Lightbringer

Chapter 14 Eres

Eres

“Ihave another question.”

That’s the first time she’s spoken to me this morning.

Aside from a mumbled greeting when she woke with her face buried in my chest, followed by an embarrassed fumble between the two of us as I tried to climb out of one side of the cot and she almost rolled into the wall in her haste to get as far away from me as possible.

I shouldn’t have gotten in. Wasn’t going to, except when I entered the cell after another row with Kaelen that didn’t end well for either of us, I found her crying on the cot with her eyes closed. Her whole body was shaking. In her sleep.

So I climbed in beside her. I only meant to hold her until she settled, blaming it on the Binding, but she wrapped herself around me and didn’t move for the rest of the night.

Meanwhile, I didn’t sleep at all.

I blink away the exhaustion as I look up from retying her bandaged hands. “Ask whatever you need to.”

I’ve realized that she gives little away.

Lyra keeps her face expressionless. But her feelings are there—in the faint crease of her eyes, the small v that appears between her brows, the way her lips twist and quirk, the color that blooms in her cheeks.

“What if I was defending myself, and the outcome was a betrayal of you? Would it have the same ending?”

Brow knotting, I try to follow her reasoning. “In what way?”

She barely blinks. “If Duskbane decides that I’m too much of a threat to be allowed to live. Would a death blow in self-defense trigger the Binding?”

Both of my eyebrows raise. “I’d love to take a look inside your mind. It sounds bloodthirsty.”

Her golden skin darkens, but she shrugs. “I was curious.”

“You don’t need to worry about Kaelen. He won’t hurt you.” Turning away, I pack the jars back into my belt and tie it around my waist. “You ready?”

“For what?”

I nod at the boots positioned at the end of her bed. “You’re with me today. And I have work to do.”

An understatement, after the last few days. I’ve missed far too many hours in the medical wing, and there are patients to see. Lyra follows behind me as I stride up the steps. “What will I be doing?”

“Helping, hopefully.” I look for Kaelen, but he’s nowhere to be found. I know he wouldn’t have left through the night, but it grates that he vanished the moment he heard our footsteps. “Follow me.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She keeps pace beside me as we cross the courtyard.

A few soldiers head past on their way to training with Eldritch, faces turning to gawk in her direction.

Lyra ignores them, her attention focused on me as I push through the main doors and head down the corridor. “About the self-defense.”

“It’s an interesting concept.” If a little concerning. “And my answer is that you don’t need to worry about it. Will you tell me about Lightbringer healers?”

Her feet slow, but then she catches up as I turn the corner. “What about them?”

The large, arched double doors are on my right, and I push them open without knocking. “Anything. I’ve never had the opportunity to see them in person.”

But I’ve heard stories. Stories of knitting together flesh and bone with nothing more than light, of gaping, mortal wounds wiped away to leave clean skin behind.

I raise a hand in silent greeting to Nesra.

My assistant’s eyes travel between me and the Lightbringer I’ve brought with me, widening further with every second, and I give her a warning glance before leading Lyra over to my worktable. “Take a seat.”

But she’s looking at my stores. The wall is covered in jars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in various colors and sizes for easy identification, stored on thick, solid shelves that stretch up to reach the sloping ceiling with a ladder for ease of access.

Most contain herbs and oils to assist the healing of anyone who crosses my door.

Some of them are more precious than others, given Umbraxis’s limited resources.

Lyra’s eyes linger on the jar that I added last night, and I curse myself silently for not putting it elsewhere, beyond her sight.

“Where did you get those? Iskra leaves are native to Solvandyr.”

I don’t say anything at first. When Lyra leans forward, her hand reaching for the jar, I move faster. She doesn’t flinch as my hand wraps around her wrist. Only looks at me with her fire-eyes, the flames that surround her irises bright and spitting sparks.

“Or,” I say softly, “you could explain to me exactly why you were carrying poison sewn into your dress when I found you in the Veilspire.”

She deflects my question with an ease that confirms whatever suspicions lingered in my head as I watched her sleep, shooting her response sharply back at me. “Why did you offer the Binding?”

I don’t let go of her wrist, tugging her a little closer. “Because you owed me a life-debt, and I intend to claim it.”

