23

“Do I know you?” I ask.

“Kai?” Jadon calls. “Where are you—?” He breaks from the trees, sword at the ready, and comes to a stop behind me.

Seeing Jadon, the stranger recoils and backs away. He mutters, “I must,” and then, “Oh dear . ” Without another word, he turns and runs back into the forest.

“Hey!” I shout after him, but he doesn’t stop.

“Who was that?” Olivia asks as she and Philia catch up.

Jadon slips his sword into its sheath and helps me up from the ground. “What happened?”

But I can’t answer him, not that I know anyway. Right now, my brain is fuzzy and wavers like a mirage. That man’s eyes, that vibrant color of lilacs, are unlocking a memory. But only flashes—nothing recognizable or substantial. Biting back the pain from my injuries, I stagger through the woods, trying my best to keep up with the stranger. He is many, many years older than me, yet I’m struggling to catch up. How is he running so fast?

I direct my focus to the distant violet glow emanating from the ouroboros on the old man’s staff.

That staff, that snake, it symbolizes…

A name snaps into my mind, and I stumble, bracing myself on a tree to break my fall. Renrian . The order of enchanters. I take off again, leaves crunching beneath my feet as I pick up speed. I’ve met a Renrian before. I know I have. As I run, I coax the memory from my mind’s shadows.

A banquet table…and golden cups of wine…applause and…shouts…glistening lavender eyes and air that shimmered and…goodness. Kindness. I don’t remember much else, but I do recall that Renrians like parties. Renrians are also wise and kind, and obviously good in a fight. The old man clearly helped us defeat the burnu and didn’t turn his staff on Jadon and me. He’s seen my injuries, and I’m hoping, since Renrians are good, wise, and kind, he’ll assist in some way. Bandages. Soap. Rum, maybe.

“Kai, wait up!” Jadon shouts.

I look over my shoulder but don’t stop my stride—I may not be able to start again, not with this bright-white pain shooting through my body.

Jadon runs behind me, his giant sword ready, the blade sharp and sticky with dead burnu. Farther back, the girls follow, twigs snapping under their frantic footfalls.

I trip over a log and fall into the dirt. Tangled tree roots and vines snag my clothes and yank my hair. Jadon scuttles from behind and helps me free myself from their grasp. With his help, I stand and sway, but the forest now tilts and swings, and hot spasms of fire convulse up and down the left side of my body.

“Kai.” Jadon’s voice sounds far away. “Hold on to me!”

I blink but see only reds and blacks, then smoke, reds and blacks. I grasp his arm with my hot hands, my core hotter. “I’m okay,” I say. “I’m okay,” but I dare not let him go.

We stagger through the forest, and sometimes my feet touch ground, sometimes my body feels light.

“Almost there.” Jadon’s arms around my waist are steel buckles keeping me from collapsing. His hands feel like balms and fire. His lips singe my forehead.

The forest is a jumble of sticks and branches, rocks and trees. Though my head swims, I know that we’re staggering up and out of the woods. The cold, loose air tells me that we’ve stepped into a clearing. There, ahead of me, a cottage perches on a small bluff, and a column of smoke puffs from its chimney. The house is cloaked in a sea of mist, droopy branches, and the dark leaves of weeping willows. No light escapes from behind its shuttered windows—but there is the cobalt glow of an old man shining through the walls.

“He’s in there,” I whisper.

“Hiding?” Philia’s out of breath, and her voice is strained and shrill. “Didn’t he see you were injured? You need help.”

We lurch up the flagstone walkway, and Jadon bangs on the solid oak door with the side of his fist. “We know you’re in there,” Jadon yells. “Either you open the door right now, or I’ll—”

The door swings wide, and light spills out. “Or you’ll what?” the old man growls, snapping back the bell-shaped sleeves of his robe.

“Please, let us in,” I say, gasping as pain overwhelms me.

The old man hesitates, and his unsettled gaze shifts from my contorted face to the girls huddled behind us to Jadon’s giant sword.

“She’s injured,” Jadon says. “We need help. We won’t ask for more than she requires.”

“Help me,” I beg. “Please?”

The Renrian squints at Jadon, then steps back to open the door wider. “For her.”

Jadon helps me cross the threshold into the cottage.

I look back at the Renrian, placing a hand over my pounding heart. “Thank you…” The words barely make it past my lips as the world goes black.

“Kai, can you hear me?” Jadon’s voice sounds fuzzy and far away.

I open my eyes to find him seated next to me on the floor where I’m propped up on a sea of brocaded pillows. I shift on the pillows and hiss a breath as pain radiates from my injured leg—now wrapped tightly with bright-white gauze—and tendrils throughout my body.

