Page 81 of In Her Own Rite

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I say, shaking my head. “You and Quinn seem to be getting along really well, though.”

He laughs. “You know Quinn’s gay, right?”

“What?”

“Yeah. Man, you’re obtuse.”

I think back for a moment to a conversation I overheard between her and Maren the other day, where they were joking about short nails. Maren’s bi, but I chalked the conversation up to yet another one of her pop culture references I didn’t get. But suddenly, I wonder…

“Anyway,” Gabe says. “Even if she wasn’t, I couldn’t see her like that. We practically grew up together.”

“So did me and Kier,” I say.

“That’s different. You guys are mates.”

I meet his eyes. “You can’t know that for sure.”

“No, butyoucan. And you do, don’t you?”

I swallow. “I guess. Maybe.”

“Come on. Was there ever anyone else?”

I shake my head. “No. Not really.”

“So stop messing around. I’d kill to have what you guys have.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll find your person soon enough.”

“I don’t think so.”

I blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think there’s someone out there for me. Or, well. I don’t know.” He looks at me sheepishly. “Maybe there is. But I don’t think I’ll find her again.”

“Again?”

“It’s a long story,” he says. “I’ll tell you some other time, when we’re back home, and I can walk, and you and Kieran have finally gotten your shit together. Deal?”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, even as I want to probe and ask. I’ve never seen Gabe hanging around someone before. Who is he talking about? But he looks down at his chest, and I take the nudge.

I put my hand to his body, closing my eyes and probing his energy again. I try the same tricks as earlier: moving my hand around, spreading out the fingers. Again, they don’t work. Finally, I decide try something new. I bring Quinn’s words to mind and sink my energy into the earth and sky. And then I bring my hand close to his skin and let out a long, slow breath. I send my energy into the wound, and as it goes, I whisper to it.

“Takka aka leif deij Gabe da tik heim tso nateyyaka,” I say.Thank you to Gabe’s body that you’ve protected him so well.“Takka feij al ta kantaaye mekot. Eije ek nakiyya veilije.”

Thank you for all your hard work. He’s safe now.

“Woah—” I hear Gabe say, but I can feel something happening in the wound, so I tune him out, focusing on the scars in my mind. I send more of my energy in, blue and purple and green, swirling like thekiyyulitin my mind. I feel Gabe’s body warm under my hand, opening to it. The clouding of his scars feels softer now. Pliable, like clay.

“Teij makka de nakiyya leijkayyu.”You can let go now.

“Em, what’s happening?” Gabe asks, and at the panicked edge in his voice, I open my eyes. In the inches between my hand in his chestisthekiyyulit—or at least, what looks like it. The energy is dancing between us, green and purple and blue. Instinctively, I snap my hand away.

“What the hell is that?!” I ask.

“I—Em. The scarring is gone.”

I look at his chest, and he’s right. In the place where three pink, puffy lines were a moment ago is just… his chest. There’s a faint red mark where my energy was, as though the skin was just touched by something hot.

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