Chapter Eleven Riela
Chapter Eleven
Riela
Creating a plate was easier than creating a plate with food on it. By the time I could semi-reliably do both, it was well
into the afternoon, but even then, there were only a handful of foods that I could actually conjure, and all of them took
about a hundred times longer than they should’ve, if Garrick’s example was anything to go by.
Plain toast was relatively easy, but the jam made it more difficult. Porridge I could do, but summoning it in a bowl was still iffy. The kitchen table looked like a disaster because I didn’t know how to magically clean up, so it was just
a stack of dirty plates and bowls.
At least I wouldn’t have to conjure more anytime soon.
And while Grim wandered in and out of the kitchen at regular intervals, I didn’t see the Silver King at all, though I felt
occasional pulses of his magic.
I had just successfully summoned my first sticky bun and was about to take a bite when the kitchen door rattled with a heavy
knock. I frowned and returned the treat to its plate. If someone had crossed the bridge to get here, why hadn’t they used
the front door? Maybe Garrick had supplies shipped in to supplement what the castle provided. But if the forest was so dangerous,
then who would take such a job?
I stood and started for the door, but Grim materialized from a curl of black mist, his hackles raised. He growled at the door,
and I backed away. I didn’t want any part of something that made a magical wolf nervous.
“Please, help,” a woman’s voice called from outside. “My daughter is hurt! I need a healer.”
I paused, uncertain. Maybe Grim just didn’t like strangers. If he didn’t want them inside, then I could at least go out and offer what aid I could. I moved toward the door, but Grim blocked my way. When I tried to push past him, he growled low in his throat, flashing his teeth.
“Please, she’s dying,” the woman called.
“I have to help,” I told Grim, “but I won’t let her in, I promise.”
The wolf did not move.
The latch of the door rattled, and Grim grew in size, his growl deep and threatening. I reached out with my magic and found
a seething purple vortex just outside the door. That seemed . . . bad.
I wished I still had my dagger, but I hadn’t returned to my room after breakfast. Maybe the castle could help me. I pictured
the dagger and tried to gift the castle some magic.
Nothing happened.
The latch rose and it shocked me out of stillness. “Move!” I shouted at Grim as I shoved the heavy table toward the door.
I was too late.
The door cracked open and a bony, clawed hand reached through the gap. “Save my daughter,” the woman called through the opening.
“Give me life.”
I shoved the table against the door, preventing it from opening farther.
The woman, creature, monster hissed in pain, but the arm didn’t retreat.
And whatever it was on the other side of the door, it was strong.
The table slid back as the door opened wider, despite the fact that I was pushing against it as hard as I could.
Grim snarled and lunged, sinking his fangs into the creature’s flesh. An unearthly howl rose, and her arm twisted, raking
claws into Grim’s thick pelt.
“No!” I shouted.
The moment of distraction was all she needed.
The monster shoved the door open, and the table slammed into my hip.
Pain jolted down my thigh, but I didn’t have time to focus on it.
Long, matted gray hair covered a head that was vaguely human-shaped, if humans had two extra sets of razor-sharp teeth in a mouth that gaped too wide.
Her skin was milky pale and so thin it was nearly translucent.
Her black eyes locked on me as she ignored the furious wolf still gnawing on her arm. “Give me life,” she crooned.
“No. Please leave.”
She stepped closer, dragging Grim with her. The wolf grew in size, a growl rumbling in his throat. The monster turned and
almost casually raked her claws through his pelt again.
I didn’t know how to fight with magic, and the castle refused to give me a dagger, but I already had a handy stack of plates,
so I grabbed the pile and threw a plate at the monster’s head.
It shattered against her skull, and she howled in outrage, but the damage was superficial. At least she’d stopped attacking
Grim.
Of course, now she was stalking me, so that wasn’t exactly an improvement, but judging by the dark blood dripping onto the floor, Grim needed help more than
I did right this second.
I darted back, aiming for the door leading into the rest of the castle, tossing plates as I went. Surely a castle had an armory,
right? I just needed to stay alive long enough to find it.
