“So, you met Stielbek.”
Tihla squinted at the livid vertical bruise on Shamil’s bared chest, lips pursed in consideration as she poked a finger to the purple flesh, provoking a shudder of suppressed pain. “Little bit harder and he’d have shattered your sternum. Must’ve caught him in a good mood.”
“If you don’t mind,” Rignar said with polite but firm insistence, causing the Second Wing to move aside. “This won’t hurt,” the mage told Shamil, holding a stone close to his bruise. The stone was smooth and deep red in colour, its hue starting to shift as Rignar channeled its power, flecks of blue light flaring to life in its facets. “Carnelian always works best for bruises.”
Shamil’s pain faded with sufficient suddenness to bring a surprised gasp to his lips, the bruise quickly losing its dar
