Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis

liability.
    She moved automatically as she thought, taking Cilla’s boot and widening the opening, then taking her toes to guide them back in. Cilla pulled her foot away and tried that same smile again. Tentative. It lit up her face regardless. Amara wished she didn’t notice those things.
    â€œYou don’t have to,” Cilla said.
    â€œI do.” Amara kept her gestures direct. “Can you run?”
    Experimentally, Cilla leaned on her still-bare foot. Her eyebrows pulled together. “I doubt it. What I mean is, I’d appreciate it if you weren’t so—if you could act normally around me.”
    â€œThis isn’t the time.” Amara shouldn’t talk to the princess like that. Ever. But surviving took priority. She stood and looked out the window. In the distance, a gust of wind spiraled around Jorn, then swept out and knocked down both mages. The Elig rolled over and clasped a pale, blood-smeared hand with the other mage. The air around them glimmered.
    Amara had meant to simply assess the situation but found herself drinking in the sight. The only time she could see magic was like this, when it was raw and fleeting. Once a mage used a spell to bond that magic to something physical, an object or a person, it became invisible to non-mages.
    And to Amara.
    It was said that spirits favored some people, and that made them mages; that the spirits favored some mages in particular, watching over their health without even making them pay the price of backlash. The thought of Amara being favored made her smile wryly. Not favored enough, apparently, if she couldn’t even detect other mages’ spells, let alone cast her own. All she could do was wait out her healing.
    Maybe she was simply doing magic wrong. It was hard to tell, when no one would explain how to do it
right
.
    Jorn turned to run toward the carecenter. Amara watched the glossy magic of the Elig mage’s shield, and his upheld arm, which even from this distance she could see was shaking with exertion. Spirits provided the raw energy. Mages were responsible for the rest.
    Amara’s knowledge of the process started and ended there. She wondered what it felt like.
    Cilla’s arm brushed past hers and snapped her from her thoughts. “Amara?”
    Amara made a questioning sound.
    â€œDo you hate me?” Cilla spoke with an oddly clear voice for such a loaded question.
    Amara shook her head automatically. “Of course not.” Jorn was coming up the stairs. Dull bricks muted his footsteps. They shouldn’t be talking about this now. Or ever.
    â€œYou’ve saved my life so often. I owe you.”
    â€œMay I speak honestly?” Amara’s signs came awkwardly. Cilla leaned on her shoulder as they moved away from the window and the display of magic. Cilla had put her boot back on but still walked slowly.
    â€œYes! That’s what I’m trying to say.”
    Amara darted another glance outside but couldn’t see anything. “It’s not that simple. You’re the princess. You
can’t
owe me.”
    â€œI …”
    Cilla’s voice and Amara’s hands dropped the second Jorn came into sight. He didn’t even look tired. “You should’ve been gone by now.”
    Amara gestured at the way Cilla favored her foot; she couldn’t run like this. Did they still need to? Amara had no place asking those questions.
    Cilla, on the other hand— “Are we safe?”
    â€œNo,” Jorn snapped, then checked himself. He smiled thinly. “Apologies, Princess. No. Dissolving the mage’s shield would have cost too much time. Others might be coming.” Only now did Amara notice the red stains spreading across his topscarf. Small. She’d expected worse. At least Jorn focused on Cilla, not Amara. He didn’t know about the blackouts. When he did find out—
    She couldn’t let that happen. If the blackouts were another ability the spirits had