Chapter 24
ET ME GET TO HIM!”
“Damien, stop—”
“HE’S MY brOTHER! I HAVE A RIGHT TO BE THERE!”
Finn looks up as Damien charges past Roburn. He’s apparently exhausted the guards trying to keep him outside this small room.
“Let him,” I mutter. Things can hardly get worse.
My eyes haven’t moved from Sebastian, who is laid out on the floor. There’s only a wisp of his life to hold on to, a narrow strand that I am gripping desperately with my Talent. Finn and Roburn carried him into this more protected antechamber. I can’t figure out where the hell to start fixing him.
There are twelve arrows in his chest, in his arms, in his legs. I have to stop the bleeding in multiple places. I need time, but I don’t have it. I’ve got all’s-cure; I’ve emptied the bottle already. But all’s-cure is for small cuts and injuries. Sebastian is dying. My Talent is his only chance.
Damien hurries toward us. “Did you send for Cygnus?”
“She’s working on it!” Finn snaps.
“SEND FOR CYGNUS!” he roars at the nearby guard. “RUN! NOW!”
“You are making this worse!” Finn shouts, turning toward his brother.
“At least I’m not just sitting around!”
“GET OUT,” Finn suddenly commands. At first, I think he’s just talking to the guards, but he looks at Damien and adds, “You too. Go for a walk or something.”
“Not a chance,” says Damien.
“Do you want him to die?” Finn snaps. “Lyria needs to concentrate, and you’re panicking. Please, Damien. Leave.”
I look between the two princes in alarm. The guards hurry out the door, and Damien turns reluctantly to leave. Finally, it’s only Finn and me.
I glance at Finn, who crouches at Sebastian’s side, clutching his brother’s hand.
He’s impossibly pale, with tears streaming down both cheeks.
If he didn’t look so agonized, I’d demand he leave as well.
But what good would that do? He’d still have questions later about how Sebastian healed so quickly. I can trust Finn, can’t I?
I am a Healer. I have someone’s life in my hands. I can’t afford to hide my power anymore.
“I need you to let go of Sebastian now,” I command in a voice I don’t recognize. “You’re about to see something you may not like or understand, and I need you to sit down and stay quiet, or you risk your brother’s life. Do you hear me?”
The prince’s eyes widen, and I see several reactions flash there: shock, defensiveness, maybe respect.
“I’m doing everything I can,” I continue. “But if you want me to save him, I need you to trust me.”
We battle with glares. Finally, Finn says, “I hear you.” He draws up a chair while I turn toward Sebastian’s limp form.
I target the wounds that are bleeding fastest, cursing my fickle Talent. I need time. I need to work slowly and deliberately, visualizing each muscle and vein. Too quick, I could lose control again. And if I kill Sebastian tonight…
NO.
There is no room for fear in this moment. I recall Cygnus’s wisdom: Self-doubt won’t help anybody.
You have trained for this, Lyria. You have done it before.
As I work over Sebastian, I pray steadily to the Goddess Elowyn.
I beg her to save him. Not for me, not for Finn, but for Evermore.
It’s clear which of Rodrick’s sons would be best for the future of the Elves.
Sebastian is good. Uncommonly kind. I have yet to hear an ill word spoken of him.
Finn’s eldest brother has what Davina clearly covets: the genuine love of his people.
If anyone could lead the Hartlands to peace, it would be this gentle soul in my hands.
So I beg the Goddess to spare him. To give our exhausted kingdom this: One ruler who would try for compassion. One earnest leader, who would strike only when the moment requires it.
I start removing the arrows, one by one.
Soon I’m sweating profusely, trembling head to foot.
There’s one good thing: My Talent isn’t burning anymore.
The absence is like a cool breeze, something I could have enjoyed under different circumstances.
But as I’m drawing on so much of my power, exhaustion quickly outpaces relief.
My legs lose feeling, and my hands start to cramp.
When Cygnus steps through the doors, my chest heaves. I have never been so relieved to see a person in my life.
“Get out!” Finn tells him immediately. He stands up in front of me, as if to shield me from view. I don’t have time to think about what this means: Is he protecting my secret? Is he not scared?
“He can stay,” I say. I meet Finn’s gaze for a brief second. “He knows.”
Finn frowns, but he doesn’t protest and steps aside.
“Where are we at?” Cygnus asks calmly, stepping up beside me. He’s brought a satchel of supplies, which he quickly unpacks and cleans while I explain.
I’ve closed half of the wounds at this point, but several others are still bleeding, the arrows untouched, and I’m nearing total exhaustion. Every time I remove an arrow, Sebastian loses a deadly amount of blood. His life force is down to a tattered thread.
“I’ve got six more,” I say tersely. “Can you help me stabilize him?”
“Yes.”
We duck our heads together, and for the first time, Cygnus and I move in sync.
