Page 150 of Of Iron and Moonlight

As his vision cleared, Gavriel watched those hands move over him. Gentle. Intent. Leaving a faint prickling trace in their wake.

“Well,” Gavriel murmured, voice ragged but faintly amused, “it seems death is not so bad after all.” He tried to lift his head from what felt suspiciously like a cloud and squinted at the room. “Though I will say, the scenery is a touch underwhelming, good sir.”

The Dark Brother froze and blinked at him, caught between concern and confusion, as though unsure whether the joke signaled awareness or delirium.

“Thank the moons,” a soft voice breathed from Gavriel’s other side. Fabric rustled. Quick steps. Two small hands closed around his.

The feel of skin on his skin sent a jolt through him. Nausea surged. He shot upright and jerked away almost violently. Pain flashed down his spine and his vision blurred.

“Easy,” the Tsuchitsan Dark Brother murmured, pressing a cautious palm to his chest and guiding him back down. “No sudden movements.”

Hurt flashed across Elara’s face. She started to reach for him again, then stopped and folded her hands instead, settling lightly at his side. “Kalaetzu is healing your bones,” she explained, voice low and controlled. “Many are broken.”

“I am doing what I can,” Kalaetzu muttered, bending over Gavriel’s ribs. “I was never gifted in this. Give me plants and flame and I am content. Flesh and bones are less obedient.”

So Gavriel was not dead, and this was not the Dark Brother.

He turned his head slowly, absorbing the dull knowledge that he was still alive, and forced the room into focus. Stone walls darkened by age. Beams bowed by long winters. A dead hearth. A guttering lamp in the corner. Packs strewn open nearby.

“Where am I?” he asked, the words breaking into a cough and flashes of memory. Pain. Silver cuffs. Iron bars. Hunger.

“An abandoned outpost in the Niverna Mountains,” Elara said. She was shivering despite the cloak around her shoulders. “We freed you from the prison days ago. A storm swept through not long after. We’ve been trapped here by the snow ever since.”

“Fortunate,” Kalaetzu said without looking up. The strange prickle followed his hands down Gavriel’s shin. “It covered our trail and gave me time to recover enough strength for this.” He shook his head softly as he worked. “They gave you too many healing draughts in captivity. Your body no longer responds well to them.”

“We gave you something for the pain. And to restore the blood you lost,” Elara added. “That stabilized you. The rest…” She swallowed. “That required Hanura’s gift.”

Gavriel exhaled. The breath scraped his ribs, but it felt cleaner than any he had drawn in the cell. Sensation returned to his legs in waves of heat and ache. He let his head rest back against the bundled cloak beneath him. Not a cloud after all.

Freedom should have felt lighter.

He was uncertain whether living was a mercy or a weight he could no longer bear.

“The storm is almost over,” came a deep, familiar voice. Njall’s voice.

Gavriel shut his eyes, not ready to face the friend he had deceived.

A low grunt followed. “We cannot stay much longer. When will he be ready to move?”

“His bones are nearly mended,” Kalaetzu replied, lifting his hands briefly to study them. “But he has lost too much muscle. He will not move as he once did.”

“Can we not stay another day?” Elara asked quietly. “He can barely lift his head.”

“They will send a search when the sky clears.”

“If I cannot walk,” Gavriel rasped, “how did I—”

“Njall carried you,” Elara said, her voice trembling.

The words tightened something in Gavriel’s throat so sharply he had to clench his jaw to keep from breaking. Still, tears slipped past his shut eyes. Gratitude and guilt collided until he could barely breathe. “Thank you,” he managed.

Perhaps one did not need faith at all.

Not when people like this could remind him who he had once hoped to be.

He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “Njall is right. We should leave. I will manage.”

“Let us try sitting first,” Kalaetzu said gently.