The Claw and the Crowned by Sarah M. Cradit

Author:Sarah M. Cradit [Cradit, Sarah M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Storyville Press

Chapter 19

You Came for Me

Imryll’s dreams were full of familiar but confusing images. Of reticent boys with claws for hands and endless journeys up mountains. She wished the flashes from the cold, wet gulch could be dismissed as dreams, but she knew better. Enzi had spooked, Imryll hadn’t reacted quick enough, and she’d flown through rain and air. What she didn’t remember was landing.

She remembered Drazhan though. At first she’d thought he had been a dream, but he’d pulled her mind back to the living with his intrusive telepathy and then he’d hauled her body to safety. The last thing she remembered was lying on the grass, her eyes slowly closing as she watched him secure Enzi’s saddle.

Much had clearly happened since. She was warm, for one. The large, unruly fur she lay on was only part of it. A fire crackled somewhere nearby. The smells of the place were less welcome, sour and musty from disuse. The roof above was still solid, but the wood was old, from another era.

Imryll winced before she shifted, but her arm didn’t hurt anymore. Only a distant ache remained in the spot where it had fractured. Her head swam with a dizzy spell, but that pain was gone too. What remained was the throbbing discomfort of having slept too long.

She glanced to the left and the right. Whatever the place had been, it wasn’t that any longer. Only a table and chairs were to her right, and a divan to her left—no, two divans, but one was rotted in the center.

Moonlight drew bands across the floor. Across her belly and legs. She glanced up and saw the source: a handful of smallish windows along what would have been a second floor, had they built the place that way.

What had Drazhan called it? A chalet. The word sounded far too ornate for something so barren and forgotten. But she was safe and...

Healed.

Completely healed.

Only phantom pains lingered.

Drazhan.

It all came back to him.

It always did.

Imryll filled her lungs and gave herself a moment to let that wash over her.

He had healed her. With magic. There was no medicine capable of the transformation she’d been through. Even magical healers were not as thorough, or so she’d read in the pamphlets Duke Rahn had had his students read as part of their Duncarrow youth curriculum. Healing took multiple sessions. With breaks in between. Time.

The moon’s position indicated it couldn’t have been more than a few hours.

Healing. Claws for hands. Telepathy. What else wasn’t he telling her?

Imryll started at the shake of boots on the floor. She started to cover herself, but there was already a blanket lying over half of her. It was moth-eaten and slightly damp but still mostly in one piece. She tugged it into place.

Drazhan’s shadow cut the light from the fire.

“How do you feel?” His voice lacked inflection. He could have been talking about anything. To anyone.

“Tired,” Imryll replied. She coughed to clear the rasp from her voice. “Confused.”

He walked away but returned moments later with a chair.

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