Page 23 of The Lost Child

I pressed my body up against his as much as I could and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

A little later, I was warm and toasty and didn’t want to get up.

Something rough brushed down my arm, putting slight pressure on my back. It made a growling sound, but I grumbled right back.

I wanted to sleep.

Then a cold nose nuzzled into my neck, and I nearly shrieked at the sensation. “ ‘M up! ‘M up!”

I blinked and tried to focus, panicking as I sensed a face next to mine. I barely managed to rein in my scream before I remembered it was Canavar, his green eyes glowing in the darkness.

“Hi.”

I blushed as he sniffed me, curious. “Er, thanks for earlier. I mean, uh—” I cut off my words there, having nothing to say. Scooting backward, I tried to be subtle as I nonchalantly got out of range from his chains. I didn’t think he’d attack me, but I wanted room to breathe. And think.

He growled as I skittered out of reach, his wings loosening and billowing out to fill the space. I hadn’t noticed it before, but while he was getting beaten, he’d tucked them tight against back. I wondered if they were more sensitive than the rest of his body.

My eyes wouldn’t leave his back. I wasn’t stupid; I had suspected all along that the random bouts of pressure I would feel here and there had something to do with my witch blood. I just didn’t know what.

“I guess I’m a healer?” I said to no one in particular.

Canavar’s nostrils flared, his eyes on me. I held out my hands in front of me, raw and bleeding from where I’d landed on the stones after being pushed. I closed my eyes, and willed them to heal.

Heal.

Heal.

I couldn’t gather the pressure that normally came. It was gone.

Come on, heal!

Canavar grunted, snapping me out of concentration. I opened my eyes and glanced down, but my hands were just as bloody as before. Just as dirty.

I crumpled, and hugged my knees close.

“Guess it’s just you and me, buddy. At least I kept my promise and made sure you didn’t die.” A giggle threatened to burst from my throat, but I tamped it down, knowing I’d just start laughing hysterically.

Canavar tried to edge near me, but the chains held him back. With a herculean effort, he pulled and fought against them, and the crank groaned from outside the cage. With a pant, he gave himself enough room to get a few steps closer to me.

I eyed him warily.

“What would you do if I let you out, hmm? Kill everyone on the island or just run away? Too bad I can’t.”

He stopped struggling and sat on his haunches like an overly large dog, listening to the sound of my voice. “I wish you could talk. Then this might be easier.”

And I was a healer.

Well, not really. I healed Canavar once, and I didn’t even know how. Some witch I was. I fantasized for a moment about revealing my new found power to my father—how proud he would be, and he’d clap me on the shoulder in front of all his other pirates and—

No.

Father had tipped his hand and showed his true colors. Even if I did manage to prove I wasn’t a failure of a witch (which would be difficult considering I had no idea how I healed Canavar), then he’d just use me the same way he used me for raids when convenient.

I wouldn’t be given any higher level of command.

He wouldn’t respect me any more than he already did.

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