Total pages in book: 239
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Then I saw what had caused the creature to collapse.
My heart sank at the sight. An arrow protruded from where its chest rose and fell in ragged, too-shallow breaths. Its fur wasn’t a reddish-brown. That was blood. A lot of blood.
The wolf tried to gain its footing, but it couldn’t get its legs under itself. I glanced in the direction it had come. Wayfair. The wolf must’ve gotten too close to the edges of the forest and had been spotted by one of the archers stationed on the inner curtain wall. Anger twisted the knot of sorrow weighing heavily in my chest. Why would they shoot such a creature when they were safely perched high above? And even if the wolf had been stalking someone, I still didn’t see the need. They could’ve made a noise or struck the ground near the wolf. They didn’t need to do this.
My gaze swept back to the wolf. Please be all right. Please be all right. I repeated the words over and over, even though I knew that the poor animal wasn’t okay. Still, the childish hope was a powerful one.
The wolf stopped trying to stand, its breathing becoming labored and more uneven as I peeled away from the tree. I winced as a twig snapped under my weight, but the wolf barely stirred or noticed. Barely breathed.
I was truly experiencing a temporary lapse in sanity while creeping forward. The animal was wounded, but even a dying creature could lash out and do damage. And it was definitely dying. The whites of the wolf’s eyes were too stark. Its brown eyes didn’t track my movements. The chest didn’t move. The kiyou wolf was still.
Too still.
Just like that terrible man’s chest had been when I tore the pouch of coins free. Just like Odetta’s chest was every time I checked in on her.
I tipped forward, staring at the animal. Blood trickled from its open mouth as tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t cry. Hadn’t since the night I’d failed. But I had a soft spot for animals—well, except for barrats. Animals didn’t judge. They didn’t care about worthiness. They didn’t choose to use or hurt another. They simply lived and expected to either be left alone or loved. That was all.
I was kneeling at the wolf’s side before I even realized I’d moved, reaching for the animal. I halted before my skin touched fur, sucking in a shuddering breath. My mother’s words from long ago echoed through my thoughts. Do not ever do that again. Do you understand me? Never do that again. I looked around, seeing nothing in the darkened woods. I knew I was alone. I was always alone in these woods.
My heart hammered as I thrust my mother’s voice from my mind and gripped the arrow’s shaft. No one would know. My hands warmed again, like they had when Nor’s heart had beat its last, but this time, I didn’t ignore it or will the feeling away. I welcomed it. I called it forward.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, yanking the arrow free. The sound it made turned my stomach, as did the iron-rich scent in the air.
The wolf showed no reaction as blood slowly leaked out, a sure sign that the heart had stopped beating. I didn’t hesitate even a moment longer.
I did what I’d done in the barn when I was six years old and realized that Butters, our old barn cat, had died. It was the same thing I’d done only a few times since I learned what I could do.
I sank my hand into the blood-soaked fur. The center of my chest thrummed, and the dizzying rush flooded my veins to spread across my skin. Heat flowed down my arms, reminding me of the feeling of standing too close to an open flame, and slid over and between my fingers.
I simply wished for the wolf to live.
That was what I’d done with Butters as I held the cat in my arms. It’s what I’d done those few times before. Whatever wound or injury that had taken them simply vanished. It all seemed unbelievable, but that was my gift. It allowed me to sense that a death had just occurred—like it had done with Andreia.
It also brought the dead back to life, but not like what had been done to the seamstress.
Thank the Primals and gods for that.
My heart beat once, twice, and then three times. The kiyou wolf’s chest rose suddenly under my hand. I jerked back, falling on my rear.
The heat throbbed and then faded away from my hands as the kiyou wolf scrambled to its feet, its eyes rolling wildly until they landed on me. I went still once more, both hands in the air as the wolf stared, ears pinned back. It took a wobbly step toward me.