17. The Hunter
After ensuring Derek had the children securely hidden, I hauled Eira into my arms, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. I didn’t know how the strange enchantment around her injury had broken, but if I didn’t do something quickly, she would die.
I couldn’t let that happen. Every part of my body cried out for her, begging for me to save her. To keep her alive.
She had to live. She had to.
Logically, it didn’t make sense. I had only known her for a few days, and we had no reason to trust one another.
And yet, all I could think of was how she had sprinted into the path of that sword to save a child she didn’t even know.
She will not die. I won’t allow it.
There was one place I could take her, but it was risky. The healer who usually tended to my injuries lived in the village, and she was much more discreet than the healers at the palace. However, she was still very loyal to the queen. If Calista had gotten to her first, or if the healer recognized Eira, we were doomed.
But I had no other choice.
Shouts echoed in the street as I crept out the back door, using alleys I knew well to avoid the main road. Either the forest animals had retreated, or the soldiers had killed them. Despite how much they irked me, I hoped Mauro and Frisk and the others had gotten away. What they’d done was a great risk, but it had saved us. We wouldn’t have been able to escape or get the children to safety without them.
“Hang in there, princess,” I whispered, trying to keep her awake. Her pallor had taken on a grayish hue, and her eyes rolled back. Each inhale was ragged, but at least she was still breathing.
Taking the back roads meant more twists and turns, more jostling that elicited a whimper of pain from Eira. But I could move more quickly. Fewer people traversed these roads, and those who did tended to mind their own business.
Eira was strong. She would make it. She had to.
At long last, I arrived at the healer’s doorstep and pounded relentlessly on the door. Dusk had fallen, and most of the village was silent with the curfew. My frantic knocking echoed along the street, but I kept it up until the door finally swung open.
A white-haired fae opened the door, her sleepy dark eyes narrowed at my haggard appearance. She glanced up and down the street in curiosity. “What the hell are you doing here, Thorne? Don’t you know the place is swarming with soldiers?”
“Heal her,” I ordered through clenched teeth. “Please. I’ll pay any price.”
Only then did she seem to notice the princess draped in my arms. Her eyes widened and she stood back to let me in. I hurried inside without another word.
The healer, Lavinia, closed the door behind her and crossed her arms. “What is this, Thorne? I won’t harbor any fugitives.”
“Just heal her and we’ll be on our way. I beg of you.”
She dropped her arms, her jaw slack with surprise. “Blood and ice, I’ve never seen you like this before. Who is this girl?” She squinted, scrutinizing the princess.
“She’s my—my—” I fumbled for the words before I finally said, “We are bound. Her life is tethered to mine. I have to save her. Please.”
Lavinia sighed and nodded. “Bring her to the table.” She strode toward the back of the house, and I followed. With quick work, she cleared the kitchen table, and I laid Eira’s prone form atop it. When Lavinia peeled open the blood-soaked tunic to inspect the gash, she hissed out a long breath. Then she mumbled something unintelligible and ran her fingertip along the jagged edge of the wound. Slowly, she looked up at me, her eyes full of accusation.
“What happened to her?”
“A soldier struck her,” I said.
“That’s not all. This mark is infused with fae magic. What happened?”
I said nothing because I wasn’t even sure myself. What had happened? I’d seen Eira get stabbed, and something in me had exploded. I’d felt my fae magic roar to life and spear forward, desperate to save her. But I couldn’t explain what it was or how it had happened.
I had willed her to stay alive… and she had.
“I can’t heal it if I don’t know the extent of the injury,” Lavinia went on, her tone sharpening. “Tell me, Thorne.”
“I—I don’t know what happened. I used my magic, but I’ve never done anything like that before.” Quickly, I explained to her as best I could how I’d thrust my power toward Eira in order to save her.
Lavinia rubbed her chin in contemplation, then dropped her gaze to my hands. “What color was the magic?”
“Blue. Light blue.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she hurried over to the kitchen cabinets, digging through drawers until she withdrew a long chain with a pale blue crystal dangling on the end. “Like this?”
I frowned. The gem was the exact shade my hands had been. “Yes. What is that?”
“Larimar. It’s used for necromancy.”
I blanched. “What? You’ve been practicing necromancy?”
“Oh, hush. I only use it to enhance my powers, particularly when a patient teeters between life and death.” She gave me a long, knowing look. “You, my friend, are a life weaver.”
“A what?” I shook my head. She had to be mistaken. “No. I don’t have fae magic. All I can do is glamour.”
“Well, that’s not true at all, based on what you told me. Your magic is necromancy.”
“I did not perform necromancy,” I growled. “I didn’t raise anyone from the dead. She was still alive!”
Lavinia only shook her head with a sly smile on her face. My anger and impatience took over, and I gestured wildly to Eira, still lying prone on the table. “Can you heal her, please? She doesn’t have much time left.”
