Chapter Thirty-Three #2
“Seth! You’re hurting him. Stop!”
Seth looks at me and then yanks me forward by my robe. “Fucking save him, Sylvie.”
I push the light magic into Taran’s wounds, closing the ones bleeding the heaviest. I don’t know what I’m going to do.
The wounds reopen so quickly, and between Taran and Ronan, there are so many.
And even if I’m healing them, the injuries go deep.
I know Ronan is able to heal deep wounds enough that they heal completely with the help of an elixir, but my magic isn’t as strong as his, and my practice has only been with superficial cuts and scrapes.
And then there’s the issue of how long the poison works. Will it wear off before I run out of magic?
“Seth, look at me. Look at me!” I grab on to him by the tunic. “You have to go get a healer. If you want him to live, you have to go. I’ll keep them going as long as I can, but we need help. I need help.”
“Promise me you’ll heal them both. Not just Ronan. Promise me, Sylvie.”
Gods, I hadn’t even thought of that. If it came down to it, if I had to choose—
No. I won’t allow myself to go there. “I promise, Seth.” The truth is, Taran means almost as much to me as Ronan. He’s Ronan’s dearest friend, and he’s become one of mine.
I’m just going to have to save them both. There’s no other way.
Taran moans as his deep cuts reopen. I heal them once more, and then I take care of the gash in Ronan’s side. Anything small or shallow is going to have to wait.
“Go, Seth. Take Kira.”
“Fuck,” he says, pushing up from the ground.
“Seth,” whispers Taran. His voice is rough and raw. “Seth, I—”
“Don’t. You’re not going to die.” Seth grabs Taran roughly by the collar of his tunic. “Do you hear me? You’re not going to die.”
He lowers him back to the ground and takes off in the direction of the meadow, kicking the body of an assassin as he lights up another in flames.
“Sylvie,” says Ronan, pulling himself to his knees. “You have to heal Taran only. This gash isn’t that bad. I can sew it shut. I’m just going to get the needle.”
Ronan collapses to the ground.
“Ronan!” I lay him down, feeling his injuries with my magic.
Oh, gods. There’s a wound near his groin I didn’t see. The bloodstain blended with his black pants.
I strip his pants off him. We’re outside in broad daylight, but this is no time for modesty. “Gods, Sylvie. You couldn’t wait until we had a little privacy?”
Ronan’s eyes flutter, winking once. Then they close.
“Fuck! Ronan, stay with me!”
“Ronan?” groans Taran, trying to get to him.
I still have my magic, which means he’s still conscious. I heal the wound I missed before where Ronan’s leg meets his groin and then the gash on his side before turning back to Taran, healing him all over again as well.
There’s no way I can keep this up. I don’t know if I’m going to make it until Seth gets back.
I stand up, looking at them both, trying to think of a way to stretch the magic, when out of the corner of my eye, I see the torch where I dropped it.
Its flame is still weak, but it’s growing. It reaches out for me, not with Ronan’s magic or his feelings but with its own desire.
Take me. Use me.
It’s Vayla’s torch. The goddess of light and life.
It’s magic, but is it the same kind? Could it work when our own magic cannot?
I have to try it. I pick it up from the ground, and I bring it to Ronan. “Can I try this? It may hurt.”
Ronan looks at it, and the torch glows brighter, sensing him. He nods. “This one first,” he says, pointing at the gash in his side.
I lower the torch to the cut. Ronan cries out, and I grip his hand, hating the sound of his pain more than anything I’ve ever heard. I pull the torch away, but Ronan brings it back. “It’s working. I can feel it.”
I wait a few more seconds, using my grasp of Ronan’s magic to sense when the wound closes. Then I pull back the torch.
“Holy fuck.” The wound is gone. Not partially healed as it has been each time I’ve done it. Fully healed with no scar, no sign it was there at all.
Then I do the same with the wound near his groin, carefully avoiding the sensitive areas.
“Taran now,” says Ronan. “Before you do the rest.”
I don’t hesitate. I take the torch to Taran. He’s gone so pale that his tattoo looks shockingly dark on his neck and chest. I press the torch to each of his injuries. Ronan takes his hand as he cries out in pain from the burns.
“Thank you,” whispers Taran.