I can see the panic now, though she makes an excellent effort at hiding it. It’s in her eyes, in the way the flames jump and grow. “What does that mean?”

“I meant what I said,” I shake her, not hard but enough to try to shake some damned sense into her.

“I saw someone who needed help. And so I’m giving you a choice, Lyra.

Or I could have told the Council what it means for a Lightbringer to carry Iskra leaves in their pocket, and Nythen would have you torn open by now, spilling every secret inside that pretty little head. ”

I claimed her through a Binding, linked us together to make her betrayal impossible.

A Lightbringer spy she may be, but she doesn’t have to die for it.

“You owe me a life-debt, and so you can’t break the Binding even at the cost of your own life.

This is a chance to leave it all behind. Start again.”

For whatever time we have left. But she likely knows that just as well as I. Everybody here is living on borrowed time. “And if Umbraxis falls, you can run.”

It’s not a matter of if, but when. But I can’t say the words out loud. When I die in battle—unconnected to any bargain we’ve made—the Binding will break, and she’ll be free once more.

Lyra tugs her arm from my grip, and I let her go, watching as she sinks down onto the stool.

Her eyes assess me more carefully now. There’s a sharpness to them she no longer tries to hide.

“And here I was, surprised that Duskbane would allow me to be alone with you. You’re not as gentle as you pretend to be, healer. ”

“You would do well to remember that.” I turn away, flicking through the parchment of notes I started before riding out to the Veilspire. Before the seething Lightbringer beside me flipped my whole world upside down.

“So it seems,” she mutters. I leave her to stew over her circumstances while I speak to Nesra.

The older soldier eyes Lyra warily, pushing shaggy gray hair from her eyes. “I heard you brought back something interesting from the Veilspire. A tame Lightbringer. You really offered her a Binding?”

I jerk my head in confirmation. “Thanks for stepping in while I was gone. Where are we with the current intake? Any issues?”

Keeping watch on Lyra in the corner of my eye, I walk between the two rows of beds that take up most of the long room.

The few patients here are still sleeping at this hour.

Nesra reels off their current status, but I’m pleased to see so many beds empty.

Only three remain, all of them soldiers injured on patrol.

“This is excellent. Thanks for keeping the place going.”

“Anytime. I’m due back on patrol tomorrow, if you can make do without me.”

Hesitating, I nod. If we stay quiet, it’s no problem. “I wish I could steal you, but I don’t want Eldritch after me. Thanks for doing this.”

After she leaves, I make my way back to Lyra. “I want to work on your hands again, while the rest are sleeping.”

Silently, she offers me her palms as I wash my hands in the basin before pulling up another stool and sitting opposite her.

I run my finger over her wound after removing her bandages.

She doesn’t flinch. “Erevas won’t do any good on your hands.

You wouldn’t be able to cast if I use shadow to bind it, like I did on your stomach. ”

She must be in agony. But she barely seems to acknowledge the pain at all, only shrugging lightly. “Let them try to heal by themselves, then.”

Frowning, I move on to her fingers, testing the reflexes. “What level of feeling do you have?”

“Tingling, mostly. Some sharp pain, comes and goes.” She looks down at them. “I can use them, though.”

I click my tongue from habit, studying them. “I don’t think you’ll lose them. The color is lessening. Keep them warm, though. I’ll get you gloves.”

“Why bother?” She tilts her head. “I’m less of a threat with my casting removed.”

I pull a tincture from my belt, removing the lid and squeezing a small amount onto my fingers that I carefully brush into her darkened, swollen fingers, careful not to rub. “You wouldn’t be whole without it. I wouldn’t be that cruel.”

“Whole.” Lyra’s eyes are fixed somewhere behind me. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to feel like.”

Her words linger as my patients wake, and I put her to work arranging supplies.

Daewen, the oldest of the three soldiers currently under my care, curses beneath his breath every time she walks past, moving between the supply stores and my worktable.

“A damned fire-witch in Umbraxis. It’s not right, Eres. ”

His eyes widen when her head turns at exactly that moment. Her fingers flicker in a strange, jerking movement, and I bite down on my cheek when Daewen pales. “She’s not cursing you.”

