Chapter 33
A whimper spilled from my lips as I opened my eyes. “Fuck,” I croaked, blinking away the fog clouding my vision. Agony speared through my limbs, torso, and head from the small motion alone. My skull felt as if I’d taken a pounding from a giant fist. Repeatedly. For days.
The ground beyond me was hard, but my head was resting on something warm and soft, the only positive sensation I could perceive.
Against my will, a low groan escaped my throat. I wouldn’t even attempt to get up. Before my self-healing had at least dealt with the worst damage, I couldn’t consider moving at all.
“You were out for a few minutes.” Worry laced the words so softly spoken, and my pillow vibrated.
“What happened? Fuck, where’s my grandfather?
” Piece by piece, my memory returned, and after I’d taken a second to collect myself, I forced myself to analyze my surroundings.
This was still Galrach’s torture cavern, I could tell from the myriad of tiny sentient consciousnesses all around me.
The smell stuck in my nose was vile, like rot and decay, but my pillow was none other than Nayana, who’d cradled my head in her lap.
I liked that a lot, and I hoped, despite the pain, the moss, and the stench, I would never have to leave this kind of utopia ever again.
“He left amid maniacal laughter. What an assface.”
My tiny woman. She was so cute when she glowered and cursed.
Another groan echoed through the air, the sound alien—and embarrassing. “My recollection is a bit patchy. What happened after you’d unlocked the hematite?”
“Shh. Let me talk. After you’d disassembled almost the entire wall, you exploded like some sort of shadow bomb.
Those monsters—they were obliterated. One moment, they were closing in on us; the next, there was nothing of them left, but you continued to pour more and more darkness out.
Whatever protected your grandfather stood strong at first, but the barrier collapsed under the onslaught of your magic.
Your shadows engulfed Galrach, and I hoped—” Nayana shook her head in irritation.
If I had any control over my facial expression, I would have smiled. My morally clean female had almost admitted to wishing for someone’s death, and her developing murderous tendencies filled me with pride.
“Then you simply fainted. Your grandfather didn’t appear to be rattled or worried, but angry.
He hurried to you, and before you ask, yes, he fully ignored me.
Instead, he shouted some furious-sounding Galantian words I got no translation for and shook you while resembling a rabid animal.
He kicked you several times in the ribs, stared as if he was waiting for a reaction, then spun around and left. Ever since we’ve been alone.”
“Doesn’t matter now. Guess he’s disappointed we survived his little game.”
Her hand came into view, but before she touched my cheek, she withdrew. Gods, why?
“No, Dion. Don’t pout like that. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“There’s nothing you can do to make my condition worse. By all means—”
Instead of finishing the sentence, both of us noticed the inky strand emerge, which had adorned her thigh earlier. Naya smiled with fondness in her eyes as its tip curled around her wrist and directed her hand to my face until the warmth of her skin on mine elicited a sigh from my lips.
My peace didn’t last long.
Oh, fuck.
“Are you alright, Nayana? Did I pull too much at your Potential? Too hard?”
On the edge of my returning consciousness, I realized the absence of light around us. My attack must not only have killed all the monsters but also exterminated the moss. Huh.
Gods, then why did my skin still crawl under the scrutiny of their collective sentience? Was this some kind of weird phantom presence? Not unlike the pain people felt in the limbs they’d lost? Or was I going insane on top of everything?
“No. At first, the intensity came as a surprise, but I’m fine.”
My wonderful, strong Nayana. Her Potential had to run deep if she wasn’t even a little exhausted. Hm—if we wanted, we could conquer the worlds together. But since I wasn’t His Fucking Royal Majesty, the prospect held no appeal.
Getting rid of my grandfather, yes.
Ruling?
No, thank you. I didn’t need a position of power to know I was better than everyone else.
Relief crashed through me like a wave in an unruly ocean.
