A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(17)

“Howel?” Magnus murmured.

I forced him not to move. “You need rest.”

“Then stay with me. Laugh at my jokes and tell me I’m wonderful.” He winced with pain.

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” I said, a rush of relief flooding me. It didn’t sound as though he were at death’s door.

“I need to tell you.” Magnus swallowed, then continued, “I’m sorry about how I was on the ship.”

I didn’t know what to say. To busy myself, I took one of our waterskins and poured a cup.

“I only wanted things to be normal between us.” He shifted, wincing, and this time I helped him slowly sit up. His body was warm against me. “The last time we saw each other, I…said things I shouldn’t have. I miss you, Howel.” He smiled wearily. “It’s such hell not being able to joke with you.” I’d missed joking with him, too. “Friends?” he asked.

I did not speak as I gave him the water and he drank. Finally, I said, “I want to be. But…” I bit my lip and forged ahead. “I want nothing more than friendship. Truly.” I meant it: there was Rook, after all, and even without him any desire I’d felt for Magnus was still tainted by what had happened. He nodded solemnly.

“On my word, I’ll never speak to you of anything more ever again. We’ll have a real fresh start this time.”

He was all openness and sincerity, and damn it, I’d missed that.

I sighed in relief. “Well, I suppose it would be wrong to say no to the person who shoved me out of harm’s way.”

His face lit up.

“Indeed. Rather heroic of me, wouldn’t you say? And I’ve received such a flattering wound.” He groaned as he moved his bandaged arm. “I appear to have got my shirt off at some point. That poor girl must have been on the verge of swooning.”

Speaking of, Blackwood’s and the girl’s voices rose and fell above us. I made Magnus take another sip of water.

“Well, I shouldn’t have been so cold to you at the dock. I was shocked to see you,” I said quietly. “Then you were the same Magnus as before.”

“The same,” he repeated. His mouth lifted in a weak attempt at a smile. “I know you see me as the laughing fool.” He winced. “I’m more than some fellow who flirts with every pretty girl, you know.” I’d never seen him so serious.

Who knew what he’d seen in the two months since we parted?

“I know,” I said. Magnus stretched out on the floor, gingerly putting a hand behind his head.

“Rocks make an excellent pillow,” he said. I laughed harder than I meant to.

Blackwood stepped into the cavern and unceremoniously dropped a satchel beside Magnus.

“Supper,” Blackwood said, giving what could charitably be called a scowl.

Magnus cracked open one eye and patted the earth beside us. “Come nurse me, Blacky. I require your healing touch.”

Blackwood squared his jaw. Apparently he wasn’t nearly as sentimental about Magnus’s brush with death as I. “We can’t light a fire, but there’s some dried meat.” He handed me a strip of it. “Everything all right?” He looked grim, as if something desperate and scandalous might have been going on. Honestly.

“I think I might get some air. You can play nursemaid,” I said. With that, I went for the entrance while he crouched next to Magnus.

“Will you lovingly feed me from your own hand?” Magnus sighed. Blackwood muttered something as I crawled out of the cavern, barking a curse as my head struck the ceiling. My eyes watered from the pain as I made it outside, and I looked down in dismay. The front of my dress was filthy, and my hands were cracked with dried blood. I should have brought that waterskin with me. Dusting my skirt the best I could, I spied the trousered girl and walked over to her. She sat atop one of the stones, looking out at the horizon. The mist had burned almost completely away by now, and the brilliant orange and violet of the sunset was glorious. I paused, unsure what I could say to this girl. Thank you, obviously, but what else? She’d a look of intense concentration on her face.

“Come along.” She gestured me over. I smoothed my skirt and sat down on a rock beside her, shuffling to get comfortable. She noticed, and grinned in amusement. “Best eat that.” She nodded to the food in my hand. “Never know when you’ll need your strength.”

My stomach growled in agreement. I tore into the dried meat, wincing at the salty taste. A few days ago I’d been eating gingerbread in a parlor. My, how things change. I didn’t want to become some pampered idiot, so I made an approving noise. “It’s good,” I said.

The girl laughed, picked up her ax, and started cleaning it with a cloth. She regarded her weapon with a loving expression. Her eyes were a soft brown—unusual color for such bright red hair. There was something in her gaze that felt familiar, though I couldn’t place it.

“I’m Henrietta Howel,” I said, pounding my chest to make the food go down. “We’re—”

“Sorcerers. You’ve the magic sticks.” She held up her ax and studied it. “Maria Templeton.” She offered her hand to shake, and I took it. Her grip was firm, her skin rough.

“Miss Templeton,” I said, which made her laugh heartily. She shook her head, sending her beautiful curls tumbling.