The old man studies me from across the room. Behind him, a kettle bubbles over a fire blazing bright in the stone hearth. Shadows of the flame flicker across the dark ceiling beams. In the pantry, steel cookware with silver-tacked leather handles gleam as bright as the glass and ceramic dishware on the shelves. Jadon’s sword leans against the front door.

“Where are the girls?” I croak.

“Camping outside,” Jadon says, concern furrowing his brow as he leans closer. Despite the shadows of the cabin, the warm blue of his eyes twinkles. “How do you feel?”

How do I feel? I feel like I’ve touched the rim of death. If it weren’t for him—

He’s why I’m here. Those were Jadon’s hands holding me and guiding me through the woods. Those were his arms clenched around me, keeping me from falling. Those soft eyes, assuring me that he’s got me. Remembering all that makes heat flood through me. Heat that I welcome, heat that doesn’t hurt.

Even with that cut on his cheek, Jadon still looks as though he rode a star to join us mere mortals in a cottage. Me? I feel and taste like a pit of dirty water skimmed with furry mold after a storm of skunks and bears drowned in its depths.

No matter. I lift a heavy arm to touch Jadon’s face in gratitude. “You saved me,” I say, my words thick and syrupy.

“Actually, I saved you,” the Renrian interrupts.

Jadon clears his throat and stands. The air chills without him close.

“Sir, we’re very grateful,” Jadon says. “Even if you did run from us.”

“Do you mean I overreacted?” the Renrian asks, placing his hand over his heart in mock disbelief. “Do you mean that I, an old man, should have stood there and allowed you, a young man, a much bigger man, wielding a great sword that was already dripping with gore and violence, to attack me? Are you saying that I shouldn’t have run from that ?”

I shift my gaze from the old man’s face to the ouroboros staff set against a workbench. “We didn’t expect to find anything good out in those woods,” I say. “Please understand that we’d just survived a burnu attack. We’re grateful for your help back at the dell, too.”

The old man respectfully nods his head and says, “Of course.” He then lifts a silver brow at Jadon. “See how easy it is to have good manners?”

“We’re trying to reach Pethorp,” Jadon says, his cheeks red. “Are we close?”

The old man waggles his hand. “Closer than you are farther.”

Jadon grumbles, but I can only laugh. This is familiar and so welcome after the days I’ve had. “You are Renrian, yes?” I ask, my voice as coarse as gravel.

Our host nods again. “Since the day I was born.”

“My memory is somewhat foggy.” I carefully shift to a more upright position, shoving several pillows behind me. “Please forgive me if I’m incorrect, but Renrians are shothis, yes?”

“I’ve met Renrians before,” Jadon cuts in, “but I don’t know that term—”

“Shothi?” The old man’s tone is one of outrage. “Respectfully, Renrians are no mere sages . While we are scholars who know countless spells because we’ve read about them, we do more than read about anything. We create spells, potions, and tonics because we are alchemists , too . My potions and tonics do more than paralyze limbs or grow hair,” the Renrian continues, “though they do that, too. My brews and elixirs change people and objects from blah to bold. A shothi ,” he scoffs. “Really.”

His violet eyes glow bright as he gestures to his staff leaning against the wall. “Warruin, my staff, has changed the course of history. Why… Do you not recall the Battle of Riddy Vale, during the Great War? The Dashmala warriors were closing in on that vale of men inhabited mostly by women, children, and the aged? There were a few healthy soldiers left, but nowhere near the numbers needed to defeat the Dashmala.”

Jadon opens his mouth to speak but changes his mind once I give him the slightest shake of my head. We can’t afford to offend our long-winded host, not with my grave injuries. The old man wants to talk? Let him talk. And then let him offer food and water and continue to treat my injuries while he blathers on about battles and wars.

The old man lifts his hands and stares out across the room as if witnessing the battle. “And there I was, with countless defenseless people around me, and I lifted Warruin, and I held her out over the vale, and I made that valley resemble a fiery chasm of rock and lava.”

He sweeps a hand over that fiery valley he’s envisioning. “And as the Dashmala—who, to this day, hate me—as they reached the outskirts of Riddy Vale, they saw desolation, the end of the world.” The old man juts his chin and points to himself. “That chasm appeared due to a simple spell and the tilt of my head. I alter the looks of things and the behavior of things, making them more powerful than what they truly are. They become enchanted . Because I do that , too.” He smirks. “A shothi . Dearest, I am all the things. ”

I dip my head. “Okay.”

His ivory cheeks brighten, his shoulders sag, and his chest deflates. “That’s all you can say after hearing my epic tale of cunning and ingenuity?”