“Well, you could easily just bring her back to life, with magic like that.” But Lavinia obliged, returning to the table and raising her hands in the air. Purple magic ignited on her fingertips as she pressed them against Eira’s wound. The princess jerked violently, her face crumpling in pain, but I took that as a good sign—it meant she wasn’t as close to death’s door as I’d feared.
I drew closer, but Lavinia snapped, “Back up, boy. I need space to work.”
I grumbled a curse before turning away to let her work her spells. Hovering wouldn’t help, and watching Eira twitch and cringe as Lavinia worked on her would do me no favors, either. Reluctantly, I withdrew from the room, forcing myself to inspect the strange specimens floating in jars on the shelves in the kitchen. I tried to ignore the moans and cries coming from the table. I knew firsthand that Lavinia’s particular brand of magic hurt like hell, but it was the most effective healing I’d ever endured. Except for maybe that of the pixies.
After what felt like an eternity, Lavinia emerged from the kitchen, wiping her bloody hands on a cloth. “It’s done. She’ll live.”
Relief filled my chest, and I sagged against the wall. I hadn’t realized until that moment how exhausted I was.
“Rest.” Lavinia pointed to the sitting room behind me where a couch rested against the wall.
I shook my head. “No, you need to tell me more about this necromantic magic you mentioned.”
Lavinia smirked. “Ah, yes. You necromancers must be careful with the power you wield. You seem rather fond of this girl, hmm?” She gestured to the kitchen behind her. “Be careful not to kiss her, boy. It is said necromancers possess the kiss of death.”
I gaped at her, horrified.
She laughed and waved a hand. “Oh, calm down, I’m only kidding. Unless you channel your power into the kiss, it’s harmless.”
“How can you be so sure my magic is necromancy at all? And why hasn’t this magic shown itself before now?”
“My guess is you weren’t under enough duress for it to come to life. Necromancy is powerful, but it’s bloody difficult to awaken. Many necromancers spend their entire lives trying to activate their magic with no success. Some could only activate their powers if they bound their magic to an enchanted object.”
I frowned. “An enchanted object?”
“Yes. With the right spell, you can link your magical essence to an object imbued with power. It enhances an ability, but it”s risky; once cast, the spell empowers this object, creating a sort of conduit for your magic. If anyone were to acquire this conduit, they could destroy it and potentially disrupt the connection to your magic completely.” She paused, then eyed me shrewdly. “But I have a feeling you won’t need to resort to such methods.” Her gaze dipped to my belt of knives, which I usually glamoured. But my magic was depleted, and my mind was only on Eira. At the moment, I was too tired to care.
“You’re a hunter,” she said.
“Yes.”
“It’s easy for you to take a life, yes?”
I hesitated. “I’m very good at what I do.”
She snorted. “I’m sure you are.” She rubbed her chin again. “Now that is interesting.”
“What?”
“Perhaps your necromancy has already manifested itself. In your work.” She said the word with a knowing smirk, as if she knew exactly the kind of work I did.
I stared at her. “Necromancy has nothing to do with my work.”
“It has everything to do with it, you foolish boy. Necromancy isn’t just the art of raising the dead. It is the art of a life weaver. A necromancer holds the threads of life in their hands, whether it’s to preserve a life or to end it.”
I shook my head. “My hands have never glowed like that before.”
“The glow is only an indication of a powerful manifestation of the ability. It can still be demonstrated in other ways, though. Tell me, when you have the intent to kill, do you ever fail?”
I swallowed, not wanting to answer. My anonymity was a precious thing, especially right now when the queen wanted my head.
Lavinia’s eyes glinted. “Well, if you were a hunter who never missed their mark, I would speculate the magic is assisting you.”
I opened my mouth, prepared to argue that perhaps I was just a skilled hunter, when I faltered. In all my years of training in weapons and combat, my aim had always struck true. Even in my early years when I was a beginner, I had thrived, attributing it to my natural knack for hunting.
But perhaps there was another power at play, one I had never realized was there before.
A cold, sickening dread filled my chest as the pieces finally connected in my mind.
“This new power could change the future of our court,” Lavinia said with a hungry gleam in her eyes. “The queen could do great wonders with a gift like yours.”
The sickening feeling only intensified until I had to brace my hand on the wall to keep from fainting. “She already knows.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows rose. “How? You only just found out yourself.”
My eyes closed against the dizziness that threatened to consume me. It all made sense now. Why else would Calista elevate my father, a man with no rank or status, to the position of Commander? Why else was she so determined to keep me in her service?
And why, when I was intent on leaving my employ, did she give me an impossible task, knowing I would fail?
She knew. My father must have had the same power, and she sought it in me as well. And she couldn’t bear the thought of me using my powers elsewhere. So instead of releasing me from my contract, she doomed me with one final assignment. One that would either get me killed or mark me as an enemy to the crown.
Because if she couldn’t utilize my powers… then she would ensure no one else could.