Page 64 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“Get back to classes and just…keep it quiet, okay?” I order Ilario.

He nods. “Not sure there is a way to keep that quiet, but I’ll do my best.” His gaze wanders to Summer, who is now nestled in my arms and sends her a crooked smile. “No more jumping off flying Strixes, alright?” he admonishes and gives me another nod before he leaves.

“I can walk by myself.” Summer glares up at me, daring me to disagree, but the effect is spoiled by her battered face and the one eye that is nearly swollen shut by now. She definitely took a hit against the head, and if Ilario is right and she’s disoriented and can’t stay upright, I better get to work.

“I’m sure you can. But I haven’t got all day,” I say and ignore her grumbling while I stride out of the room.

She jumped off a flying Strix? What the fuck?

Calix is right to admonish her, but he’s also right about something else: she’s ridiculously lightweight.

“What was that about jumping off Strixes?” I ask.

“He wouldn’t have been able to pull up otherwise.” She winces. Speaking clearly pains her, so I’ll hold off on the questions for now.

“Can you get me the whole story?”I ask Daeva instead. If birds were involved, she could get me answers quicker than anyone else.

“Sure,”Daeva caws.“This is how it ended.”She sends me a memory. Summer on the back of a Strix, his movements labored, his feathers streaked with blood, going straight for the cliff right behind Telos. My breath catches in my throat. They are never going to pull up in time.

He wouldn’t have been able to pull up otherwise.That had been her words. I watch helplessly as she throws herself off the Strix, tumbles through the air, slams into the top of the city wall, and doesn’t move again. The memory stops. I pull in a stuttering breath.

Holy mists.

I look down at the woman in my arms to assure myself that she still lives.

The hallways to the living quarters are empty at this time of the day, and my feet carry me to my room without thinking. I open the door with my gift, and Summer stiffens in my arms.

Is she uncomfortable being alone with Jared and me? I chose privacy because of her lie about her identity, but maybe she isn’t okay with that? That reminds me that Jared isn’t in on her secret.

“How bad is it?” I look down at her and try to convey my other question with a look.Is it okay if Jared knows?She shakes her head. So I will have to find something for him to do. But if this is going to be something regular, I’ll fill him in, with or without her permission.

“My head hurts, I can’t move my right arm, and every time I try, it feels like someone is burying a knife in it. My ribs hurt when I breathe. My leg hurts too…”

“Can you get us a healing kit and something to clean Summer up a little? I can’t see shit like that,” I ask Jared. It isn’t the best excuse, but I can’t think of anything else at the moment. Jared simply nods and leaves.

I put her down on my bed and lock the door. “We don’t have much time, so strip, Summer.”

“I would be happy to oblige, considering I’m sitting on your bed and all, but I think I need a hand.” I fight a smirk at her sass, relief coursing through me. Her attitude must mean she already feels better. The other part—well, it’s hard not to let that affect me.

Maneuvering her shirt, I help Summer get out of it, freeing her bad arm last.

There is purple discoloration and swelling all over the right side of her body.

Her right shoulder looks asymmetric compared to the other side and is probably dislocated. I go over her collarbones to rule out any breaks and encounter a bump on the left side, but she doesn’t flinch or make a sound. “Does that hurt?” I ask.

“No, that’s old.” Her voice sounds raspy. The implication hits me a second later, and I still. This broken bone healed on its own. She must have been in pain for weeks. Who lets anyone go through that when healers are so easy to come by?

The urge to deal out pain to anyone who let her suffer like that rushes through me.

She avoids my gaze, and I swallow the questions lying on my tongue since I have the feeling she would rather walk out than answer them. But I will get to the bottom of this once she’s no longer in pain.

I assess her ribs and am relieved to find them intact. Her skin is so soft I could skim over it for hours, but I resist the temptation and try even harder to ignore the goose bumps popping up all over her skin. She’s so damn responsive to my touch.

There are no signs of damage to her spine either, and I’m relieved. I can handle bruises, cuts, and even tears and simple breaks. But for more complicated things, I would have to get her to a healer. Given Ilario’s words and her reaction, I’m not sure that would go over well.

Seeing the extent of her bruising makes me grit my teeth. My emotional response to seeing her hurt unnerves me.

I notice scars, too many of them. Some even show signs of stitching.

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