Chapter 5 #2
“I know.”
“That’s—”
“I know.”
Vel brings Veylith up on my left. Her gaze moves from the winged steed to me and back, and her fingers tighten on Veylith’s mane.
“Stay mounted.” I swing my leg over the saddle and drop to the mud. I don’t dismiss Selveryn, keeping him anchored to this realm in case things turn hostile. The rain drives into my face as I cross the gap.
The creature watches my approach, its burning eyes unblinking. When I’m close enough to feel the heat radiating from its body, I finally look down at the ground beneath it.
Alleria lies motionless in the mud. Her face is deathly pale, her eyes are closed. The severed rope is still pulled tight around her neck. Her shift is soaked through, plastered to a body that looks too small and fragile. Her throat above the rope is mottled purple and black.
The air stalls in my lungs. For one breathless second, I’m certain we’ve arrived too late.
Even the Nightwild magic between us dims until it’s almost gone.
I take another step. The creature shifts its weight, lifting one wing to grant me access.
I drop to my knees, my hand shaking as I press two fingers against the ruined skin of her throat to search for a pulse.
“Serath. Here. Now!”
The steed shifts as she approaches, taking a step back and allowing her closer. It knows her the way the other steeds know one of the Guard.
Because that’s what this is. A Nightwild steed. Formed from ash and panic by a human female who should not have the ability to reach for magic, let alone command a creature that belongs to us.
I reach for it through the threads. It answers with a surge of recognition. Its neck arches. Its nostrils flare, bleeding smoke into the rain.
“Go now. We have her.”
It dissolves into cinders and flames, taking its blistering heat with it.
Serath drops to her knees beside me, pressing both palms flat to Alleria’s chest.
“Her throat first.”
“I know what I’m doing, Cairn.” She doesn’t look up. “Let me work.”
Light bleeds from her hands, washing over Alleria’s still form. “Therin, cut the rope please.”
Therin crouches. A knife forms in his hand and he slides the blade beneath the rope and saws through it. When he pulls it away, the skin beneath is raw and torn, the imprint of the weave pressed deep into her flesh. He hisses at the sight, and tosses the rope to one side.
“How bad is it?” Vel’s voice comes from somewhere behind me.
Serath doesn’t reply straight away. Her hands move over Alleria’s body, the light flaring and dimming as it encounters broken bones and ruptured blood vessels.
“Her throat is the immediate problem. There’s damage to the windpipe. She was hanging long enough for—” She shakes her head. “I can do enough to move her. But for a full healing, we need to get out of this rain and somewhere safe.”
“Then stabilize her, and we will ride.”
She frowns at me. I know how I sound. Cold and detached, like I’m not talking about a female I planned on risking my life to save.
But if I let my rage off its leash right now, I won’t be riding for the camp.
I’ll turn Selveryn around, ride back into that capital, and butcher Brennan with my bare hands, and his king after him.
Serath turns back to Alleria without another word.
The light from her hands turns brighter, concentrating around Alleria’s throat. The worst of the bruising retreats, fading from black, to purple, and then to a sickly, jaundiced yellow. As the swelling reduces, the barely-there rasp of her breathing smooths into something deeper and steadier.
“That should be enough for us to move her.” Serath pushes to her feet, wiping rain from her face.
“I’ll take her.” I stand, and bend to gather Alleria up into my arms. She weighs next to nothing, her head rolling limply against my shoulder.
Selveryn kneels beside me. Therin steps forward to steady Alleria while I mount, and my steed rises smoothly beneath us.
I pull Alleria flush against my chest, locking one arm tight around her waist to keep her close. Once I’m certain she’s secure, I nod to the others.
“Let’s go.”
Caelum is standing outside my shelter when we arrive. He will have felt our approach through the Nightwild magic, but that doesn’t prepare him for the sight of Alleria when I dismount from Selveryn and carry her inside.
I lower her down onto the furs, my fingers brushing over her cheek before I catch myself and force myself to step back. Serath takes my place, and Caelum joins her. They exchange a few hushed words, then drop to their knees on either side of her motionless body.
I stand at the foot of the platform and watch them work. Separately, they’re the best healers I’ve ever known. Together, I’ve watched them bring fae back from the edge of death.
I need today to be one of those times.
Healing light spills from their hands, moving across Alleria’s body. Serath focuses on the torn flesh of her throat, completing the work she began in the clearing, while Caelum anchors his magic over her ribs.
Nobody speaks. Therin and Vel take positions on either side of me, and one by one the rest of the Guard arrive, falling into formation around me.
The only sound is the thunder and rain outside, broken now and then by the occasional murmur from Serath or Caelum.
My gaze stays fixed on Alleria. Color slowly returns to her skin, and the swelling around her eye is receding. Her lips part as she draws a deeper breath, her head turning against the furs.
“Stop.” Are my eyes playing tricks on me?
Caelum and Serath lift their heads. I lean forward, brushing the hair away from her ears. They’re changing. They were rounded before like every human’s, but now the cartilage is shifting, the top edge lengthening and curving upward into a point that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“Serath, what are you doing?”
“Healing her.”
“Then why is that happening?”
Serath’s gaze moves to where my finger hovers above Alleria’s ear.
“That isn’t me, Cairn.” She looks across at Caelum. “Is that you?”
Caelum shakes his head, his own eyes fixed on Alleria’s shifting features.
“Then why—”
“The magic seeks out all damage that has been done and corrects it.” Caelum says each word slowly. “It puts things back the way they’re supposed to be.”
The way they’re supposed to be.
I crouch, moving closer, and reach out to tip her face away from me to uncover her other ear. They’ve both changed. The points are delicate—distinct and unmistakable.
“Her eyes.” Vel has moved up to my shoulder, staring down at Alleria’s face. “The shape is changing.”
Caelum’s words echo inside my head.
It puts things back the way they’re supposed to be.
What does that mean? What is she supposed to be?