Chapter Thirty-Two
Rhydek
I didn’t consciously choose the path I took, I just ran.
Sand and stone blurred beneath my feet, corridors collapsing into one another as I tore across the surface and down into Korvashan with Taryn in my arms. The world had narrowed to the weight of her body, the blood dripping from her, and the pulse of her flickering within the bond.
Too quiet.
“Taryn.”
Her name came out broken, torn from a throat that had roared commands on battlefields and never once faltered, but it did now.
Her head rolled against my arm as I turned another corner, her blood trailing behind me in dark drops across ancient stone. Warriors moved aside without question as I passed. I called orders, expecting them to be followed even if I couldn’t remember what they were.
I felt her slipping, the thread connecting us growing thin. The pain of her wounds echoed in my body, and it felt like something clawed within my chest, threatening to rip through and destroy who I’d been.
I couldn’t go through this again.
The doors to Saed’s quarters didn’t open fast enough. I shoved an elbow through the opening, forcing it to open faster with a screech of metal that may have destroyed it.
Dry air rushed over my skin, scented with herbs and something sharp, cooler than I expected. The clean, sterile room seemed unnatural in Korvashan’s stone depths, but none of that mattered, only the male in front of me.
Saed blinked his large eyes, as calm and patient as he always seemed. It was one of the things I disliked about his kind, how they never displayed emotions.
I almost envied him if he truly didn’t feel. The painful hole where my heart should have been was too much to bear.
His pale gaze swept to the woman in my arms, taking in every detail in a single, silent breath.
“Lay her there.”
His voice was measured and even, as if the world wasn’t ending.
I crossed the room in two strides and placed Taryn on the stone table he’d indicated. My hands lingered for a fraction before I forced them away. Blood covered her, covered me, and the rhythm of her heart sounded wrong.
Or perhaps it was mine I heard, erratic in its beating, since hers would have slowed.
I stepped back, watching her face. It was relaxed as if she were just resting, if I ignored the crimson smears and only looked at the undamaged side.
The other…
I stopped myself. Thoughts, body, everything held suspended as Saed moved to her side and began calling things to the beta who’d been with him when I arrived.
Clenching my hands at my sides, I pierced my palms with my claws once more, digging almost down to the bone.
It was a miniscule pain compared to what came through the bond before Taryn lost consciousness, and it faded beneath what twisted in my chest, but I had to force my hands to remain at my sides because if I touched her again, I wouldn’t have been able to let go.
Saed’s motions were slow and sure, making me want to scream at him to hurry, but all I could do was watch in silence. His assistant appeared from somewhere behind him, delivering supplies. Cloths, pots of salve, syringes with needles that caught the light, filled with liquids of varying color.
They worked in near silence as if they had done this a thousand times. I watched as Taryn’s breathing deepened even as the drip of blood from the table increased.
I didn’t move. Barely dared to breathe for fear that I’d take a molecule of air she needed.
“She is losing too much blood.”
The beta’s voice was soft but not quiet enough that I couldn’t hear. My chest tightened when Saed didn’t respond immediately, his slim fingers pressed to Taryn’s throat.
“She is not lost.”
Not lost.
That didn’t mean safe.
“The wounds are from a blade. Or… They could have been a blade or a varku barb.”
My voice was flat, emotionless, because if I allowed myself to feel anything, I would break. I didn’t know how she had been injured, because I hadn’t been there. I’d left her alone even though I knew there might be danger. That Serenya and Rowena had both been attacked.
And while Taryn had assured me Zharrek wasn’t responsible, I couldn’t be sure I trusted him.
The only reason he still breathed while she fought for her life was because I’d watched him obey her when she told him to go to his nest, and I couldn’t explain him attacking her and then following commands she couldn’t enforce. I needed the full story.
Saed’s head tilted, that strange, avian motion he used when studying something of interest.
“I think there are both.”
I said nothing, unable to determine what he meant. His gaze flicked to me briefly before returning to Taryn as he injected her with one syringe, and then another.
“You arrived quickly. That has given her a chance, but this will have to be done in stages.”
A chance.
Shaira had never been given a chance, but I wasn’t sure it changed anything.
I swallowed, the motion sharp and painful.
“Do what you can.”
