Page 118 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“The fire?”I ask her.

“Contained hours ago. Rest, you need it,”she tells me. I’m still weak, and when I try to reach for my magic to check on Ara, I find it nearly depleted. That’s never happened before.

Ara is cuddled into me, sleeping peacefully.

I wasn’t too late this time.

This time, I didn’t bring death but life. Maybe there is a balance to everything, after all.

“Don’t want you to die, too.”The memory of what she said whispers through my mind.“Can’t heal me.”What had she meant by that? Why had she fought me when I started healing her? Had she simply been confused?

When Ara mumbles in her sleep, I lie down again, tucking her into me to keep her warm.She feels fucking perfect in my arms.

I let myself slip back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that Daeva will guard us with her life.

Chapter

Thirty-Four

TATE

When I wakethe following morning, I can hardly move. Ara wrapped herself around me like an octopus. It seems like she deemed me far more comfortable than the stone floor. Her head is settled on my chest, her arm and leg wrapped over me.

Not that I’m complaining.

“Finally. I’m starving here,”Daeva mutters and hops up. Blinding sunlight washes over me since Daeva’s wing is no longer cloaking us, and I throw an arm over my eyes to shield them, cursing.

The sun is already high in the sky. No wonder Daeva is hungry. My stomach growls at the thought of food, but I ignore it.

Even though my position is hardly comfortable, I don’t want to move. I watch Ara’s head rise and fall with every breath I take, and my fingers play with the strands that have come loose from her braid. Her hair is so soft, and even with the dust, it’s nearlyglowing in the sun. When my gaze wanders back to her face, I find her watching me.

“Good morning.” I smile.

“Good morning, I…” She looks around, her eyes traveling over the cliff and the trees, then she pushes herself up and looks down at my body beneath her. “Sorry for … um … claiming your body like that.”

“Did I complain?” I ask, drinking her up with my eyes while subtly checking for any signs of discomfort or lingering effects of her fall.

She sits up fully now and stretches, looking around. I instantly miss her warmth.

“What happened?” she asks.

I sit up as well, swallowing a wince. My body does not appreciate the night on the hard and cold stone floor.

I recount my side of the events. Her eyes grow wider and wider while I talk.

“Fuck, sunshine, you scared me. You were barely alive when I found you and kept drifting in and out of consciousness.” I shake my head, cold all over from just thinking about it. “But all is good now. I got to you in time and healed you.”

“What?” she shouts.

I’m confused. What is her problem?

“Never, do you hear me, never heal me when I’m unconscious! Promise me,” she urges.

I shake my head, not understanding.

“Please.” She looks at me with big, pleading eyes. “Please promise me.”

“What if you would die otherwise?” I ask.

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