Page 5 of ColdIron
What the fuck?
I narrowed my eyes.
Aelindor and Caspian studied him as well, their expressions unreadable. For several long seconds, none of us spoke. Each ran through our own thoughts and theories.
“Feel his pulse,” I told Caspian. “See if he’s alive, wolf.”
“Why don’t you do it?” he countered automatically. He started to crouch down, but as the words left his mouth, he straightened again.
“Children.” Aelindor shook his head with the long-suffering patience of someone who’d dealt with our rivalry for too many years. He crouched by the boy and pressed two long fingers to the side of his neck, just below the jaw. “He’s alive. Pulse is weak.”
“He smells.” Caspian wrinkled his nose.
“I feel his magic,” Aelindor said. His voice took on that distant, focused quality he got when sensing power. “Strong, but stuttering. As if it just learned to talk, raw and untrained.”
He pulled a waterskin from his travel bag, uncorked it, and tipped a few careful drops through the boy’s cracked lips.
The boy didn’t stir. Didn’t swallow. The water sat on his lips a moment before slowly disappearing into the cracks.
“How old?” I asked.
“Hard to say with humans.” Aelindor tilted his head. “Seventeen to twenty-two. He hasn’t finished his growth spurt yet. Impossible to tell if he’s immortal orwill be. The magic in his blood hasn’t triggered a transformation.”
Caspian frowned, the kind that said this bothered him more than he wanted to admit. “I can’t scent his species. It’s all muddled. Human, but not quite.”
“If I took a bite, I could probably tell you what’s in his blood.”
“No,” Aelindor said sharply.
Caspian shot me a disgusted look, which would’ve been more effective if he weren’t a predator himself.
“Not for my benefit,” I growled, genuinely offended. “For information.”
“We’re taking him with us.” Aelindor’s tone allowed no argument. “We’ll learn more about him at the fortress. We have people for this.”
I nodded. We’d process this later at home base where we had resources, healers, and truth-seers.
Caspian stared down at the unconscious boy. “So this is what dragged us out of our warm beds?” He gestured at the crumpled figure. “He can’t be the one. Lost heir of two prestigious Zodiac Houses?” A pause. “He looks like a servant, or a miner.”
“I didn’t know you were such a snob, Caspian.”
“I’m not a snob. I’m a realist,” the shifter said exasperatedly, like I was missing something obvious. “Look at him.”
“I am looking at him.” I paused. “There isn’t much to look at.”
“All right.”
Aelindor cut us off before our bullshit could escalate. He turned from the boy and scanned the ScorchedWastes with the wariness of someone who’d survived too many ambushes. We’d put our weapons away, but none of us dropped our guard.
Hostile territory. Dangerous times. The monsters would be stirring soon.
“Between you two,” he said, “who’s going to carry him?”
“Let the wolf do it,” I offered immediately.
“You carry him, bloodsucker.” Instant counter.
I arched a brow. “I’m a bloodsucker as you pointed out. Before we make it a mile, I’d most likely bite him. You want that on your conscience?”