Adrenaline faded, and although it should have been impossible, the agony in my multitude of wounds intensified with a vengeance. But I’d endure every discomfort as long as Nayana was in one piece. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m only heated up from your urgent pulling. And worried about you. We should get you back to your room. And fetch Ireas to have a look at your damages.”
Her concern did peculiar things to me, and in an attempt to ease her mind, I dragged the corners of my mouth up. “Yes, let’s get back. But we won’t involve Ireas or any other medic. Even though my condition seems bad, don’t forget I’m fae and heal much faster than you would.”
“Then at least take some more Potential to speed up your recovery.”
“Wouldn’t work. Innate traits of my species behave differently than elemental magic.”
Getting to my feet was maybe the biggest success I’d achieved lately.
One of my legs was stubbornly uncooperative after the Wailos had treated my thigh like a chew toy.
Also, I was quite sure that my hip had at a minimum one splintered bone, and my neck was stiff—but since I’d almost broken my spine, I couldn’t complain.
Blood pounded in my ears, and my head pulsed in painful waves with every beat of my heart. And although the affliction of the rot wasn’t all-encompassing anymore, the magical decay was clinging to some of my open wounds. How fun would it be if I didn’t properly heal until the ball in two days?
The idea sounded tempting, but the gods only knew what Galrach would do to me in that scenario.
Also, I’d been in enough situations akin to this one, and with some balm and rest, everything external would be gone by tomorrow.
In case of the rotten injuries, a day longer, and only time would tell how long I’d carry the lingering agony with me.
Nayana climbed under my shoulder, huffing in frustration. Oh, did she—
Yes, she wanted to support me. Had she forgotten how tiny she was?
Warm fondness trickled through my chest, and I pretended to lean on her as we slowly made our way back to my quarters.
Knowing her, she’d oppose me on my no-medic decree, but I’d deal with her ire. What counted most was that both of us had survived.
When Dion and I returned to his suite, the prince didn’t even fight against my edict that I’d take care of him and the numerous injuries marring his skin.
Whatever the monsters and Galrach had done hadn’t only caused heavy bleeding.
No, some wounds showed clear signs of necrosis.
Blackened flesh was ringed by angry red, inflamed skin, and dips and valleys were surrounded by pus.
Pure willpower alone prevented me from gagging—or worse.
How could he heal this? Large parts of his exposed flesh were beyond rescue by human standards. One of his thighs was missing a good chunk of muscle—no, seeing had to be enough; thinking about the damage went too far.
And smelling. The stench wafting from Dion was vile and rotten, almost corpse-like. And after he’d collapsed on his bed, I checked his vitals in panic more than once because he was unresponsive.
A persistent voice in my head yelled at me to fetch Ireas, although this was against the prince’s wishes. Our friend was a medic, after all.
But I simply couldn’t leave Dion alone. Not in this state.
I was utterly out of my depth, but doing nothing would drive me insane even faster, so I dashed to the bag I’d brought from Ivreia, rummaged for the little container holding the balm Ireas had given me for my various cuts and bruises, and although I didn’t believe one bit that the medication was potent enough to be of any help, at least applying the minty mixture shouldn’t worsen the fae’s condition. Hopefully.
In record time, I raced to the bathing chamber, washed my hands twice, and returned to Dion.
Was I mistaken, or had his pulse gotten stronger?
Gods, please, this couldn’t be just wishful thinking.
Unscrewing the lid of the container and dipping my finger into the cool balm, I gathered my composure. I took a tiny dot out and smeared the cream under my nose, hoping the clean scent would at least battle the rotten stench a little.
My fingers twitched at the thought of touching the blackened, bleeding mess all over Dion’s body, but I scolded myself. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I cautiously cleared the tatters of his tunic from his back and, as soft as a breeze, spread the mixture over his skin.
To my astonishment, the gashes that didn’t show signs of necrosis were already closing themselves in front of my eyes—undoubtedly, this was thanks to the speedy self-healing fae possessed—so I concentrated on the wounds that didn’t seem to recover on their own.