We fall into an easy flow. Back and forth, his medicine with my Talent. I’m so accustomed to clashing with the Head Healer, I didn’t anticipate how compassionate he’d seem in this context. He keeps interjecting with assurances.
“You’re doing well,” he tells me, once he notices my shaking hands. “Take deep breaths. That’s great, Lyria.”
He directs our approach as we work together to remove the remaining six arrows. Cygnus doesn’t just guide the process; he guides me. It’s so much easier to work with someone else steadying me.
I finally understand it: why Daisy giggles at his mention, why Anna doesn’t resent the hospital being run by a teenager.
He’s remarkable.
As the process draws into hours, Cygnus and I are keenly aware that we’re doing the impossible.
Sebastian looks like a corpse already: his perfect features past recognition, his eyes violet with bruises, and his skin like sour milk.
Clinging to Sebastian’s life force is like grasping a thread tied to a running bull.
His life is pulling toward death, but I’m pulling harder.
Death will not take Sebastian tonight.
Come what may, I will do this. I will not let him go.
With Cygnus’s help, I work until Sebastian’s wounds are mended.
When I’m done, I feel certain that a human couldn’t detect the scarring.
Cygnus and I have worked nothing less than a miracle tonight, but we still haven’t brought back his color.
And despite our efforts addressing every visible injury, all that’s keeping Sebastian alive is my Talent.
With nothing left for him to do, Cygnus sweeps up his instruments. He mumbles something about cleaning them and steps into the adjoining chamber, his footsteps crunching on the broken glass.
In Cygnus’s absence, I look back at Finn. He’s been quiet all night. A brooding angel. He looks equally ashen, his fine features rent with despair. But when our eyes meet, I find no hatred or disgust in them. Just concern.
I wonder if that will change when I’m done.
When Cygnus returns, his walk is slow.
“I’ve done all I know how to do,” he admits. I hear the layered plea in his words. Everyone in this room wants the same thing: for my Talent to save Sebastian. But I’m past spent. I might have been treading water this whole time.
I gaze back at Cygnus, warring over how much to confide.
Anything I say will be heard by Finn. Judging by Cygnus’s face, I guess that I look like hell.
I know I feel like it. My hair is plastered in clumps to my forehead; I’ve been alternating hot and cold sweats as I’ve drawn on levels of power I haven’t touched since the Ironwoods.
“I’m trying,” I say roughly, emphasizing every syllable. “I’m just holding him. Y’know?”
His eyes widen a little, and I can sense his alarm. He might be the only one who can see just how hard I’m fighting.
“Would it help if I sit with you?” he asks.
I nod.
He draws up a chair and scoots in close beside me. He doesn’t talk more, just sits quietly with me. I use his breathing to measure my own.
You can do this, Lyria. You have trained for this.
I see very clearly what I need to do. This is how I reach absolution.
In all other things, I have failed. I have revealed my identity.
I haven’t finished the omnidraught. I haven’t opened the gates to Ruin.
But maybe this is the reason the Gods brought me to the castle.
Maybe this is Elowyn’s will. Sebastian is the king the people need.
I can make this my purpose—saving him. Surely it is my duty.
It’s what I’ve prepared for my whole life.
I’ve walked with pain. I know its nature. I know where to strike against it, how to attack. This is an enemy I’ve clashed with before, every day. And if it’s a matter of enduring pain for the good of our realm, for the possibility of Evermore, that I can do.
I let myself lean on Cygnus’s quiet presence for a few minutes.
But as with all else, this is stolen time.
I quickly realize the situation’s selfishness.
The patients in the East Wing need Cygnus’s help more than I do right now.
I’m the only thing keeping him from that work.
Once that awareness inhabits me, I’m too sick with guilt to appreciate his proximity any longer.
“You should go,” I say, as soon as I can muster the courage.
“Is that what you want?” His eyes flash. There might be hurt there.
I nod forcefully.
Cygnus pauses. I suspect that he’s about to counter with something clever, a quick strike, but he doesn’t argue. Cygnus just stands up and leaves, without acknowledging Finn.
I’m left feeling oddly empty. Finn moves in to take Cygnus’s chair immediately after he’s gone.
“Can I help?” he asks.
I shake my head, closing my eyes. I’m battling not to get swept away by the insistent pull of Sebastian’s last thread. It seems so much easier to let go.
Finn reaches for my hand. “Please, Lyria. Let me help.”
“Stay,” I find myself telling him.
I open my eyes and find his green ones gazing back at me. They’re alight with emotion: terror and desperation and hope. How can someone look so beautiful while suffering?
“Don’t let go,” I say softly. “Please.”
That’s all I’ll give him. The only weakness I’ll admit. I need Finn right now more than I need air. I need him to keep gripping my hand, to remind me there is someone anchoring me to this world. If I can just hold on to him, I can keep Sebastian tethered, too.
Together, we make it through the long night.