Two
Jamon’s eyes move from the arrow in the guard’s chest up to my face. “You … you shot him.”
I shot him.
I uncurl my fingers from the sparkling bow, and it disappears. “Of course,” I say, sounding a lot calmer than I feel. “What was I supposed to do? Let him kill you?”
Jamon frowns. “I could have taken him out on my own.”
“I doubt it. Before I shot him, it looked like he was about to take you out.”
Jamon eyes the fallen faerie. “Is he dead? I know it’s supposed to be difficult to kill your kind.”
His words trouble me, but I try not to show it. “If you leave the arrow in, the magic will eventually fade from his body and he’ll die. But if you remove it within the next hour or so, his magic will heal his heart and he’ll be fine.” How do I know that? I ask myself. I just do, it seems.