I had never trusted the Qy’shaeuhl, but I didn’t have a choice. Our Kethral were learning Human healing, but Saed was the expert, and Taryn needed someone with his knowledge.
Saed didn’t respond or offer comfort. One thing I’d always admired about his kind was that they never lied, but they could make you believe they were saying one thing when they meant another.
His assistant mopped blood from Taryn’s skin and the table beneath her as Saed cut her clothing open. The dark hole in her pale stomach made mine twist, and I thought I might be sick at the sight of a wound for the first time.
Saed opened a container, the scent of something bitter filling the air as he scooped out a thick, dark salve. The next moment he was pressing it into the hole in her abdomen, and my stomach heaved again.
Taryn didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. The bond was still anchored behind my ribs, but her presence felt distant, like a star on the edge of burning out.
I took another step back.
Then another.
And more until my spine met the wall, ending my retreat.
I stayed there, watching.
Waiting.
Helpless.
Time lost meaning. There was only the rhythm of Saed’s movements, his quiet instructions to the beta, and the scent of blood slowly fading beneath herbs and astringent.
And the bond, still there, holding the fragile hope that Shaevrin hadn’t claimed another.
“She is stable. She needs to regain fluids and consciousness before we continue.”
The words came suddenly, spoken into the near silent room in a steady voice that didn’t reveal relief or worry. I didn’t react because I half believed I had imagined them.
Saed placed himself in front of me, his gaze sharp as he blocked my view of my mate. My growl was automatic but faded as his words seeped past the wall I’d placed around my heart.
“You may move her while she rests.”
Gaze narrowed, I was unwilling to believe it was safe to move her. Her wounds no longer seeped blood, but the gash on her cheek and shoulder were still raw, and the hole in her stomach appeared barely closed.
“Where to?”
He gestured toward a pallet arranged on a shelf within the wall. Soft furs cushioned it, making it look like a small nest.
“She can rest there. I must prepare more salve, but I have to collect the ingredients first.”
I didn’t move immediately, eyes turning back to where Taryn lay on the table. While it didn’t look comfortable, it felt safe, since I knew he could tend to her there if something went wrong.
She looked so small. Laid too still. I couldn’t admit I was scared to touch her for fear that my curse would take full effect.
“Or I can have Tavrin move her…”
My growl cut off Saed’s suggestion and I brushed past him, refusing to show weakness. No other male was allowed to touch my mate, even if he was only a beta.
I slid my hands beneath her once more, lifting her from the table as I watched the tube connected to her arm. She felt lighter than she had before, limp in a way I wasn’t used to. Every other time I’d carried her she’d clung to me as if she wanted me close, but these last two times…
It was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
I moved to the pallet and lowered her onto it, adjusting the furs beneath her to ensure she was supported and…
Safe?
The word rang hollow in my mind. There was no such thing as safe near me. Even if I refused to believe in Shaevrin, there was no denying that death followed my path like one of the vhraeshk from the past, hunting those I touched.
I stepped away from her again.
Saed and Tavrin moved behind me, cleaning and preparing for whatever else they needed to do for her, but I no longer saw them or the room. I saw blood smeared on dark skin instead of pale. Emerald eyes that stared at nothing. A stillness that would never end.
Shaira.
She had died because I hadn’t been there to protect her, and Taryn was doomed by my continued failure.
My jaw clenched and I snatched my tail before it could lash around and break something. I wouldn’t be responsible for destroying something vital. I’d already caused enough damage.
It was what happened whenever I was involved.
My gaze moved over Taryn again, taking in the wounds. Scars were cherished on a warrior, but an omega wasn’t meant to bear them.
I watched her chest rise and fall, trying to find hope in the steady cadence. She was still alive.
For the moment.
The bond pulsed as if to remind me it was still there.
As if daring me to hope so I could be crushed again.
I wasn’t sure I could until her head turned, eyelids fluttering. The simple motion made my chest tight, my heart faltering.
“She will wake soon. Do not let her rise.”
It didn’t sound like reassurance, the order not to let her rise coming across as dire. I’d hold her down if it meant keeping her alive.
I forced myself to breathe as she stirred more, little sounds coming from her throat as if she struggled to come back to me.
Could Shaevrin control the destiny of a Human, or were they beyond the reach of the Eternal Winds?
“I should not have left you there alone.”