50. Soren
Chapter fifty
Soren
“She speaks, Your Highness.” Someone squeezes my shoulder, and I flinch awake. The healer apologizes for waking me, then gestures toward Enna.
Enna floats in the saltwater tank. Her face is turned toward me, features smooth with sleep. Gills flutter in constant rhythm along her neck. She’s been this way for a full day. Her eyes are closed, but her mouth moves now, muttering something I cannot hear. Bubbles stir and lift from her parted lips.
I place my hand on the glass. “What did she say?”
“I’m not sure.”
We press our ears against the glass. The tank water thuds with a drowning echo, faintly tuned with the sound of Enna’s hushed voice.
“I cannot make it out,” says the healer. “But I thought you’d want to know. This is the first sign of progress since we stabilized her this past high tide.”
I strain my hearing, but I cannot decipher her words. “What tide is it now?”
“Evening low, Your Highness. You’ve been asleep for a while. I did not want to disturb you.”
I rub the sleep from my face and grunt.
“Her heart rate and breathing are normal. Vital signs look good right now. She seems to be under some sort of magical distress, an internal war in her spirit. I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do but keep her here and react if anything changes.”
“She was twitching like a wrigglefish! She collapsed, has been comatose for a full day already, and you’re telling me there’s nothing wrong with her?” I ball my hands into fists.
“That’s right, Your Highness.”
It’s not the healer’s fault, I remind myself with a deep inhale. I just don’t understand the nature of her condition. A magical distress? From what? The only magic in that room was mine, ferried through the pendant.
Could this be my fault?
Regret slices through me, sharp and stinging. I was trying to keep her safe, and in my carelessness, I hurt her somehow. I should have warned her. Should have told her to keep quiet.
“I know it’s shocking, but we are well equipped here.” She smiles. “Get some rest. I’ll call you if there’s a change.”
“No.” I press into the side of the tank; the glass warm against my nose. “I will not leave her.”
She’s alive, at least. And stable for now. Her chest expands and contracts in a steady rhythm. In, out. In, out. I match my breathing with hers, forcing my heart to slow its frantic beating.
Enna will be okay, just as the healer said. She just needs some time, and she’ll break out of whatever this is. I have to believe that, before I fall prey to the madness.
A wash of dark color swirls in the water of the tank, darkening my view. Suddenly, Enna’s skin splits along her hip, punctured with a hundred small holes. Blood spreads from the wound, flooding the water. I pound the glass with my fists, desperate to touch her, and the healer springs to action, increasing the strength of her spell. She focuses on the emerging wound, but the membrane refuses to knit back. Her spines flare, and one snaps off, dropping to the floor of the tank. The tip of her tail knots and twists, a severed hole the size of my skull splitting the fine membrane.
Chills cover my body as blood fills the tank rapidly. There goes my heart—battering against my rib cage with renewed horror.
The healer shouts for her attendants, and several magic-wielders rush in, dipping their magic into the tank. They surround Enna in a rainbow of colors, their tendrils prodding and stitching and smoothing.
As soon as they fill the wound, the flesh splits open again, refusing to mend.
I reach into the tank, clasping her hand firmly. Her skin is hot, much too hot for her normal icy touch. I squeeze, as if I might imbue my life force into hers. Her fingers twitch, her pinky wrapping around mine.
She’s in there, still, my hopping beach dancer. My fighter. Shadow-guard of my heart.
Along her forearms, her spines lift from their sheathes. What I would give to be back on that beach, on the receiving end of those wicked spines. I would let her slice me a million times over. I would deal with that incessant itch for the rest of eternity, if it means she’ll make it through.
“Fight, dammit!” I shout at her. “You hear me, Wicked? Whatever this is, you must fight it. You will not leave me.”