18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
LYRIELLE
I’d been sewing mourning clothing for his mother. That was what I’d been doing.
I wanted to tell him everything, especially about Harlan and the revelation about his origins.
Actually, what I really wanted was to go back to kissing him.
I wanted to talk about this new feeling between us and just take a moment to be.
I wanted to revel in the fact that he’d called me his love.
But all that black fabric I’d been sewing needed to be addressed first. Tavric was drowning under the weight of the throne, and there was one very important thing that I could do to relieve him of that burden.
“I’ll happily tell you about my days, but will you take me to see your father first?”
Confusion pinched his eyes. “Why?”
“Please, Tav?”
My use of his nickname softened him immediately. “Very well.” He took my hand and led me to the door, still in his trousers and shirt. No vest or jacket. It was a stark contrast to the formal costume he’d worn earlier. I greatly preferred him this way.
He didn’t drop my hand as we traversed the hallway. “You can check in on my father. It’s time I did the same anyway. But once you’ve seen him, I want to know everything that is on your mind.” He cut his eyes over to me.
“You can know it all.” I wanted nothing more, but it was time for me to heal Tav’s father.
We reached the door to the king and queen’s chamber and Tavric stopped, taking a moment to collect himself. Then he nodded to the guard, who opened the door.
The room still held the oppressive weight of illness and hopelessness. The queen lay fully clothed beside the king, her hand holding his and her face pressed into his shoulder.
Tavric stepped over to the doctor, who was close at hand. “Is she sleeping?” he asked.
“Yes, and she should not be woken if it can be avoided.”
“Of course,” Tav agreed.
“She was up most of the night worrying about him.” The doctor pressed his lips, his brow furrowed. “He is not doing well, Your Highness.”
Tavric swallowed but nodded. “Will you leave us for a moment?”
The doctor bowed his head and left immediately.
That was good. I didn’t want anyone but Tavric to see this.
Instead of walking straight over to the king’s bed, he hesitated. I could see the toll that seeing his father this way took on him, and I hated myself a little for letting his pain go on for so long.
“Do you ever wish you’d known about my power when you pulled me from the sea?” I asked in a guilty whisper.
“Why would I wish that?”
“If my hair hadn’t been cut, I could have healed your father.”
“If I hadn’t cut your hair, you would have drowned,” he stated.
“So you’ve never thought about it?” I found that hard to believe.
He gave me a grim smile. “Of course I thought about it when you first told me about your gift, but it was more like a fanciful thought than a real lament. The idea that he could be healed by magic is such a foreign one, and your gift was gone long before I knew anything about it.”
“What about now? What if I still had my gift?”
“What ifs are useless. I’m grateful I met you, and that has nothing to do with your powers.
” His eyes slid in the direction of his father, sadness pulling at the corners of his eyes.
“Besides, he’s been doing better lately.
My brothers think I’m foolish to hope, but I can’t help it.
There’s still a chance he’ll pull through. ”
I swallowed hard and tamped down my nerves. “He will.”
He nodded, but a heavy hopelessness tugged at the corners of his eyes. “I truly hope so.”
“No, Tavric. I mean…” I pulled my hand from his and walked over to stand at the king’s side, then reached out my hand to take King Valtren’s hand, placing my other hand on his chest before looking back at Tavric. “He will,” I promised.
Closing my eyes, I started to sing. Heat rushed to my hands, and I allowed the full strength of my magic to gently flow into the king’s body.
This time, I didn’t hold back. I didn’t heal a little here and a little there.
Instead, I urged the healing magic to saturate his lungs, to strengthen his heart, to burn off any infection.
It was arduous work. There was so much that needed repair, and I was determined to heal him fully and completely. I willed more magic to pour from my hands, repairing damaged tissue—not because it was expected of me, but because I wanted to.
TAVRIC
I was entranced once again by her song. It was so beautiful, but on top of that, the way she held my father’s hand with such tenderness and strength brought a surge of affection and gratitude into my chest for this marvelous woman who had somehow found her way into my life.
Emotion washed over me as I watched, my eyes transfixed on her lashes as they rested on the curve of her cheeks, fascinated by the way her lips moved as the soft cushion of her voice filled the air. It was incredible, the way the air seemed to clear and lighten just by the sound of her voice.
