Chapter 18 #2
My gaze flicks to Rian, spotting his broad back just before he ducks into his dark tent.
I frown. Well, that was abrupt.
Shaking off the rudeness of his departure, I crouch, slip off my flimsy flats, and pull on the boots.
A perfect fit.
I smile.
Boots are a rare commodity in Verdanthia, given to soldiers and miners and others whose occupation warrants them. A healer who treks across town several times a day doesn’t count.
“Elara.”
I look up. Ferria and Jaxon have stopped sparring. The latter speaks with Draven, their postures tense.
“Let’s go,” she calls.
“Coming!”
I tie the boots’ laces and stand, assessing the fit as I walk. My grin grows. They’re comfortable, as if they’ve already been broken in, but they look brand new.
Draven stomps away, and Jaxon and Ferria move toward the tree line. I pick up my pace, the damp earth barely muffling my heavy bootsteps. That’ll take getting used to.
“Nice boots,” Ferria quips as we step onto the paved path leading back to town.
Jaxon dropped us off on the western side this time, making our trek home just a little longer.
“Thanks.” I admire the pristine leather with a grin. “Think the Elders will try to confiscate them?”
“They can try, but something tells me the Fae who gifted them to you will have something to say about that.”
Good point.
I smile in triumph.
We walk in silence for a few steps. Ferria glances at me, her curly ponytail swinging gently with each stride.
“What’s going on with Rian?” she asks, too casually.
I forget to pick up my heavy boot and stumble. “W-what do you mean?”
She levels me with a look that says don’t play dumb with me.
I stare at the path ahead and mutter, “Nothing’s going on.”
“Is that why he looked ready to strangle Captain Steelvice at the tavern the other night?”
“That was—”
“Or why he turned into a shadowy mass reeking of death and destruction when he saw your injuries after the beasts attacked?”
My heart skips a beat. “He didn’t—”
“He did.” Her stare is unrelenting.
I bite my lip, ignoring how my pulse skitters at the thought of Rian being concerned for me.
I’m already unhealthily attracted to him. I can’t add reading into his reactions to my list of troubles.
“Lev’s noticed something, too.”
I whip my head around. “Lev?”
She nods.
“What are you talking about?”
“Lev came by the forge yesterday to ask me about what’s going on with you. I wasn’t there, but Anton said Lev was pretty agitated to hear we were both at the Fae camp.”
And the fact he couldn’t travel to the camp to speak with me likely chapped his ass.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Ferria smirks. “If you say so.”
Laughter and chatter sound from homes we pass, families gathering for their evening meal before venturing to the market to enjoy the evening festivities before those from neighboring towns arrive tomorrow. Then the real fun begins.
Not that I expect I’ll have much leave to enjoy any of it.
I use the pause in conversation and change the subject. “Are you falling behind on General Ironheart’s order by coming to the camp with me?”
She shakes her head. “Anton has it covered. Though, I won’t be coming to the camp with you tomorrow. I need to give Anton a break.”
Disappointment nips at me, but warmth rushes in behind it.
“Thank you,” I say. “For coming with me these past couple of days.”
“Please. You couldn’t have kept me away.” She grins, eyes sparkling. “I’ll never give up an opportunity to learn Fae secrets.”
I laugh softly, the tension in my shoulders easing.
Even with all the strangeness in my life: my power, the Fae games I don’t fully understand, Ferria's support and bravery ground me. And now, with Rian’s promise to help me use the Fae book, my hope of success roars to life once more.
I can fulfill my deal with the Fae. I can use my magic to help Darius. And I can save Verdanthia from the Fae’s wrath.
I just need a little time.
I’m sure of it.
I wake before the sun, my limbs heavy and my head clouded with exhaustion. Every muscle protests as I swing my legs over the end of my lumpy mattress, but there’s no time to indulge the ache blooming beneath my skin.
I’ve been neglecting patients, and I need to check on a few before one of the Fae comes to collect me today.
The morning air is still, the kind of hush that clings just before dawn. I braid my hair with slow, stiff fingers and slip out into the quiet streets with my satchel flung over my shoulder.
A peek inside confirms I’m low on bandages. I’ll stop by the healing wing at the barracks to up my supplies before I go. Just in case.
I make it through town without seeing a single soul.
That’s not the worst thing. Word of what happened at the tavern has spread. Now my neighbors' wariness around me is greater than ever.
Nevertheless, I’ll make house calls for my most vulnerable patients. If they deny me entrance because of my association with the Fae, that’s their choice. But it’s my responsibility to try and care for them.
Resolved, I shake off my lingering fatigue and run through the mental list of who I need to see today and who can wait until tomorrow.
The list flits away on the breeze when I turn the barracks’ corner and see a slumped form propped against the wall.
I blink in shock, then rush forward and drop to my knees. The smell of copper and sweat hits my nostrils as I reach for the man’s pulse.
His face is swollen with one eye sealed shut, blood crusted along his temple and jaw. Purple bruises bloom across his bare arms. His breath comes in shallow, ragged pulls.
Despite his state, there’s no denying who he is.
“Gods.” My voice trembles, just like my hands. “What happened to you?”
But I already know. Deep down, I’ve known since I saw him.
Fief’s good eye flutters open. For a moment, he stares at me. Then fear floods his face, sharp and unfiltered. His body slumps sideways, a feeble attempt to put space between us. Like I’m the danger. Like I did this to him.
Maybe I did.
Because the moment the Fae heard his name—heard he harmed his wife—he was a marked man.
And I don’t know what unsettles me more. What the powerful males did to him…
Or the part of me that believes he deserved it.