I pause, then say, “You are all the things and more.”

He smiles, lifts his chin. “Thank you.”

“Tell me your name.” I try to focus on him, but he’s blurry and his blue light is far too bright. Everything in this sitting room is far too bright.

He bows. “Veril Bairnell the Sapient. And now, what do they call you?”

“Nothing special. Just Kai.” I point at Jadon. “And he’s—”

“He’s already told me,” Veril says. “While you were passed out. And such a boring name at that.”

Jadon fake-smiles and gives an annoyed I’m standing right here wave.

Veril considers him, grunts, then returns his attention to me. “You say that you’re suffering from memory lapses, but how do you know of shothis, Just Kai?”

I run my fingers over the soft edge of a pillow at my side. “To clarify—‘just’ is not a part of my name. I’m Kai, and I know that term because… I… I remember sitting in an outdoor classroom next to a boy with eyes like yours. His name was…” I stare at the flames in the hearth, searching my brain, then sigh. “I don’t remember, but he taught me ‘shothi’ and ‘examia’—”

“Truth,” he translates, nodding.

“And ‘dawstering’—”

“Daughter.”

“I think his parents worked for my parents… Or maybe his parents were my teachers?” My mind muddles, and I squeeze my eyes shut to stave off the coming wave of nausea. “Forgive me—I haven’t been myself lately.” I slump back on the pillows.

Jadon kneels beside me again. “We appreciate your help with her leg and for allowing us to stay until we can be on our way. We’re a long way from home.”

“Some of us more than others.” Veril scrutinizes the bandage wrapped around my leg. “Oh dear. At it again. I didn’t think you had any blood left, Just Kai.”

I push out a breath. “This wasn’t my best battle.” I try to sit myself up again on my elbows, but my body rebels, and I lose the battle against nausea and fogginess. I want to vomit.

“So, can you help her more?” Jadon asks. “I mean, beyond the bandages?”

“Of course I can,” Veril says, shuffling to a small alcove off the sitting room. “I must gather a few more things first. If you’ll excuse me.”

I turn on my side and study the room to distract myself from the pain.

Over there, drying herbs and dry-aging ducks hang from string and nails. Living plants, some with flowers, grow on vines. Rows of jars filled with green things, slimy things, and prickly things sit over there, there, and there. There is not one crumb, not one fallen leaf on the bright wood floors. The lamps burn bright and steady. Wood crackles in the hearth, and the room isn’t too hot, nor is it too cold. All of it is orderly. Too orderly.

The sitting room shimmers with flecks of silver as though this space doesn’t really exist, as though this space is a mirage…which it may be. He is Renrian, after all. Enchantments—that’s just one of all the things his order does; he’s told us so much already.

“How can I help?” Jadon asks, sitting cross-legged beside me.

“Make everything stop hurting.” Tears burn my eyes, and my side pulses.

“We’ll fix you back up,” he says.

A teardrop rolls across the bridge of my nose. “Thank you for not leaving me behind.”

He catches my teardrop on his knuckle. “I’ll never leave you behind, Kai. We’ve got places to go, right? People to find.”

“Amends to make,” I whisper.

He catches another teardrop. “I’ll do anything to make you whole, to keep you safe.”

“Promise?” My skin warms from his touch, and his touch is all I want right now.

His eyes soften. “Promise.”

My cheeks grow hot.

“Here we are!” Veril announces, tottering back into the room. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything!”

Startled, Jadon sits back, and just like that, the air around me turns chilly again.

Veril sets an armful of clean cloth, several small bottles and jars, and a big bowl of soapy water on the table.

“Would you help me expose the wound again, young man?” he asks. “We’ll start with the leg and work our way up, just like before.”

Jadon meets my eyes. “Kai?”

I nod. “Go ahead.”

Jadon’s touch is soft and careful as he tears away the rest of the tattered pants leg, then peels back the gauze above my ankle. He pulls his hands away in horror and whispers, “Fuck, Kai.”

I shudder at the exposed injury. “Oh no.”

Long, jagged claw marks stretch across the length of my thigh. No longer smooth, the skin is inflamed and swollen, hot to the touch. Fresh blood seeps from the deep, raw gashes. No matter how much I want to look away, I can’t. Heart hammering, I draw a ragged breath. The metallic scent of blood mixes with the smell of brewing infection. While I’m satisfied I’ve survived this attack, I shudder knowing that despite my new powers…

If he breathes, he bleeds . That’s what I knew about the Otaan back in Maford. And if it bleeds, then it can die. I can die.