“The elixir,” says Ronan. “Here, I’ll heal myself the rest of the way.” I hand the torch to him as I tip the elixir into Taran’s mouth.
“We need to get inside,” I say as I check Taran for hidden wounds with my magic, thankfully finding none. “There could be others coming.” I try to lift him myself, but he’s heavier than I expected.
“Come here, Sylvie,” says Ronan, pulling me to my feet. He holds me to him, and my body finally releases the tension and fear.
Oh gods, I nearly lost him. I nearly lost them both.
“Ronan,” I say, my voice breaking. “Ronan, I was so scared.”
“Sylvie, you were incredible.” He brushes away my tears. “You saved us.” He kisses me softly, and then he bends down to carry Taran back inside.
We wait for a long time for the others to arrive. Seth returns first with a healer on Kira, the poor priest shaking from the flight. He marvels at the invisible wounds, giving Taran a strong elixir for his blood loss and declaring that he’ll be up and about in a few days.
Seth, now that Taran is no longer in mortal danger, has returned to his usual self. “If you had just waited and let me get the water like I said I was going to, none of this would have happened.”
“It still would have happened. It just would have been you lying here instead of me.”
“Except you would have been dead,” I say to Seth. “No one fights like Taran.”
Seth’s eyes flare with rage. “He nearly died.” He breathes heavily for a moment then regains his composure. “It would seem that our sister has found us at last. We aren’t safe here.”
“Ronan, they have poison that can stop magic. Light magic, and maybe fire.”
“And water,” says Taran. He gestures in the air, and the water he’s trying to conjure doesn’t appear.
“But not the torch,” says Ronan. His eyes meet mine, and I know what he’s thinking.
“We have to go to the tomb. We need whatever is there if we’re going to fight this.”
Ronan nods. “We’ll make sure Taran and Seth get to the castle. And then we’ll go.”
Both Taran and Seth protest loudly.
“You cannot go alone,” says Taran. “You have no idea what you’ll be facing in there.
Give me a week to recover. The castle is well defended, and the legions are camped nearby.
No one Adria sends will be able to get to us there.
We can still all go together when we march the soldiers south as we planned. ”
Seth, for once, agrees. “We need you and whatever that torch is with us. If she sends more attackers, we’ll have nothing that can help.”
I scowl. Of course he’s only thinking of himself.
And maybe Taran. A little.
Taran pulls himself up in his bed. “I’m sworn to protect you, sir.”
“Lie back down, you fool,” says Seth. “You’re not going anywhere.” He sighs, looking from Taran to Ronan and finally to me. “I’ll go.”
“No,” I say. Seth is admittedly a strong fighter, but he’s not a protector of anyone except himself. “Stay here and make sure Taran gets better.”
“No, he’s right,” says Taran. The affectionate way he says it indicates he thinks Seth is doing this for him, nobly agreeing to step up and take his place. I’m not so sure. “He should go with you.”
“Very well,” says Ronan. I look at him in disbelief, but he shrugs. He’s doing this in part to make Taran happy and in part because he believes Seth is worried about me. “You can take Bitey.”
The others arrive then. Quinn fusses over Taran, while Larus and Typhon search the assassins, taking their poisoned weapons and three unbroken vials of unlabeled poison. The rest they bury, using Larus’s magic to make quick work of the unpleasant task.
Quinn and Taran fight bitterly over the plan to send Seth with us to Avaris while the others are outside. In the end, although Ronan won’t budge on his decision to let Seth come despite Quinn’s protests, he agrees to let her come as well after my encouragement.
With our plans decided, Ronan and I return to our cottage to pack up our things while Quinn and Octavia wait outside on guard. When we get back, we’ll need to move into Castle Pyka for protection until we’re ready to march on Faros.
A tear runs down my cheek as I pack away my flute.
“Hey,” says Ronan, kissing me softly. “I’ll miss it too.”
“I’ve just been so happy here. What if it’s never like this again?” I look around at the messy little corner we carved out in the world for ourselves, not ready to let it go.
“It may not be exactly like this, but as long as we’re together, it will be wonderful.” He holds my hands to his chest. “You said it yourself last night. I am your home, and you are mine.”
Then he kisses me one last time in the first place that was truly ours.