17
Soleil
Everything unfolds so fast I barely have time to register what’s happening. I barely have time to see the burst of flame from the drakon before it’s obscured by the demon in front of me, before he lets out a sharp, anguished cry as he opens a portal.
Finn and I land hard on the ground back in the middle of camp.
My mind blanks, then scrambles, then catches up in fast-motion, a sob bursting out of me before I can do anything to stop it.
“Finn! Oh, god, Finn. Are you okay?”
What a stupid question.
Of course he’s not okay.
He just got roasted by a freaking dragon.
As soon as we’re on solid ground, his arms fall away from where he’d been holding onto me so tightly.
Making sure I was safe, even while he was suffering.
He’s on his knees in the dirt, wings drooping, shoulders slumped, his breath rasping fast and hard in his chest.
I scramble away from him, stand, and it gives me my first good look at his back.
My stomach lurches with a wave of nausea that makes what I felt when we portalled here seem like nothing.
But I keep my dinner down and my head on straight.
There’s no time for me to lose my shit.
“My bag!” I call out. “Someone grab it from my tent. And you two—” I wave my hand toward the two nearest guards, staring open-mouthed and horrified at the scene. “Help me get him inside.”
The next few minutes are a blur.
Guards rush forward and carry Finn into his tent. They get him situated on his stomach and help me take off his ruined clothing, while someone else runs off to get my healer’s kit.
The workshop tent probably would have been a better place to take him, now that I think about it. But my mind is a tangle, and moving him again would be a terrible idea, so this will have to do.
Rifling through the kit, I find some sedative brew and a strong pain-relieving tonic, and I help him get both doses down before steeling myself to get to work.
Finn’s back looks… awful.
Ruined, blistered flesh stretches over his upper arm and shoulder on one side, though from my initial examination, it seems the wing was spared.
How? I’m not really sure, but it’s a mark in our favor as I lean over him and raise my hands to hover just a couple of inches above his skin.
“I’m sorry, Finn,” I whisper, but either he’s not conscious or not interested in my apologies because he doesn’t stir.
There’s no time to worry about it right now, though.
My fingertips tingle and my whole body comes alive as I draw my true power forth.
Pulling on my magick this way is always a monumental effort, but it’s the purest form of healing I possess. Potions and herbs and salves are all wonderful, and if I tried to treat every patient this way, I’d probably end up as a withered husk, completely drained.
But when the occasion calls for it, there’s nothing else like it.
It’s as much a part of me as my body and soul, this gift. From the first time I discovered it—using my magick to heal Seren’s scraped knee when we were only three or four years old—it’s been there, waiting just beneath my skin, pulsing with the beat of my heart.
I don’t even need my eyes for it.
Letting them drift shut, I get lost in the strands of power I call from the earth, the air, the stars.
The magick of this realm is a slightly different sort than I’m used to, but effective nonetheless.
Each strand gleams brightly in my mind’s eye, and I breathe deep and even as I direct them where I want them to go.
I start at the edges of the wound and work inwards.
Brief pulses of Finn’s pain move through me as I work, but that’s just the cost. A small cost, only a fraction of what he’s feeling, but they sting viciously under my skin as I patch him back together.
When I open my eyes again, I don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours. Time loses a bit of its meaning when I’m in this state, even if it always catches up to me later.
But I can’t think about that right now. I’ve got bigger concerns.
The burns are better, but still not where I want them to be.
Frustrated, I roll my neck and prepare to get started on another round, when the demon in front of me lets out a mumbled groan.
“Finn?” I lean in closer to his face, run my hand across his brow to move his blond curls out of his eyes.
Finn’s eyes crack open. Just a little, but with a light in them that’s lucid enough to send a painful stab of relief through me.
“You alright, sunshine? You didn’t get hurt?”
A choked, hoarse laugh rasps out of my throat. “That’s the very last thing you should be worried about.”
He grimaces.
Ugh. Probably not the thing to say right now. Like he needed the reminder of what tough shape he’s in.
