Twenty-Five
Zidra
The back of my neck itched as I crossed the threshold into the cottage. Inside, a sizable four-poster bed with its curtains tied back took up nearly a third of the space. A washbasin large enough to stretch out one’s legs occupied most of one wall, while a tidy desk and stuffed bookshelf occupied all the space under the large window that faced the water. Random household implements filled shelves built into the walls on either side of the spacious fireplace, and a small armchair sat in the center of the room. Combined with the fact that this one-room house was tucked into the concave space at the bottom of the cliff, situated right beneath all that rock, the cramped space made me want to take flight.
“Cozy,” I said, half trying to convince myself that that word could describe the room. “But it seems lonely. ”
“It seems crowded,” Rouven groused. “It’s supposed to have only me in it!”
“Why would you choose this?” Even though I liked my time alone, I’d lose my mind without contact with another person for days or even months on end.
The elderly ice elf scowled at me, drawing the lines of his face deeper. “I wanted some peace and quiet away from people who always want something from me.”
I watched him closely. “Not because you’re running from anything?”
His posture stiffened. “You’re here for medical attention, not to ask personal questions.”
Not a no. “Maybe I’d like to know who is treating me before I trust you.”
“And why should I trust you, hm?” He pointed at my insignia. “Maybe you all murdered some rengiri and stole those. Maybe you made counterfeits.”
I raised my eyebrows. “To…what? Trick you into helping me?”
“Or into letting you in.” His mouth twisted to the side. “Although I suppose if you wanted to kill me, you would have attempted it now that there’s three of you inside my defenses and I’m not actively wielding any magic.”
“Does someone want you dead?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.
But Rouven’s eyes narrowed. “For someone with a life-threatening condition, you seem more concerned with prying into my affairs than securing my medical expertise.”
Kyrundar stepped up next to me. “Pardon her. She’s just nervous, and wyveri don’t like tight spaces.”
Rouven considered this, then nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense, given your size when shifted. Well then, come sit on the bed then, girl, and let me take a look.”
“There’s a perfectly good chair—”
“And if I need you to lie down, we’ll have to move, so stop wasting time. Besides, I already put my tools on the bed.” Rouven stomped to the bed and turned around to glare at me.
A slight pressure on my lower back marked Kyrundar steering me toward the bed, and I let him. Sure enough, a scalpel, pair of shears, towel, bowl of water, needle and thread, and roll of bandages waited on the foot of the bed. Stiffly, I sat on the edge of the mattress, surprised at its plushness. For living alone in the middle of nowhere, Rouven certainly had made his life as comfortable as possible.
At the healer’s prompting, I removed my pauldron. With speedy precision, Rouven used the shears to cut off my bandage and cut away some more of my sleeve. His frown deepened as he looked at the wound. Without speaking, he cleaned the area and wiped it dry.
“Do you feel this?”
I looked down to see his fingertips prodding at the blackish edges of the small dark-red wound in my arm. “No,” I whispered.
Rouven sighed and dropped his hand to his side. “I wish we had a fleshmage here. That would help. As it is, if we can destroy the curse—and that is if —I’m going to need to cut out the parts of your flesh that have necrotized. Even fleshmages can’t bring this back, but they can speed up the healing and help you regrow at least some of the flesh. But if you survive, you’re going to have at least a large scar. At worst, you may have a permanent indent in this arm. You may have some tightness there that will never fully go away.”
I gulped. It mattered little, although I prayed it wouldn’t affect my ability to swing a sword. “Understood.”
“Now I’m going to examine the magical part of this malady.”
“It may hurt,” Kyrundar warned.
Rouven released a frustrated grunt and waved a hand. “Of course it will hurt, boy. It’s tainted and malicious magic.”
As the physician cupped his hands around my arm, I braced myself. Rouven’s magic felt different from Kyrundar’s—colder and sharper, like needles of ice exploring under my skin. I gritted my teeth and clenched fistfuls of the soft bedspread. Perspiration beaded on Rouven’s face.
