Page 72 of Ties of Frost

Three of us, judging by the look on Kyrundar’s face.

But we didn’t have another choice. Either I died here, or I died when the curse overpowered Kyrundar’s magic. Or when the ice magic in my flesh killed my arm.

I lay down near the edge of the bed. Sajen climbed up and sat between me and the wall, while Rouven and Kyrundar stood over me. Rouven fussed over Kyrundar’s hand placement, physically repositioning Kyrundar’s hands on either side of my wound until at last he was satisfied. His own hands hovered over the puncture, glowing slightly blue, but I didn’t feel anything yet.

“Strengthen the barrier,” Rouven said, calm and low. “Can you draw it in slightly tighter?”

I winced at the chilly prickling and pulling sensation in my arm.

“Good. More power…good. Hold that. Add more power if needed to keep it that size. That exact size, understand? Good. I’m starting now.”

Rouven placed his left hand atop his right and pressed his right palm to my arm between and overlapping Kyrundar’s hands. Burning cold stabbed at my arm.

I screamed.

Twenty-Six

Kyrundar

“Hold it steady!” Rouven shouted above Zidra’s horrifying scream.

She jerked, and I had to press down harder on her arm to keep my hands in position. Gritting my teeth, I tried to ignore the pain prickling from my hands up my arms into my whole body—the sensation of malicious ice crystals skittering through my veins. That wasn’t what was happening, but fighting against the ice curse as it tried to escape Rouven’s and my magic felt like that. I couldn’t imagine how Zidra felt.

Her arm moved as if she were trying to tug free, and she screamed again, the sound echoing in the small cabin and leaving my ears ringing. Sajen slammed his forearm across Zidra’s shoulders and grabbed her left wrist, stopping her from reaching over to grab at her arm. Or perhapsto pry Rouven’s and my hands away.

I squeezed my eyes closed, unable to watch her twisted expression. Losing focus wouldn’t help her.Hold it steady. Iskyr!

Hold. Help! Steady. Iskyr. Iskyr, please—hold!

My thoughts devolved into incoherent pleas as hot tears slipped past my eyelids. The ice curse raged against Rouven’s efforts, and I sent more power into restraining it. Was my barrier keeping enough of the cold away from Zidra’s flesh? Was I doing enough? Sweat trickled down my temple, and my knees trembled with the intensity of the power flowing through me while my arms burned from the exertion of keeping Zidra’s arm still.

A strange sound undercut Zidra’s cries, and it took me a moment to realize it was Rouven, whimpering with pain. His hands trembled between mine.

Then Sajen’s voice added to the chaos, but his words were low and calm. “May Iskyr the creator hold you, may Iskyr the guardian heal you, may Iskyr the comforter give you strength.” He repeated the words, reciting the benediction over and over at a soothing pace.

I let the cadence of Sajen’s prayer run through me like cooling water. My breathing stabilized, and my exhaustion eased. Zidra’s screams lessened to groans, and Rouven’s hands steadied. I redoubled my efforts and confirmed that neither Rouven’s magic nor the curse had escaped my containment.

We can do this. Thank Iskyr, we can do this!

A strange tugging sensation came from Zidra’s wound.It felt like a sudden sinkhole, something and then nothing. Or like the tide rushing out, dragging everything on the beach out to sea. I clenched my teeth and strained to keep my magic from collapsing in on itself.

The magic churned, tumultuous, then stilled. I could no longer detect the malevolent, biting cold of the curse. Then Rouven’s hands drew back, and the sensation of his magic vanished.

“Kyrundar,” Rouven said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “You may slowly and carefully withdraw your magic from Zidra. Be sure you leave none of it behind, for her safety. You saved her life, but people aren’t meant to have ice magic of any kind embedded in their skin.”

I opened my eyes to find Zidra gazing up at me. A shaky smile curved her lips. A broken half-laugh, half-sob wrenched from my chest. She was going to be all right.

“Almost done,” I promised. “Just have to get this last bit of magic out.”

“Well, then I do need to cut away the necrosis and stitch you up,” Rouven said.

Zidra winced. “At least that won’t hurt as badly.”

“Does that mean I can go?” Sajen ran a hand through his hair, not quite hiding his trembling. “I need some fresh air.”

“You can go,” Zidra confirmed. “Thank you. I’m sorry for punching you.”

Sajen rubbed his chest. “Yes, remember that you escaped my grip and bruised my chest bone the next time you doubt whether you’re strong in your di’ora.”

---