Dark Skies by Danielle L. Jensen Page 0,116

“Well, I haven’t had the opportunity to bathe since before dawn.”

“No, it’s nice. You smell nice.”

Nice?

Grinding his teeth, Killian mentally berated himself for saying anything at all. “Most soldiers aren’t particularly fastidious about bathing, is all. Can get hard on the nose. Now let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time raiding my mother’s closet.”

Outside, the deimos were circling overhead, waiting for them to exit, but he’d brought his bow with him this time, and as he walked out of the shadows the creatures took one look at him and flapped their wings, soaring out of easy range. Arrow nocked, he shadowed Lydia as they walked over to the grate, waiting until she was in the tunnel before jumping down himself.

“I told Finn to have those who need to see a healer organized beneath one of the shelters,” he said, leading her through the tunnels. “But you need to be cautious. We don’t need to repeat what happened last night.”

She nodded, the crystals on her mask glittering as they passed beneath a grate. “I wish there was a book I could read on the subject.”

“You and your books.” He held out his hand, helping her over a pile of debris. “The temple here in Mudaire has a library, so there are undoubtedly books on the subject given it’s where Mudamora’s healers are trained.”

“I know it’s not possible, but I would love to see it.” Her voice was wistful. “It’s what I miss most about home.”

Killian was not inclined toward books, primarily because he was not inclined toward sitting still. “How did you meet Teriana if you spent all your time in a library? I can’t say I’ve ever known her to lose herself in the stacks.”

“You’d be surprised. A good many of my favorite linguistic texts came courtesy of her. She speaks every language on Reath, and her grammar is impeccable.” Lydia hopped over a puddle of filth. “But as to your question, we met when her mother was negotiating the latest iteration of the agreement between the Maarin and the Empire. One of the senators involved overestimated his proficiency with Trader’s Tongue—that’s what Mudamorian is called back east—and Teriana and I bonded over the humor of it all.”

“You lost me at favorite linguistic texts.”

She laughed, the sound filling his head and drowning out everything else. You are her senior officer, he reminded himself. You are helping her out of obligation. Your loyalty is to Malahi. But the logic spun away as she stepped into another pool of moonlight, looking for all the world like some mystical princess of the icy north.

“Sparkly!”

Killian jumped, sword half-drawn as he whirled around to find Finn standing behind him, hands held up in mock defense.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever gotten the jump on you before, Lord Calorian.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Killian growled, shoving his sword back into its sheath. Finn’s eyes were gleaming with amusement in the light of the candle he held. “What?”

“Nothing,” the boy said, laughing. “I didn’t say a thing.” Dodging around Killian, he made his way to Lydia, pulling up her hood so that it shadowed her face. “No more use of names, all right? I’ve started a few rumors about who is coming to do the healing tonight, and I’d hate for my hard work to be for nothing.”

Even with her face concealed, Killian could sense Lydia’s frown as she asked, “Who do they believe is coming?”

“Hegeria herself.”

Before Lydia could respond, Finn trotted off. “This way.”

They followed the boy, Lydia’s unease palpable. “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” she murmured. “They’ll know I’m not her.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Killian understood the pressure she was feeling. The pressure to be infallible. To be perfect. “All that matters is that they don’t know it’s you.”

He could feel that his words had done nothing to ease her concern, so he kept talking. “There will be many of them. More than you can possibly help in one night. How do you want to prioritize them?”

“I’ll be able to tell who is the worst off,” she answered. “We’ll prioritize those.”

“There still may be more than you can help in one night. Pulling someone back from death’s door is no small thing. Even for you.”

Her hooded head turned toward him. “What do you mean, even for me?”

You’re stronger than most. Exhaling, he considered his words. “I’ve been near death several times in my life. Because I’m marked, it has usually taken two, sometimes three healers to set me to rights. You did it yourself, and I

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