Finally, the pain stopped. He released my arm and stepped back with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as if under a great weight. He wiped his forehead and turned to Kyrundar.
“You did well.” His tone sounded begrudging. “Exceptional work, demonstrating skill and power.” He rolled his neck and straightened. “Which is good, because you’re going to need all of that expertise and strength if we’re going to save her life. The ice curse has latched onto her, like thousands of tiny barbs—but barbs that have a sort of life to them, that want to grow and spread. As I’m sure you discovered, attempting to remove the curse requires far too much effort and will cause her too much pain. We’ll have to destroy it inside her.”
“How?” Kyrundar asked the question I couldn’t voice, sounding as shocked as I was.
“It basically involves compressing it until it implodes, but let me worry about that.” Rouven pointed at Kyrundar. “Your task is to keep the curse and my magic contained. You’ll have to strengthen and maintain your barrier and ensure that its size remains consistent and that none of my magic or the curse gets past you. If your barrier fails, I may lose control, and she’ll freeze before your eyes. Can you do that?”
I worked my throat, trying to find the words to reassure Kyrundar that he could do this, but the only thought in my mind was she’ll freeze before your eyes on repeat.
Had we survived three assassination attempts only for me to die now?
I didn’t want to die. Not now. Not yet. I’d fallen asleep in the belly of the ship reciting prayers, and I had dreamed—not regular dreams, but dreams I knew were from Iskyr. While they were hazy now, Kyrundar and the heartbond had featured heavily in them, and I knew Iskyr was telling me to trust his gifts and plan. I’d awoken determined that if the heartbond survived the removal of the curse, that would be my sign that the love I felt for Kyrundar was true. And while I’d waited on the Tristan for Kyrundar to return, fretting about whether the magical traps would hurt him or worse, I’d realized I regretted pushing him away .
I couldn’t die. Not before I’d kissed him again.
I almost grabbed him and kissed him right that moment, but he needed focus, not a distraction. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure I could make my limbs move. I felt half frozen already.
Was that the curse, or my fear?
Kyrundar’s wide eyes locked with mine. Then a look of steely resolve overcame his countenance. He nodded once. “I won’t let you down. Iskyr, give me strength.”
Rouven nodded. “Iskyr strengthen and guide our magic and our skill and protect our patient.” He motioned toward the bed. “Zidra, please lie down. This is going to be painful. You may get lightheaded, so I’d prefer you didn’t fall. Actually…” He stomped back to the door and threw it open. “You—whatever your name was, with the muscles. It’s going to be crowded, but I need you in here.”
The ice elf returned, and Sajen ducked through the door, the tight space emphasizing his bulk. “What do you need me for, exactly?”
“Get on the bed on Zidra’s other side and be ready to hold her down if she starts thrashing.”
Blood drained from my face at the same time as Kyrundar went pale as snow.
“Is that likely to happen?” he asked, his voice strained.
“How should I know? I’ve never operated on her before, and no one has ever tried this.”
Sajen raised his brows and glanced between the physician and me as if questioning whether this was a good idea.
That made two of us .
Three of us, judging by the look on Kyrundar’s face.
But we didn’t have another choice. Either I died here, or I died when the curse overpowered Kyrundar’s magic. Or when the ice magic in my flesh killed my arm.
I lay down near the edge of the bed. Sajen climbed up and sat between me and the wall, while Rouven and Kyrundar stood over me. Rouven fussed over Kyrundar’s hand placement, physically repositioning Kyrundar’s hands on either side of my wound until at last he was satisfied. His own hands hovered over the puncture, glowing slightly blue, but I didn’t feel anything yet.
“Strengthen the barrier,” Rouven said, calm and low. “Can you draw it in slightly tighter?”
I winced at the chilly prickling and pulling sensation in my arm.
“Good. More power…good. Hold that. Add more power if needed to keep it that size. That exact size, understand? Good. I’m starting now.”
Rouven placed his left hand atop his right and pressed his right palm to my arm between and overlapping Kyrundar’s hands. Burning cold stabbed at my arm.
I screamed.