Page 45 of The Lost Child

Canavar gave a mild groan, and laid down on the furs. His eyes squeezed shut, and I rushed to grab his empty bowl.

“Here, if you’re gonna throw up lunch, try to do it in this.”

He shot me a miserable look.

Melancholy overcame me. I couldn’t break the curse, and Alkdama was being skittish about giving me any more information. But Canavar couldn’t return to my father. Would he rather suffer a lifetime of sickness than be a prisoner again?

What if it got worse until he died?

Fear squeezed my heart.

I broke away gently from Canavar, lying down on the furs. I would only rest my eyes for a moment, then I’d seek out more witches and continue training. I had to get stronger.

I yawned and turned over.

Sixteen

CANAVAR

Nerissa slept for a long time.

That was good, because it was much easier to keep an eye on her while she was sleeping. The bad feeling in my stomach and my head hadn’t left yet, but I had experienced greater pain than this mild discomfort. When I had fallen down before, I’d been thinking of the master. Even now, my body shook at the thought and made me ill.

I would not think of him then.

I didn’t like these witches with their knives and willingness to bleed. They could bleed wherever they wanted, as long as they didn’t bring Nerissa into it.

They are her people, though.

The thought made me uncomfortable. If Nerissa had people, then where were my people? Now that she was here, I doubted Nerissa would leave, so I would stay as well. It was clear she was not safe if these witches would simply let her blood spill anywhere.

What about your people?

The witch had called me a draken. People kept calling me that, and I knew it was what my kind were called, but it didn’t mean anything to me. It was just a word that brought unhelpful flashes of scales and color to my mind, but nothing more.

At least Nerissa was allowing me to guard her now. I glanced down at her sleeping form, rigid pride and satisfaction curling in my belly.

Silly female.

She was very fierce, but she didn’t need to be fierce all the time. I could help. Being fierce was what I trained to be. She didn’t need to hurt herself with cuts from her knife.

The magick had felt curious, though.

I shook my head, and instantly regretted it as a wave of nausea rose in my chest, flipping my stomach and forcing me to close my eyes. The witch had said it was the master calling me home.

I didn’t like thinking about the master.

It was true; I needed to return. He had sent me out on a task: to retrieve Nerissa and bring her back. I didn’t think I was disobeying by lingering here, ensuring both her and I were properly recovered before I flew back over the sea and back home.

He clearly thought otherwise.

Nerissa liked the other witches, though. She didn’t want to leave.

The tugging in my chest increased. I stood carefully, untangling myself from Nerissa and taking a cautious step forward, a step toward the ocean and toward home. The nausea went away, but only slightly.

I sat back down.

And barely managed to dive away from Nerissa before I was hurling up the meager lunch I’d eaten earlier onto the floor. I managed to miss the furs but still missed the bowl Nerissa had given me. When the last of my soup had surfaced again, I thought it was done.

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