Page 63 of Silverbow
“Yes,but to invoke the mark, at least one of the parties must have a connection to the gods,” Oryn said. “And the fact that it was still on his skin, meant he hadn’t yet fulfilled it.”
She frowned, her brow furrowing. “He swore a vow to a wielder?”
“He swore a vow to someone with a gift, unless he had his own.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know.”
“What were you doing with two jars of lamp oil?” Aiden asked jovially.
She huffed a sigh as she tipped her head back to rest against the wall. “Something rash.”
“Like in Innesh?”
She winced. She clearly hoped they hadn’t connected her to Innesh. “I may or may not have felt a certain kinship with the accused.” Bade snorted, and she leveled him with an icy glare. “I don’t find much sport in watching flesh melt from people’s bones, do you?”
The blademaster blanched.
Oryn still didn’t understand what it was Mosphaera wanted with the girl, but if there was any doubt she was a Silverbow, it was evaporating by the minute. Even when she was striking blind, she was striking true. Fire was to Bade Bandone what small spaces seemed to be to her.
Enya
Enya glowered at the men who filed out of the room, seemingly content with her interrogation. They’d introduced themselves in the end, as if they hadn’t knocked her out and dragged her off to only the gods knew where.
The silver haired demi-elf called Oryn still sat on the stool beside the bed. Icy blue eyes fixed on her. She still found them unnerving, even if she was too angry to find his hard face handsome any longer. He reached over and set Liam’s horse head carving on the side table. She snatched it up before he’d fully drawn his hand away, taking comfort in the feel of it against her skin.
“What is it?” He asked.
“I thought we were done with questions,” she snapped. He quirked a brow and her traitorous heart went skittering. “It’s just something from home.”
“I can heal you, if you want.”
She swallowed, pressing back farther into the wall. “I thought there were no gifted healers outside of Oyamor.”
“There’s one, but I’m not her.” He shrugged. “Complete healing requires gifts and training I do not possess, but I can do enough. Unless, that is, you want to keep the scar. Some people collect them.”
Enya raised a hand to the tender skin on her cheek and sucked in a sharp breath. She’d all but forgotten the wagon driver’s whip until now. She couldn’t visit a wise woman for stitches with her bounty plastered everywhere, though she didn’t know if she was entirely comfortable with a gift being used on her. The stories of elven healing were miraculous, but the gifts were also dangerous.
He must have read something of her hesitance. His voice softened as much as iron could. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever had healing done. It doesn’t hurt.”
Enya raised her chin and made herself stare into those depthless eyes. “Fine.”
He brought big, rough hands up to cup her jaw. Startled by the contact, her breath caught as every hair on her body tried to stand on end. Any icy ripple that started at his palms spread across her face. She failed stifle a gasp. It swept down her neck and back, all the way to her fingertips and toes. As the waved traveled, her skin itched where it knit back together and the aches in her travel weary muscles washed away.
Her jaw fell open when his hands broke from her skin and she brought her own up to feel what he’d done. The lash was gone, not scabbed, not scarred, simplygone, like it had never been. The corner of his mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smile, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“You said you’d answer my questions if I answered yours,” she said.
He cocked his head. “I said I’d considertelling you why I offered an escort.”
“Well?”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “We hunt the godsung gifts. See the gifted to sanctuary, when they want it. Your father wasn’t the only to refuse, but most accept.”
Thatcertainly had been what she was expecting. “Why?”
He gave another shrug. “It suits my purpose.”
“Which is?”
