Page 129 of The Girl Who Should Be Dead

She does.

“It gets far easier.”

If she hadn’t just had the last few weeks with Gurlien, she would never believe him.

“It’d be easier for you if you kidnapped someoneactually decent,” Mel continues, stretching out, and she summons the energy to scowl at him. “But that’s more of your taste than mine, we just all think you’re insane for it.”

He leans forward, tenting his fingers together, like she’s a bug under a microscope.

“They killed your bond?” he murmurs, and of course he could tell. “And are using it for control?”

She nods, the oft familiar pang of pain hitting somewhere beneath the bullet wound.

His face is serious, far more than it was before. “I’m sorry.”

It’s plain words, from someone who would know.

31

When Ambra awakes again, the mask is off, and the air around her chin is starkly fresh and the wards swirl above her again. A single bit of tubing trails across her face, laced into her nose, and breathing from that sends cold into her lungs.

Breathing hurts less.

A woman sits in the single chair next to the cot, reading a leather-bound book, and wild magic practically drips from her fingertips. Her dark hair is tied back in a braid, and her glasses are rimmed with gold, and there’s a thoughtful expression on her face, one that Ambra has really only seen on Wights before.

“You’re Alette from his stories,” Ambra croaks out, and the woman jumps, clearly startled.

“I…yes,” she says, blinking. “I suppose Gurlien would say something about that time. Here,” she pulls a water bottle out, cracking the seal, and there’s condensation around the plastic. “You’re probably very thirsty.”

Ambra is, and her hand shakes on the bottle. “I want to see him.”

“Do you want me to call in Axel?” the woman, Alette, says, and she’s perfectly earnest. “So you have someone familiar to talk to?”

Ambra manages a sip, and it burns down her throat. She sputters, coughing, but even that is easier than it was before.

The edges of her wound stretch less, though. The skin is knitting itself together, even without real direction from her.

“Nalissa teleported me to use me as a shield,” Ambra says, as strong as she can. Which isn’t much, at this point. “Right as he shot. He didn’t mean to, I know that, let me see him.”

She scowls at Alette, as if she could make her point through that.

“Oh you’re just like Mel,” Alette murmurs, which doesn’t help, but she’s pulled out a phone, tapping on it, and to see the wild magic interact with the technology is a little funny. “It’s two in the morning, so I doubt anyone else is awake, but I’ve let them know you said that.”

Ambra struggles to push herself off the bed, and Alette watches, as if waiting for her to fall, her expression never wavering, even after Ambra slumps back against the pillow.

“If you’re as human as you seem, you should eat this,” Alette says, pulling out one of those cursed protein bars, the type that Misia would buy. “Gurlien said you liked spicy food, so we can get you something after you eat this, but for now…”

Ambra has to set down the bottle of water for it, one hand still tied to the bed, and Alette tears it open for her.

“Stella is grateful,” Alette murmurs, passing the bar to her, and Ambra automatically takes it, before freezing.

Stella. The little Wight she had been caged next to.

Of course this Alette would know her.

“Is she okay?” Ambra asks cautiously, unsure. The littleWight was never taken out of the cage, never given the small reprieves that Ambra did, and Ambra heard her crying at night.

The sound had reminded her of Misia at first.

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