Jadon makes room for Veril to work. Scraping a hand through his hair, he retreats to the fireplace, that deep, broody scowl back on his face.

“They certainly took a few good swipes,” Veril says, his expression grim.

“One of them died with a little bit of me caught beneath his nails, that’s for sure.” I try to smile bravely, but the smile slips as the pain flares hot and sharp.

“Oh, he got more than a little bit,” Veril says with a wink. “But worry not, dearest. It may take a moment, but we’ll get you patched up. Then we’ll sit down to a good meal, and you can share the adventures that led you to fight burnu in the dell.”

“Whatever you need me to do,” Jadon says, pacing now, “please let me know.”

Veril looks over to Jadon and nods. “First things first… again .” He reaches behind him and turns back to me holding a cup and a flask. “Rum, the most proficient medicine of all.”

As I drink, the good kind of heat spreads across my chest. I hold the cup out to Jadon. “You need medicine, too.”

He laughs, then returns to crouch beside me. He drains the cup, and color blooms in his face. “That makes me want to cry.”

Veril says, “The best rum in all of Vallendor.”

Jadon returns to the fireplace, averting his gaze as Veril dabs my skin with wet rags.

“Progress,” Veril says. “When I cleaned your leg the first time, I used eight rags. Now, only three.” He selects a pearled vial from the many spread around him and pulls away cotton from the bigger puff. “You’ve told me how you know about shothi, but tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?” I grit my teeth even before he applies the soaked cotton to the top of the gashes.

“Your amulet caught my eye back in the woods,” Veril says. “This sounds dramatic, but it was alive. Glowing. Beautiful. I’ve seen—” He pauses, his gaze on my neck.

“What’s wrong?” I reach for my amulet and then move my fingers over my collarbone. I don’t feel the chain, and I don’t feel the pendant. “Oh, no.”

Jadon glances at us over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Where did it go?” My heartbeat bursts through the rum cloud and hammers wildly again. I sit up, patting my tunic, checking the floor around me. “It’s gone. My amulet is gone!”

Is this why I’ve been so weak? Is this why I can hardly stand the pain from these wounds? Is my amulet as protective as I’m making it out to be?

“When did you last have it?” Jadon asks, shuffling the pillows to look underneath.

I close my eyes and remember the pendant glowing as we fought the burnu. After we bumped into each other, I remember Veril staring at it. After that…I don’t remember it at all.

“You chased me through the forest,” Veril says.

I whisper, “Yes,” then look to Jadon in desperation. “And I fell, and the trees and roots grabbed for me, and I didn’t check to see that my amulet was still on. It must’ve fallen out between the dell and your cottage.” The clasp was weakened when Olivia yanked the pendant from my neck. But I didn’t expect it to fail.

I could wring her neck. Again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I press my warm cheeks to tamp down my rising panic.

Jadon is searching near the front door and beneath the table.

“Did you see it fall?” I ask him.

“No.” Jadon shakes his head. “I didn’t.”

“But I need to find it! I need to go—” I yelp as I try to rise from my nest in the pillows.

Jadon hurries over and places his hand on my shoulder to keep me from standing. “Kai, you can’t go back out there. You’re hurt , and those woods are treacherous.”

I try to rise again, but my leg screams with pain, forcing surrender. The pain rolls back like the surf, leaving welcomed numbness, then surges forward again, meaner this time, and I groan. Again, the wave pulls back—I feel nothing, and then rolls forward—I feel everything.

My spirit sags. I’ve lost my amulet again. I’m left with nothing to connect me to my past. How could I have been so careless?

“Wherever it is, it will still be there in the morning.” Veril offers a reassuring smile. “You’ll have to wait anyway until I bind these wounds. I don’t know if you noticed, dearest, but your leg is split open.”

My throat chokes with tears and disappointment, and I nod.

“I’ll go out and search,” Jadon offers, his eyes bright with urgency.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“What did I tell you moments ago, Kai?” He traces the edge of my face with a finger.

I’ll do anything to make you whole.

My body has swung back into numbness, and I can’t feel his touch. But I can imagine. “Thank you,” I whisper, my imagination making me breathless. A teardrop filled with relief and gratitude rolls down my cheek.

Jadon catches it on his knuckle, just as he’s caught the others, and smiles. That smile is like the dawn. That smile is hope renewed. He holds my gaze for a heartbeat more, then nods to Veril and grabs his sword from its place near the door. Sliding the weapon into his back scabbard, he pauses for a moment. Our gazes meet again, and I feel his promise as if he’s said it aloud. I’ll do anything to make you whole. He opens the door, levels his shoulders, pushes out a breath, and heads into the fading darkness without another word.