Page 44 of The Lost Child

A soft breeze across my face alerted us to the girl returning, the flap of the hut open to the wind and the fresh air behind her.

“Stay there!” I held up a hand to her, and slowly rose. Canavar tensed behind me, and I shook him off with a sharp tap of my foot. “Just stay there. I’ll come get it for you.”

The tension in her shoulders relaxed as she held out a tray that held two bowls of soup, and two fresh new loaves of bread.

“Sorry,” I apologized, shooting another glare back at Canavar. Her dark eyes darted away nervously, but her head bobbed in response.

As I wrapped my fingers around the smooth wood of the warm tray, I took a moment to study her. This girl was younger than me, but likely knew more about her own magick then I could figure out in the next decade.

“Can you …” I cleared my throat, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Can you break curses?

Her eyebrows rose before she could mask her disguise. “Small ones,” she answered back, her voice soft yet confident.

My heart sank. “So for big curses that were set long ago … you need an older, more experienced witch,” I confirmed.

Her nose wrinkled in contemplation. “Not necessarily. Grinda says intent and purpose rival age and skill. Sincerity overrides compulsion, and will negates the length of time.”

Oh? My surprise must have shown. Alkdama hadn’t mentioned that.

“I’ve only read about it, not seen it,” she rushed to assure me. “Cases of daughters saving mothers, mates saving mates. Nothing casual.” Her eyes flicked subtly to Canavar, but I caught it all the same.

My lips felt suddenly dry, so I licked them. “Mates, you say?” I whispered back. This wasn’t the first time I’d heard the word.

She nodded seriously. “Mate bonds trump blood bonds—always.Truemates, that is.” Again her eyes flicked to Canavar and back to me.

My neck heated at the implication. “Right. Great.” My mind whirled ahead to Canavar being back in his cell, locked in his chains.

“Hey, you wouldn’t have any way to get through heavy chains or locks, would you?”

I don’t know what made me ask her, but I felt a sense of kinship with the young witch that I hadn’t felt from Alkdama or any of the others.

Her eyes glinted knowingly, and she slipped a small bottle out of her pocket. “Venom from the zahar snake will eat through any metal, even iron.”

I grasped the tiny bottle in my hands as though it were a solid piece of gold. “What do I owe you?” I asked her, doing a mental catalog of everything I had on me. Nothing seemed like it would be a good enough trade for such a gift.

“Nothing. Your presence has already brought a gift. It remains yet to be seen what the effects are.” She grinned at me, but I didn’t understand.

Canavar growled from the corner, no doubt at the end of his patience.

“Thank you,” I whispered and slipped the bottle into a small pocket near my chest. I turned my back to her and walked quickly to the back of the hut with lunch. Canavar’s eyes smoldered into mine as I laid his tray down, and picked up the bowl. “No spoons. Just sip it.”

I modeled how to hold the bowl and take small sips. Carefully, he picked up the decorated clay pot, eyeing the intricate designs that were painted white and upraised around the bowl. We certainly didn’t have anything that fine back on the island, and if we did, there’s no way it would have been given to Canavar.

Tentatively, he sipped at it, brows furrowed as if this liquid was in no way appropriate to quell his hunger.

“I’m guessing soup wasn’t a thing for you, huh?” I took a few more drinks of mine, relishing the spices and the way it warmed me from the inside out.

Canavar shot me a look, then chugged the entire thing in one go.

I spat out the mouthful I had in my cheeks, unable to contain my laughter. The look of disgust on his face was the most hilarious thing I’d seen in months—years, even. But he drank it all the same, no doubt knowing never to take any kind of food for granted.

Soup went down the front of my leathers and dripped onto my legs from being unable to hold in my laughter. I wasn’t even mad. Canavar grabbed a fur and thrust it at me, trying to dab at my damp mess. I leaned forward to push him away, and our foreheads bumped. I jerked back but he held me still, just staring into my eyes. Our noses were almost touching.

I swallowed heavily, uncomfortable with such undivided attention. “You shouldn’t stay here because of me,” I whispered. “I feel bad that I’m making you sick. Just leave without me.”

He pulled back at that, huffing. I couldn’t help but grin at his stubbornness. I wanted him to talk again so badly. When I smiled again, he leaned back in, carefully resting his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.

Canavar felt warm. I relaxed into him, suddenly fatigued. I’d learned a lot today, but a few things were startlingly clear. The new ritual had left my body sore, but Alkdama assured me it would fade by tomorrow. And now the mosquitos wouldn’t bother me!

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