Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo (z-lib.org).mobi

“So I’m the Darkling’s prisoner?”
“You’re under his protection.”
“What’s the difference?”
Ivan’s expression was unreadable. “Pray you never find out.”
I scowled and slumped back on the cushioned seat, then hissed in pain. I’d
forgotten my wounds.
“See to her,” Ivan said to the female Corporalnik. Her cuffs were embroidered
in Healer’s grey.
The woman switched places with one of the oprichniki so that she could sit
beside me.
A soldier ducked his head inside the door. “We’re ready,” he said.
“Good,” replied Ivan. “Stay alert and keep moving.”
“We’ll only stop to change horses. If we stop before then, you’ll know
something is wrong.”
The soldier disappeared, closing the door behind him. The driver didn’t
hesitate. With a cry and the snap of a whip, the coach lurched forward. I felt an
icy tumble of panic. What was happening to me? I thought about just throwing
open the coach door and making a run for it. But where would I run? We were
surrounded by armed men in the middle of a military camp. And even if we
weren’t, where could I possibly go?
“Please remove your coat,” said the woman beside me.
“What?”
“I need to see to your wounds.”
I considered refusing, but what was the point? I shrugged awkwardly out of
my coat and let the Healer ease my shirt over my shoulders. The Corporalki
were the order of the Living and the Dead. I tried to focus on the living part, but
I’d never been healed by a Grisha and every muscle in my body tensed with fear.
She took something out of a little satchel and a sharp chemical scent filled the
coach. I flinched as she cleaned the wounds, my fingers digging into my knees.
When she had finished, I felt a hot, prickling sensation between my shoulders. I
bit down hard on my lip. The urge to scratch my back was almost unbearable.
Finally, she stopped and pulled my shirt back into place. I flexed my shoulders
carefully. The pain was gone.
“Now the arm,” she said.
I’d almost forgotten the cut from the Darkling’s knife, but my wrist and hand
were sticky with blood. She wiped the cut clean and then held my arm up to the
light. “Try to stay still,” she said, “or there will be a scar.”
I did my best, but the jostling of the coach made it difficult. The Healer passed
her hand slowly over the wound. I felt my skin throb with heat. My arm began to