assumed it was her other half, but didn’t know; didn’t care. It was still Claire; she was in there somewhere, and might be my only hope. I grasped her arm, which seemed to startle her slightly, but she didn’t try to pry me loose.

“Dorina,” I gasped out.

Her head tilted. “What about her?”

“You can still find her. If I don’t . . . if I have to be left behind, you can still search—”

“Not like this,” she began, but I didn’t let her finish.

My hand contracted, even though I didn’t tell it to, but despite the fact that a dhampir can bend steel, it didn’t so much as dent the slick scales covering her arm. “Please! I was an idiot to attack Steen—”

“You were that.”

“—but she shouldn’t have to pay for it! And I think your brother was right; I don’t think anyone else can find her. But you—”

“Why do you care so much?” she asked, and the eyes were pure purple now, and strangely intense. “Wouldn’t it be easier with her gone? Wouldn’t you prefer to be alone in your skin, to not have to share your body, to have no more fits or vacant moments and be in control all of the time?

“I would think you might prefer her dead—”

And then I made the second dumbest mistake of that evening, and possibly of my life. I slapped her. And in my anger and outrage, I put some force behind it, enough to snap her head back for an instant.

The move also sliced my palm open, which was already crisscrossed with wounds from the battle, and the pain brought me back to myself a little. Dear God, I was crazy. And this wasn’t going to help Dorina!

“I’m sorry!” I said, almost before I’d finished the motion. “I’m sorry! Don’t take it out on her! She’s done nothing—”

I cut off abruptly, because that is what you do when a dragon gets in your face. This wasn’t one, not completely, but this close, with those mesmerizing eyes staring straight into mine and those scales ruffling up around her like a thousand tiny knives, it was hard to remember that. Yet, she didn’t attack me.

Instead, she looked more curious than anything, searching my face for something from barely an inch away, something she seemed to find, although it puzzled her. “You love her,” she finally said.

The words shivered over my skin like a living thing, which would have been disturbing enough on its own if today hadn’t rewritten my definition of the word. “Of course, I love her! She’s my sister, and I can’t—but you can help her, you have to help her! Please, don’t let her die out there! Not for some stupidity of mine—”

“Shhh.” She sat back and put a finger against my lips, and it was cool. I didn’t know why that surprised me. We stayed like that for a long moment, with her gaze unfocused and her scales slowly settling back into place. Then she spoke again, and I didn’t understand that, either. “Lýsa.”

She removed her finger and began smearing me all over with the glowing salve.

I watched her, uncomprehending. “What?” I finally asked.

“It means ‘light’ in the old tongue. Claire means the same, yes?”

“I . . . think it means ‘bright’,” I said, because at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else.

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