And most likely wouldn’t. Oh, shut up, pessimist Nayana Garnet Ortha.
Another one of those groans full of pain and misery filled the room, and I yanked my hand back as if I’d burned myself. “I’m sorry, Dion. But I—I have no idea how else to help you.”
Out of focus, dull amethyst eyes met mine. “Just…go on. It’s not…the first time.”
Hesitating still, my heart clenched at the sight of this normally so proud male broken and in agony, and I wondered who usually took care of him after such an episode.
Knowing him, he didn’t allow anyone to witness his pitiful state, not even a healer or medic.
If he didn’t want Ireas to tend to him, he wouldn’t accept anyone’s aid, and not even I could sway him.
My question was answered much faster than anticipated as my inky tendril unfurled half of its length and dipped its tip into the container, gathering some balm.
“Shush.” I glowered at the pesky strand, swatting it away, and took the substance off with my own hand, spreading the remedy cautiously once more. The magical construct didn’t seem fazed as it curled back around me.
“We have to turn you to the other side.”
“Yes.”
My heart splintered into a million pieces at his pained voice and then some more when we painstakingly and slowly moved him onto his back.
“You know…if I’d guessed…that all it takes for you to put your hands on me is to be wounded, I would have jumped in harm’s way much earlier.”
“Ha, hilarious, princeling. Be quiet.” A giant boulder fell from my chest as Dion joked. Although he sounded weak and mangled, he was at least lucid enough not only to talk but also to try to be funny.
“I’ll mend soon.”
“I hope so.”
“It’s not the first time, Naya.”
“That doesn’t make anything better.” My jaw locked.
How could the High King treat his grandson so horribly? And why would Dion allow him again and again?
The urge to push him for answers was strong, but the lines on his face whenever I came into contact with his skin stopped me. Recovering was most important, planning for the future could wait.
“Again, at the latest, the day after tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. I’m healing fast, even when Galrach uses his magic like today.”
“So that’s why some of your wounds look worse, and some have already vanished?”
“Yes. He has some shrewd facets for an earth Wielder. Withering alive and dead matter. And his magic is powerful. His talent’s only problem, in his eyes, is that the effects are strongest on single targets.”
Awful powers indeed.
Swallowing, I hoped Dion’s sensitive nose wasn’t too bothered in the grand scheme of things. Quickly, I freed a tiny drop from the container and applied the balm above his Cupid’s bow as well. His gaze caught mine, gleaming so thankful my heart clenched.
“I should have washed you first before using the ointment.”
“No, it’s fine. You did everything exactly as it’s best. Let me nap for an hour or two, then I’ll have improved enough to take a shower.”
Finally, the willingness to believe him took hold of me, mainly because I could see how the telltale glow returned to his eyes, how his muscles relaxed, and the more he recuperated, the more the iron fist, which had my heart in a chokehold, slackened in equal measure.
He would recover soon, as he’d promised. He had to.
“Alright. However, I’ll stay at your side.”
“But I stink.”
“So what? I don’t give a damn.” With what I hoped was a strict glare, I settled down next to him on the bed, grabbed his hand, and slid as close to him as I dared.
Sure, I came to rest on the fresh bloodstains and all the other body fluids I’d rather not dwell on that had seeped into the linens, but I didn’t care.
If my presence gave Dion comfort, I should be damned if something as unimportant as hygiene kept me from being there for my friend who needed me. Tugging at his fingers, I nestled his hand under my chin and smiled. “Take your nap. I’m here.”
“Don’t get too used to this role reversal.”
“Sleep, princeling.”
The only answer I got was a low chuckle, and once Dion’s breath had deepened and he’d succumbed to his exhaustion, I allowed the tremble to take over my body, which had threatened to break out since we’d met with Galrach.
Because no matter how much I was pretending to be brave, the truth was quite different.
I was in too deep and could only hope I would be able to stay afloat.