Then my eyes went to her hand that rested on my father’s chest, right over his heart, and I stopped breathing.
There was a glow under her palm. I squinted, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and stepped closer. It was there, I was sure of it. Pale golden light was emanating from underneath her hand.
Was she…?
As my father pulled in a full deep breath, the truth hit me. Lyri was healing my father.
She could still heal? When and how? For how long?
Tentative joy surged within me as my father’s face became less pale. I still couldn’t breathe. She was doing it. Lyri was healing my father. Perhaps he would live. Perhaps she would be able to save him. A terrifying rush of hope bloomed within me.
I looked at Lyri’s face, overwhelmed with gratitude and wanting to drink in her beauty and sweetness, but instead my heart sank.
It was like all the color that had been infused into my father’s skin was being slowly drained from Lyri’s. She looked pale, almost gray, and her whole body looked like she was being dragged down.
“Lyri, stop,” I said, reaching out to touch her shoulder but worried that I’d cause more harm than good if I acted too rashly. Perhaps it was normal and nothing to worry about.
She ignored me and kept singing.
But then her voice wavered, becoming weak and breathy.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her away from my father.
Her song cut off and she immediately went limp in my arms. I sank to the ground beside my father’s bed with her draped across my lap, wondering what had gone wrong.
She’d never said anything about her healing taking a physical toll on her.
Had she just kept that to herself? Or were things different since I’d cut her hair?
I had no idea. I didn’t know how magic worked!
I pushed her hair back and cupped her cheek. “Lyri?”
Thankfully, her eyes fluttered open and managed to focus on me. “I was healing him,” she breathed out, her eyes blinking slowly.
“Yes, but at what cost?” Her skin was cold and her limp weight was heavy in my arms. It was terrifying. “It was too much for you.”
“It was worth it,” she murmured, and then her eyes drifted closed.
Panic surged through me. “Lyri!” I shook her a little, my panic rising to cloud my vision. “No, no, no. Lyri, wake up!”
When she still didn’t respond, I ignored my labored breathing and shifted her until I was able to stand with her in my arms. “Help!” I shouted. “I need help in here.”
“What’s going on?” my mother asked as she sat up, eyes still clouded with sleep, but I didn’t have time to answer.
Several guards, a doctor, and a nurse all poured into the room.
“Check on my father,” I ordered the doctor. “And you, come here,” I said to the nurse as I moved Lyri out of the way and laid her on the floor. “She collapsed and I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
The nurse spared only one glance toward the king before focusing her attention on Lyri. My focus was split between the frantic energy surrounding my father’s bed and the desperate fear that Lyri’s collapse caused in me.
Not knowing what was wrong with her was eating away at my insides, and there was nothing I could do to help.
Was it her magic? Did it always drain her like this?
The nurse was efficient and professional, and after several minutes, she looked down on Lyri in confusion. “I cannot find anything wrong with her, Your Highness.”
“Nothing?”
She shook her head. “Her heartbeat is strong, her breathing regular. She has no injuries, swelling, or rashes. I believe if we wait, she will wake on her own.”
Relief washed through me. “Very well. Tend to the king.”
She hurried away, and just as my panic started to rise again, someone knelt beside me.
“I’m here, Your Highness.”
I looked up, relieved to see Harlan at my side.
“I don’t know how to help her, Harlan.” I looked over my shoulder at the bed.
“And my father…” I wanted to check on him, to see for myself if his condition had really changed, but Lyri…
I looked back at her, watching her chest rise and fall.
The nurse had said there was nothing wrong with her. Was it just fatigue from healing?
“Go check on the king,” Harlan urged me. “I’ll watch over her.”
I looked back at the bed, where my mother and the doctors all surrounded my father. My mother’s shouts of confusion and worry tore at me.
“Go.” He rested a hand on my arm and fixed his gaze to mine. “She’ll be all right for a moment.”
I hated doing it, but I carefully shifted her head from my arm to his, beckoned by my mother’s frantic cries. “I’ll only be a moment.”
“I know.”
I stood, giving Lyri one last lingering look, noticing that her face seemed perhaps a little less pale, and then ran over to my father’s side, pushing my way in between a doctor and a guard until I was able to see him for myself.