The younger two aren’t much better. One refuses to even look at her, and the other looks close to pissing the bed.

It’s a relief when Darian slips through the doors, bearing a tray and a strained smile. “I’m on dinner duty today. We’re short since Kaelen ordered an extra patrol.”

I watch as all three patients turn their heads away, ignoring him. His smile slips. “I’ll just leave this here.”

“Thanks.”

When Darian’s eyes shift to Lyra, I step up beside him, looking down at the tray. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” But he hesitates. “I… wanted to talk. To you and Kaelen, ideally. But it can wait.”

The shadows beneath his eyes look deeper than I’ve ever seen. “Do you need a sleeping draft again? I can make one up for you.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t stop the nightmares. It just traps me inside them.”

When he rubs his eyes, my chest grows tight. “The Binding… I didn’t know it was that strong.”

Strong enough that I’m tracking every movement Lyra makes. Even now, I’m aware of her tearing up strips of cloth behind us. Aware of the way her eyes are staring into my back.

I told her it would pass. This… need, to stay close. And now I’m wondering if everything I’ve heard was a lie. Kaelen refused to acknowledge it when I challenged him last night, even as he refused to meet my eyes. But Darian has never been able to hide his emotions.

My voice lowers further. “Tell me the truth. Are you in pain because of his distance?”

Dare doesn’t say anything. But the look in his eyes tells the truth as deeply as any confession he could make. “I’m fine.”

No, he’s not. Not even a little. And I could kick myself for believing him all this time. “Come to my chambers tonight. Late. Kae will be there, and I’ll make him listen. He’s being a fool.”

“It’s not about that,” Darian sighs. “But—”

“Traitor.”

At the low hiss, Dare stiffens. “I’ll see you then.”

He turns away before I can stop him, vanishing through the doors.

Slowly, I turn. “Who said it?”

The three wielders in the beds look at me. Daewen lifts his chin, a mutinous expression on his weathered face. “It’s the truth. There’s treason in his blood. Don’t need none of his type here, Eres. None of hers, either.”

I’m half aware of Lyra edging closer.

The hocking sound that comes from Daewen’s throat gives him away. But I’m far, far faster than a bigoted soldier in a medical bed.

My hand slams down across his mouth, the slap ringing out. Daewen’s eyes widen as I lean over him, pressing down and covering his nose too for good measure. “I know that you weren’t about to spit at one of my guests in my healing bay, Daewen. You wouldn’t dare. Would you?”

He garbles something beneath my hand. I don’t let up. Instead, I lean closer. “I’m discharging you, effective immediately. Get up, get your things, and get the fuck out of my sight. I’ll let Eldritch know you’re fit for duty.”

He would have been gone in a day or two anyway, healed from the fracture to his leg he sustained during his last patrol.

Not in battle, but because he fell into one of our own fucking trap holes.

Daewen’s skin flushes with anger beneath the cragged riftlines that have sunk into his skin with age.

He gasps as I release him. “She’s a fucking Lightbringer. And he tried to give us up to them—”

He just won’t fucking learn.

“He’s not responsible for his father’s decisions,” I snarl. My hand wraps around his neck. “And you’ll apologize to her.”

A golden hand appears over mine. “He’s entitled to his opinion on me.”

“Not in my fucking wing.” I squeeze harder before lessening the pressure against his windpipe. “Apologize.”

Daewen wheezes. “I’m—sorry. Fuck.”

I rip my hand away. I don’t want to actually kill him, no matter how much it might feel that way.

But the darkness in Darian’s face won’t leave me.

The defeat as he turned away. “You spread the word. Anyone I hear spreading lies about Darian Veyr—who is still a member of the Council, I would remind you—will be refused treatment from now on.”

He gapes at me. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.” I stand. “Now get the fuck out. I can’t treat ignorance.”

When I turn away, Lyra is staring at me. There’s a faint blush in her cheeks.

I swallow. “Are you alright?”

She nods silently.

“Good.” I turn to the other two, ignoring Daewen’s coughing as he climbs out of bed. “Anything you want to say?”

They both shake their heads.

“Keep it that way.”