Bane of the Wild Hunt (Heart of the Tithriall #2)

25. WITHIN MY CONTROL

Chapter twenty-five

WITHIN MY CONTROL

Rian

I knelt to deposit Nuala slowly into the water that smelled of Ichor of Airmid leaves, and she hissed and shook when the medicine stung her raw flesh. The basin darkened around her instantly, and I knew I would have to change it right away. But I tried to remove as much of the straw and grime that was caked all over her as I could first.

That first basin was pure filth when I portalled out to the forest with it to dump it.

I spent a long time lathering her hair with the oil I used to scrub blood off my hands after battle and then dumped fresh water over her. It made it easier to remove the last of the debris. That was when I realized that the streaks of red in her hair were not fresh blood but her natural colour. Such an unusual feature, much like her mismatching eyes, and I found it was uniquely beautiful.

I tried not to focus on the pitiful body under my hands that was crooked in places with scars layered over scars and protruding bones, but I was still thorough with her. She had entrusted herself to me, and I took that seriously. So I was gentle and warned her before touching anywhere that was particularly intimate or especially disfigured but did not shy away from any part of her. I was attuned to her every breath and flinch to ensure that she was still comfortable and not in too much pain while I worked.

I changed the water many times before it stayed clean when I dumped a pitcher over her. Only then did I dismiss my reeking armour which would be cleansed magically upon its return to its metaphysical home. Then I retrieved my scented soap to lather Nuala again, this time warming my hands with my magic to make every touch even more pleasant and relaxing. I dug my thumbs into her muscles and massaged my fingertips against her scalp until she melted and tilted her head back against my chest. Her hair soaked my cotton shirt, but I didn’t protest as I used both thumbs to knead her temples, sweeping across her brows, down her forehead, and under both eyes. I tried to hit all the pressure points in her face and neck to release stored tension while avoiding cuts and bruises.

“Your hands are so kind,” she breathed, the first words spoken between us in over an hour. “Like magic.”

“Tell me if I hurt you,” I told her as I began to press a little harder between her brows and over her sinuses.

“I am stronger than I look,” she murmured even as she winced from the pain of pressure being relieved.

“That you are,” I could not deny that. “But I am fey. Your skin and bones are as fragile as eggshells to me.”

“And yet this is the most gentle touch I’ve ever felt,” she maintained, and I could not speak for a moment.

“The people who did this to you are going to suffer.”

Nuala’s brows puckered, and she swallowed thickly with emotion, but she did not cry.

“They did it because they hated me. I frightened them and took away their power. I will not feel sad about that. To feel sad would be like letting them win. But I do want them to suffer. I want them to scream until their throats are raw. I want them to wish for death. To beg for it.”

I had hesitated in my ministrations to listen and now tipped her head forward. One finger under her chin turned her head in my direction to meet her one-eyed gaze.

“I take care of what is mine, and you have committed yourself to me. So their screams and pleas will be yours. You will taste their futile tears and wear their broken bones for a crown. That is a promise, my little Seer.”

She was clean and relaxed, and she seemed to be feeling stronger. Perhaps the pain medication had simply kicked in more fully, but she was able to stand on her own after I’d lifted her upright to dry her.

Once her bony body had been towelled off, I lifted her out of the basin for the last time and carried her over to the plush bench in front of my vanity and mirror. I was sure to set her down facing away from her reflection and then tugged a tapestry off the wall to drape over the frame containing the mirror.

I stood behind her and spent a moment squeezing the towel through her hair and rubbing it over her head. I had oiled and conditioned her so thoroughly during her bath that my comb passed through her hair easily.

I almost asked her if it was alright to cut it but bit back the inquiry. She had said she did not want to have to make any choices so I would make them for her until she felt like she could take back her autonomy.

“I am going to cut your hair. Much of it is dead, and it will do the rest of it good,” I advised her instead.

“Do as you wish,” she agreed, her eyes closed and her head tilted back, completely lulled by the comb.

I found my scissors in the vanity behind me and began to examine her long, black-and-red hair. It was down to the middle of her back where it grew choppy and thin. After a few moments, I’d found where the length of it was mostly healthy and chopped it just below her shoulders. Watching the strands fall to the floor hurt my heart. I had been growing my own hair for a long time, and Aodhan always kept his hair long because he knew I preferred it.

I retrieved the white-and-blue dress Darragh had brought for her and found it was a pretty silk and linen gown with long, loose sleeves. The front was low cut with a high slit in the side, but I knew from experience it was conservative for Feurin culture. I usually loved their style, loved the casual glimpses of brown skin, but I already knew I would be dressing her differently in the future.

I brought it over to Nuala who reached out to touch the material before I could lift it over her head. I let her press her crooked, unbending fingers against the dress, and her mouth parted around an inhale. Her face was too swollen to know for sure, but I was sure she was pleased.

