24. Twenty-Four #2
“Because I brought us here.” She busied herself, swatting at the streaks of mud on her breeches and avoiding his eye.
“And how did you do that?”
“I portaled us. Through shadow.” Nova sighed, as if sharing the information was a great relief to her.
Callan’s mouth fell open, and he sat in stunned silence for a brief moment, weighing which of his many questions he should ask first.
Finally, he settled on, “How long have you known you could portal?”
“I didn’t know,” Nova clarified. “Bryn told me my father is a shadow walker. I tried once before, but nothing happened.”
Callan pressed his lips together for a beat, schooling his tone before he continued, “It’s incredibly dangerous. Without proper training—”
“I know. I wasn’t thinking. I just acted.” Nova lifted her chin boldly. “Samira said—”
“Samira—I can’t believe she spoke so lightly of this with you,” Callan fumed, fully intending to give his friend an earful when next he saw her.
“She was speaking in generalities, Callan.” Nova threw her hands up. “I didn’t tell her I suspected I might be a shadow walker. If I had, I’m certain she would have been appropriately discouraging.”
Callan nodded, scrubbing a hand over his chin. “How did you manage to bring us here?”
“I didn’t intend to, exactly.” She cast her eyes about the campsite once more, her brows drawing together. “I was thinking only of getting us to safety. I suppose when we made camp here, I felt safe.”
The sky opened up then, a drizzling rain falling upon their heads.
“Bloody perfect,” Callan muttered. He stood and reached down to help Nova to her feet, then guided her to sit at the base of one of the scant trees dotting the moorlands. It did little to block the rain, but it was better than sitting out in the open.
Callan drew Nova’s hood up over her head and arranged her cloak around her knees, which she’d hugged to her chest. Brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, he pressed a kiss to her lips.
“In case I didn’t say so before, I’m very glad you’re safe.” He glanced up at the sky, then pulled on his own hood, his assessment of the situation complete. “A fire is out of the question, I’m afraid. And we’ve no way of reaching Bryn or Riven.”
He settled himself on the ground beside her and draped his own cloak around them both to share their body heat.
“Perhaps I can get a message to Bryn.” Nova tapped a finger lightly against her temple. “I’ve only ever been able to communicate with Nox and, at times, you, but I suppose it’s worth a try.”
Her eyes fell shut, her mouth twisting as she concentrated on the task. She gave a shrug after a moment, then curled her body into his.
“We’ll make do until morning,” Callan reassured her. “Then come up with a plan.”
Nova rested her head on his shoulder and toyed absentmindedly with his medallion for a time before her hand drifted down to his lap, and he knew she’d fallen asleep.
Bryn and Riven rode into camp shortly after daybreak, rousing Nova and Callan from their slumber.
All four mounts were unharmed, though an agitated energy clung to them like the lingering smell of smoke after a fire has been doused.
Nova rose to greet their companions while Callan set to work ensuring none of their belongings, particularly the two sword shards, were missing.
“Did you receive my message?” Nova asked, approaching Bryn.
“I did. Though the horses were practically halfway here already. Bastards ran like the wind.” Bryn playfully swatted Strawberry on the rear, wincing as she raised her arm to shoulder level.
Nova took Bryn’s arm by the wrist and gently lowered it. Her sleeve was bloodied and torn along the upper arm, a deep gash in her flesh visible through the torn fabric.
“One of them clipped my wing,” Bryn murmured, waving Nova off. The Wyldling’s eyes flitted to Riven, who seemed to have taken it upon herself to oversee Callan as he made a thorough inventory of his saddlebag. “It’s a scratch. I hardly feel it.”
“Sit,” Nova instructed, her tone inviting no argument.
Grudgingly, Bryn lowered herself onto a stone and held her arm out for Nova’s inspection.
Nova parted the rent sleeve and gently prodded at the fleshy part beneath the curve of Bryn’s shoulder.
At first, Bryn hissed through her teeth, but she quickly pressed her mouth shut, forcing a breath out her nose.
“She’s not looking,” Nova whispered, smiling faintly. “No need to put on an act.”
Bryn shot her a harsh glance, but her eyes softened almost immediately, a blush blooming on her high cheekbones. Bryn peered down at her wound, her nose wrinkling at what she saw.
“Can you do anything about it?” she asked, pulling her eyes away from the mess of tacky blood and looking up at Nova.
Nova sighed. “Not much, I’m afraid.” She cupped her hands over Bryn’s arm. “But perhaps I can take away the sting.”
She closed her eyes, calling upon Aurore’s healing touch as best she could. A faint warmth gathered in her palms, transferring to Bryn’s arm. A few moments later, the wound was mildly improved, though Bryn would have a scar.
“All patched up?” Riven sidled up to them, her tone light.
Even so, Nova sensed the genuine concern hidden behind her pasted-on smile.
“Better than she was,” Nova replied. “How did you fare?”
Riven made an exaggerated twirl, revealing nothing more serious than a head of wayward strawberry blond hair.
“Bryn and I took down two of the beasts.” Riven beamed. “They were fast, but we were faster, weren’t we?”
Bryn nodded in silent agreement, still blushing a bit, her lips curled up on one side as she gently rolled her shoulder to test the success of Nova’s treatment.
“So—” Bryn groaned, rising to stand. “What’s our next move?”
“Slow down, Wyldling.” Callan joined them, apparently satisfied nothing of import had been lost. “We’ve had a great deal of excitement. We need food—rest—before we press on.”
The three females glanced at one another, registering the state of themselves for the first time.
Riven laughed heartily before clapping Callan on the shoulder. “I like the way you think. Rest and relaxation it is.”