A long arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me from the ground. I instinctively slammed my elbow back, and Garrick snapped,
“Stop fighting. It’s me.”
He swept me around behind him, then turned to face the monster in the kitchen. Magic sparked and a long sword appeared in
his left hand.
“Give me the woman,” the monster crooned.
“She’s not mine to give,” Garrick replied. “And it doesn’t look like she wants to go with you.”
“Then I will take her, broken king, and you will die.”
The monster lunged, all claws and teeth. Magic rose and Garrick stepped into her path, sword first. I gripped my last two
plates with tense fingers.
The monster tried to herd Garrick to the edge of the room so she could lunge at me, but the mage was onto her tricks. Her claws rang against his sword as he deflected another attack with apparent ease.
Then, quick as a thought, the monster turned and reached for Grim. The plate was in the air before I realized I’d thrown it,
but then Garrick was there, too, and I shouted a warning.
The plate disappeared with a pulse of moonlit magic, but Garrick’s attention was momentarily split, and the monster took advantage.
Her claws raked over his side with vicious intent and the sound of rending fabric filled the room. The mage grunted and brought
his sword down on the offending limb, slicing it from her body with what had to be magical assistance.
The monster let out a piercing wail that grew and grew until my ears felt like they were bleeding. Garrick’s sword flashed
and the wail abruptly cut off.
The monster hit the floor, missing its head, but Garrick ignored it. His sword disappeared, then he moved to Grim and magic
rose. The wolf whined, and Garrick ran a soothing hand over his shoulder. “Just a bit more,” he murmured.
The magic peaked and then fell. Grim shook himself, and Garrick pointed at the open door. “Go wash off in the lake while I
deal with the mess in here.”
After the wolf had retreated through the door, Garrick turned to me. “Are you injured?” When I didn’t respond fast enough,
he crossed the space and pulled the last plate from my numb fingers. He scowled at me. “Why were you throwing plates?”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” I trailed off at his deepening scowl. “Grim was getting attacked, and plates were the
only thing I had.”
Garrick shook his head, expression forbidding. “Grim was doing his job and defending until I arrived. He didn’t need your
help. In fact, it would’ve been far better if you hadn’t opened the door in the first place.”
My vigorous defense of my plate strategy died as I switched topics.
“I didn’t.” I held up my hands. “I was going to, because she sounded like a woman who needed help, but then Grim started growling and refused to let me close. She opened the door on her own. I wedged the table against it to try to keep her out, but she was too strong.”
“The castle’s protections are weakened,” Garrick murmured, more to himself than to me. His attention flickered my way, and
I had a pretty good guess as to why the protection was weakened.
“Should I leave?” I asked, forcing the words past my tight throat. If he turned me out, and I couldn’t leave the forest, I
didn’t know what I’d do, especially if the Blood King found me.
Die, probably, and not well.
Garrick grunted. “No. I just need to reinforce the charms. I should’ve done it last night.”
“Before you do that, let me look at your side.”
“I’m fine,” he said, waving away my concern.
My brows rose. “You’re bleeding.”
Garrick frowned at his side as if it had personally offended him by being made of flesh and blood. “So I am.”
“It’s my fault, so I’ll heal it for you, if you show me how.” I cut him off before he could object. “You’re going to need
your magic for the charms, right? And that’s also my fault. Let me do this for you.”
“Healing is tricky magic. It’s not something you can learn in five minutes.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, but it felt like an attack. I ducked my head. Untrained, I had very little to offer him in return
for shelter, food, and protection. I hadn’t had much in the village, but I’d always managed to scrape by. But what could I
offer an Etheri king?
And how long would it be before he decided I was a liability—one he should eliminate?
Garrick’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “You cannot heal me, but if you could bandage my side, I would appreciate
it.” He gestured to the bandages and salve he must’ve created with magic.
I nodded, then filled a clean, unbroken bowl with water from the tap. “Could I have a clean rag, please?” I asked the castle.
A stack appeared next to the washbasin. Garrick crossed the room and picked one up with a frown. “This should not be possible.”