“It is so soft and smooth,” she murmured.

“When you are feeling better, I will take you into the city and shop for you, but it will suffice for now,” I said.

The flowy dress hung quite loose over her bony figure, but she already looked like a different creature than the one I’d brought into the tent. Not only was she clean and dressed nicely, but there was life in her again.

“You look lovely,” Carrick said as he stood up straight when I stepped through the curtains with the little witch in my arms. I was relieved to see he had been setting out plates on the short table in front of my lounging couch.

Nuala’s brows rose at the compliment, her cracked lips pressing together before she looked to me for guidance.

“You can trust Carrick. He will not hurt you or abuse any of the rules. He is kind and safe,” I reassured her.

Nuala looked relieved, and I felt her exhale before she gave a nod to Carrick in thankful acknowledgment.

I could feel my uncle looking at me in suspicion, but I did not meet his gaze as I carried Nuala over to the couch. He would not understand my methods, but she trusted me, just as he’d said, so I would handle Nuala and her trauma the way that was best for us both.

I deposited my Seer on the couch and sat next to her. Carrick attempted to hand her a plate of food, but I took it first and then set it in her lap for her. I could feel his eyes burning into me knowingly, and I knew a lecture would be coming, but I focused on Nuala as she began to eat.

“Your stomach will require some time to adjust to food again so just go slow,” I advised her, and she nodded.

Carrick set a jug of water in front of her, but she did not touch it until I handed it to her to wash down the mouthful of food she had chewed carefully. Too carefully. I realized that her mouth was probably in the same shape as the rest of her body.

“Teeth,” I demanded, demonstrating what I wanted by lifting my own lips at her to expose my canines.

Nuala complied without question, allowing me to look into her mouth. Many of her teeth were missing, I had no doubt they had been knocked out from the blows that had bruised and scarred the rest of her face. Others were black and her gums were already bleeding from chewing.

She needed to be healed as soon as possible.

I need an update, I advised Ciaran mentally as I moved the softer food from my plate onto Nuala’s and scooped all of her harder food onto mine.

“You will tell me if anything hurts, even when it is something I have asked you to do,” I told her, and the witch nodded in agreement.

Aes Suri is completely destroyed. We were ambushed, Ciaran advised me. He sent me a quick mental recap of his memory of the battle including a glimpse of a Fuath mage, the ward, Ornella, and Sage being injured.

The dryad was terribly weak after depleting her magic, so healing Nuala would have to wait until she recovered, but I knew I still needed to recall all my riders. I was uneasy about confronting Sage, and I did not wish to be more indebted to the female who killed Aodhan by asking her to heal my Seer, but Carrick was right. I needed to consolidate the Wild Hunt and bring us back into order.

But there was no doubt I was beholden to Ornella.

I did not want to consider what would have happened if she had not been taken captive by the Wild Hunt and been in Aes Suri to help defend the village. Nor did I wish to dwell on how many more villages might have been lost to the Fuath while we were across the continent.

And it was not just the aes sídhe indebted to Ornella.

The entirety of the Four Courts owed her everything for risking her life to protect my family, because if I had killed them last night, there would have been no recourse. There would have been nothing to prevent me from truly plunging into hopeless desolation. The Rot would spread, and the Four Courts would surely collapse.

So I simply could not allow my personal anguish for one person to interfere with my duty to protect Ahnnaòin. Besides, although Aodhan would have obviously still been furious, I had a feeling he would not want her dead if I could somehow tell him now who she was. He would want me to support her when their people inevitably came to collect her for the infamous Díothú Mór.

Bring them to me tonight , I told Ciaran and felt him balk under the command because he sensed what it meant. He did not like or remotely trust the female dryad which was not surprising; Ciaran did not like anything that he did not totally understand. He was afraid of her power, afraid of her ability to counter me, but he had felt exactly the same about Aodhan, and they still became close.

“Better?” I asked Nuala, refocusing my attention on my little Seer who had almost finished her plate.

“My stomach is full,” she admitted, resting a twisted hand over her tummy, and I nodded.

“Good girl. Thank Carrick. He is the one who got you the food,” I advised her.

Nuala was not used to thanking anyone, I could tell by the tension that crept into her shoulders when she looked up at Carrick across the table from us.

“Thank you for the food,” she said softly.

“Of course,” he reassured her with all due gentleness, but there was an unmistakable disapproval in his eyes as soon as he looked back at me.

“You need sleep. I’ll make you a draught that will help make it deep and dreamless,” I told Nuala who inclined her head in agreement.

I left her sitting on the couch and walked around the table to the kettle hanging on a spit over the fire. A brush of my fingers alit with fire magic had the copper pot boiling almost instantly. I retrieved Aodhan’s sleeping draught and a cup to brew tea for Nuala. All the while, feeling both her eyes and Carrick’s on me as I worked.