“Just rest,” I whisper, turning away to grab some more of the sedative brew I’ve got in my bag. I already gave him a hefty dose, but he’s a lot of demon to work with. I’m sure he needs a bit more than the average human.
Before I can, though, Finn grabs my hand, grip surprisingly steady.
“I will once I know you’re alright.”
His eyes are fully open now, more alert, and though they’re bright with pain, they’re also shining with concern.
“I’m alright,” I whisper, squeezing his fingers. “You made sure of that.”
He lets out a sigh of relief through his nose, and his eyes drift shut. “Good. Then it was worth it.”
Another laugh, even more choked and wobbly, but it’s probably not the best idea to argue with my patient.
Instead, I fix the dose of sedative, and after I coax it down his throat, I get back to work on another round of healing.
It’s harder this time, after I’ve already spent so much energy.
But it’s worth it.
Finn did this for me, got hurt so badly for me, so if I burn myself out returning the favor, it’s worth it.
As long as he’ll be okay, it’s worth it.
I hum as I work to keep myself grounded and focused—an old lullaby my mother used to sing to Seren and me about a great gnarled oak in a twilight forest and all the birds and animals in its branches going to sleep.
A silly thing, but it’s the first song that comes to mind, and as I sink deeper into my power, deeper into the lilting strains of the song, Finn’s tight muscles relax.
His pain eases and ebbs as it skates over my fingers, along the backs of my hands, until all I can feel as I work over him is a dull ache.
It’s enough.
For now, it’s enough.
Utterly exhausted, I peel my eyes open, and relief courses through me again.
It’s good work. Maybe some of my best. His skin is still an angry shade of red, but it’s whole. Knit back together, the wound closed, he probably won’t be feeling all that great anytime soon, but he’ll certainly survive and have a much shorter recovery than he would have otherwise.
For good measure, I pull out a couple of tinctures and a few herbs to mix into a poultice, which I place on his shoulder and cover with strips of gauze to keep it in place.
When I finally look up from where I’m bent over Finn, Vayla is standing in the tent’s doorway. I can’t even guess how long she’s been there, but her eyes are wide as she looks over my work.
She lets out a low hum of appreciation and reaches the canteen in her hand across the tent toward me. “That’s… impressive.”
“Thanks.” I grab the canteen and take a long swig. “It’s not the way I usually heal, but extraordinary circumstances, you know?”
She nods, face going pale in the low light. “I’m so sorry, Soleil. I absolutely should have warned you about the drakons. In all the chaos, it didn’t even cross my mind, and that mistake could have cost you and Finn your lives.”
I stand, though my lower back and numb legs immediately protest.
Reaching Vayla in a stride, I put my hands on her shoulders. “And I should have asked a guard it was safe before I went wandering around a realm I barely know anything about.”
She nods again, though that stricken look doesn’t entirely leave her.
“It was so, so stupid for me to go off wandering on my own,” I tell her. “Really. I don’t blame anyone but myself.”
She lets out a shaky, tear-edged sigh. “Alright. Well. I’m still going to be beating myself up about it for a while. Do you want to go lie down back in our tent and get some sleep? I can sit with him if you need rest.”
Immediately, the magick buried deep in my chest protests.
Leave?
Now?
When Finn is still here, still hurt, when I’m still needed by my m—
“I’ll stay for a bit,” I say, tamping down that unbelievably powerful wave of protective instinct.
Where the hell did that come from?
“Just in case he wakes up and needs another round of healing,” I add, and Vayla gives me a long, knowing look before she leaves.
Finn is quiet.
His breathing is deeper and more even now, and he doesn’t stir as I lower myself down beside him.
The ground is hard, but the soft grass beneath the tent’s floor helps a little, and the taut canvas wall is firm enough to lean against.
I’ve slept in less comfortable places than this.
After having crashed on wooden chairs or on benches in the coven hall’s workshops when a potion needed tending all night, sitting here seems pretty cushy in comparison.
And I’m so, so tired.
The late night, the drain of my magick, the emotional toll of the last few hours, all of it has my eyes sliding shut just as soon as I sit down.