“More or less impossible than a cursed forest, two Etheri kings, and whatever that is?” I asked, pointing at the corpse on
the floor.
“That’s a lua,” Garrick said absently. With a wave and a pulse of magic, the room was magically set to rights. The corpse
disappeared, the table returned to its correct position, and all of the plates and bowls I’d created—along with all of the
shattered pieces—vanished.
Only the bandages and salve remained on the pristine table. I carried my bowl of water over, then grabbed a rag and squinted
at Garrick, who hadn’t moved.
“You’ll need to lift your tunic,” I said at last. “Or I can cut it off, if you give me a knife.”
Garrick didn’t move, but something ancient and feral lurked in his gaze, judging my trustworthiness. I was trapped under the
weight of that stare, frozen in place until he blinked.
Whatever the test was, I had apparently failed, because he gripped the torn edges of his tunic and ripped it apart from hem
to armpit. I had no time to worry about what the failure might mean because the gaping fabric revealed three deep cuts that
arced over his side from his back to his lower abdomen. His pale skin was painted red with blood, and the wounds wept more
with each passing second.
“By the saints,” I breathed, “how are you standing?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I used the damp cloth to carefully clean
the wounds, then pressed it to his side. “Hold this,” I demanded. “Press tight.”
Once his hand was in place, I glanced up at him. “If you were human, these would need to be stitched. I can do it, but it
will be unpleasant. Will you mend without it?”
His mouth flattened. “The salve will be enough until I can heal it.”
Red was already bleeding through the cloth under his fingers. I frowned. “Perhaps you should heal yourself first, then fix the protections later.”
“I will have time to heal once the castle is secure. Please continue.”
I shook my head at his stubbornness, but I dutifully picked up the jar of salve. It was heavier than I’d expected, and the
salve itself was thick and greasy. It smelled like the morning after a hard freeze, cool and crisp, with just a hint of winter
mint. It made my fingertips tingle.
I put the jar back on the table and gestured Garrick closer. The cloth was almost entirely red. I carefully peeled it away
from his skin, but the wounds were still bleeding. I grabbed a new rag and pressed it against the lower two gouges while I
gently swiped salve into the top cut.
Garrick’s body locked as his muscles clenched, but he didn’t make a single sound. I gathered more salve and continued, but
the bleeding didn’t slow. Fuck. How much blood could he lose before it became a problem?
And what would I do if he passed out and another lua attacked?
I sighed and straightened. “You’re going to have to heal yourself,” I said. I held up my bloody fingers when he would’ve objected.
“You’re losing too much blood. I will give you the magic to do it, so you’ll still be able to fix the charms.”
Garrick’s face could’ve been carved from stone for all the emotion he showed. “You were hurt when I drew your magic. Bandage
me and be done.”
“I was not expecting it before. This time will be different. Stop stalling.” I gathered my magic and tried to give it to him,
but since I didn’t know what I was doing, nothing happened. I tried again, clumsily prodding at him with a ribbon of blue
magic, but still nothing.
When I glared at him and pointedly pressed a little harder on his still-bleeding side, he finally nodded and pulled on the
thread of magic I’d offered him.
I swallowed a pained gasp. It was not different this time.
Or not much different, at least. My magic didn’t try to protect me, since I was giving it freely, but my chest ached, and it took all of my concentration to keep my expression placid.
By the time the first cut had healed, I was lightheaded with pain, but I bowed my head, clenched my free hand behind my back,
and held my ground. He’d been injured defending me. This was the least I could do in return.
Pain and exhaustion combined to muffle the world around me. My vision narrowed, until I could only see the floor between us,
and I focused on each tiny swirl in the stone to distract myself.
My heartbeat was loud in my ears, but it remained steady and strong despite the fact that it felt like my chest had been hollowed
out with rusty spoons and filled with boiling oil.
Time lost all meaning, but eventually, the pain lessened. I forced my thick, clumsy tongue to form words and whispered, “Are
you finished?”
“Yes,” Garrick’s voice rumbled from somewhere far away.
“Oh, good,” I murmured. Then I let myself tumble into darkness.