“I know you are full, but this will help you,” I told her once I had returned to her side with the hot cup of tea.

“It will make you sleep deeply , Nuala. It is a drug,” Carrick could not help informing her because he firmly believed in full and informed consent.

But Nuala looked at me for my thoughts. And perhaps it made me a horrible monster, considering what had been done to her, but there was no denying a spark of pleasure that her deference and trust ignited in me.

“It is alright. I will stay right here in the tent while you are sleeping,” I reassured her, and that was all she needed to hear before she began to sip the tea.

“There were matters which Darragh insisted required your attention,” Carrick reminded me.

“I remember,” I reassured him, still watching Nuala sip the hot draught as quickly as she could. It was entirely possible she was already exhausted, especially with a belly full of food, but she faded fast.

She finished the tea, and I set the cup aside for her just as she started to tip sideways, her head lolling against my shoulder. I scooped her up again and carried her back into the bedchamber, single-handedly stripping the top sheet that she had first laid down on off the bed and burning it with my magic. Then I deposited her on the mattress, making sure her dress was not knotted around her legs or bunched underneath her. I unearthed a blanket that my mother had made me from the trunk at the foot of the bed and spread it over the witch. It was far too hot for me to sleep under in the warmer climate, but she was so thin that I knew it would be comfortable for her.

I did not want to think too much about it; to think too much would be dangerous. But I could not help hesitating as my thumb ran over the stitches my mother had lovingly knitted with me in mind. I could still see her at the fire, cross-legged and surrounded by a myriad of freshly dyed wool balls. Her needles would frantically click together, and her laughter was loud and unbridled. She was so full of joy before my father died that I would sometimes be compelled to stop and just watch her.

I closed my eyes, savouring the warmth of the memory before it threatened to turn vicious and rip me open with its anguish, and then I pushed it back down into the void.

I dropped the corner of my mother’s knitted blanket and turned away from Nuala, striding into the main room where Carrick was waiting for me with a frown.

“She will sleep all night. I promised to stay in the tent with her, so I will need to bring the scouts here to meet. Are you still planning to stay?” I asked him.

“She is not a toy, Rian,” he said, sounding so terribly disappointed in me that it actually stung a little.

I abruptly decided I didn’t care if he saw my drinking and turned to stride over to the table in the corner and the last of my wine.

“I am not sure what you mean to insinuate,” I said, uncorking one of the bottles. The gods knew whether any of my crystal had survived my temper before I departed for the Winter Court, so I opted to forgo a glass. The mere taste of the wine was a balm, but I knew from experience it would require a couple bottles to achieve numbness.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You think Sage never told me about these… relationships you—”

“This was her choice , Carrick. You said she might not make good decisions, but I should let her in the interests of giving her some sense of safety,” I reminded him.

“This is not what I meant—” he began.

“But this is how she feels safe, and just because it is not what you feel she needs, nor can you understand it, does not make it wrong. I know how it feels not to want to make decisions when you are exhausted and do not trust yourself. I know that it can be freeing to choose someone in whom to place your trust and allow them to be your buffer and your compass.”

He did not like it, I could tell as he began to turn away from me, mouth tight as he shook his head. But then he grudgingly began to consider my words a moment while I tossed back a few more gulps out of the bottle.

“She is very vulnerable and suggestible,” he insisted.

“Agreed. My intention remains to help her get healthy. And it was her request,” I reminded him. “I asked what she wanted, and she said she didn’t want to have to make any decisions. So why can I not make them for her until she is ready to be autonomous?” I asked him.

“You are sure this is not about you?” he verified, and I gaped in feigned offense. “ Rian ,” he growled seriously.

“I have meetings,” I attempted to dismiss him.

“Is she a distraction?” he demanded firmly.

“Yes, Carrick!” I shouted suddenly, the rage igniting in an alarming rush that consumed my entire body in a white-hot heat. “Yes, she is a distraction. Yes, she is something to focus on that is in my control that I might actually be able to help. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Oh, Rian,” he sighed, his anger fading instantly.

“I do not want to talk about this anymore. I am done, Carrick, do you understand? No more about it now!”

To his credit, my uncle knew when he had pushed me far enough. He simply nodded in understanding and then picked up a box of puzzles that he seemed to have rooted out of a trunk earlier.

“I will sit with her while you conduct your meetings,” he advised me, and then took the box into the chamber. Leaving me with a confusing medley of guilt and shame for getting upset and for what I’d revealed. I was used to feeling disgust in myself, but Carrick’s disapproval was more than I knew how to process.

Bring the scouts to me , I ordered Darragh mentally, because I could not be alone with my thoughts for a moment longer.