Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
“The burns are largely superficial, but there’s significant crush damage to her throat, and she inhaled more than a little smoke.”
“But she’ll survive?” Garrick Shaw didn’t look at the blue-robed healer as he spoke, his attention fixed on the nervous apprentice spreading salve over the angry red burns on his son’s forearms.
Burns Jaxon had gotten pulling her out of the flames.
Araya shivered, pulling the thin linen robe they’d wrapped her in tighter around her body. Every breath scraped out of her throat in a pained wheeze, those superficial burns throbbing dully under the cooling salve the healers had slathered her in before carefully draping each one in damp linen.
“She’ll live.” The healer’s mouth twisted, his brow furrowing. “But we need to keep her here for observation. Between the smoke inhalation and the bruising to her ribs and throat, she’s likely to have difficulty breathing—”
“No,” Jaxon said, his voice sharp enough to make the apprentice tending to him flinch. “She’ll recover better under my supervision.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Commander.” The healer snapped his folder closed. “I signed off on controlled interrogation, not setting her on fire. I will not release her to your custody until I’m certain she’ll survive it.”
Jaxon scowled. “Father—”
“It sounds reasonable to me, Jaxon,” Garrick said, his voice cool. “Master Hayes is highly regarded, and this is his area of focus. I don’t recall you doing well in your healing circuit.”
Jaxon flushed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“What about the forest?” he argued. “Those vines came out of nowhere. If they could reach her there they could reach her here.”
“We have protocols in place for that, sir,” Master Hayes said, looking at Garrick instead of Jaxon. “Protocols that don’t result in the near-death of an important Arcanum asset. We are more than capable of keeping her safe.”
“I have the utmost faith in you and your team, Master Hayes.” Garrick straightened. “If you’ll allow me a moment to speak with my son and his bond, we’ll leave you to your work.”
“Of course, sir.”
The healer thumped his fist against his chest, motioning for his apprentice to follow. The tent quieted as they withdrew, the noises of the camp beyond the canvas muted by layers upon layers of runes.
Leaving Araya alone with the Shaws.
“Father—” Jaxon started, his voice plaintive. “This is unreasonable—”
“Is it, Jaxon?” Garrick’s gaze raked over Araya, the thin linen robe no defense against his judgement.
“I’m looking at your bond—the bond you begged me to acquire for you—burned and bleeding.
I’m hearing healers—mages I respect—tell me that they advised you to ease up on her treatment. Yet here we stand.”
“It was Caylin’s fault,” Jaxon snapped. “I would have seen them if she hadn’t been arguing with me. She’s always hated Araya. She’s the worst person for this job.”
Garrick shook his head, his expression twisting.
“You’re acting like a child, Jaxon. You can’t blame all your failures on the Pryce girl.
You know better than to let your guard down here.
” He sighed heavily. “Your obsession with Miss Starwind isn’t something many human women will be able to stomach, Jaxon.
Deal with it. And decide what story you’re going to tell Kai Sterling about what happened here, because he’ll be arriving with the next supply caravan. ”
“Kai?” Jaxon stiffened. “Why is he coming now? He’s not a soldier.”
“Neither are you, apparently,” Garrick snapped. “His father arranged it so he could continue his research. Or maybe Master Sterling thinks his best friend is fucking his paramour.”
“It’s not my fault she throws herself at me,” Jaxon said petulantly. “And they haven’t been together since Eluneth—”
“I do not care,” Garrick said flatly. “Say goodbye to Miss Starwind, Jaxon, and go fix your mess.”
He strode out without another word, the canvas flap falling shut behind him. The tent fell quiet, the healer and his apprentice filing back in and making themselves busy as Jaxon stared after his father, his jaw working.
“Gods.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing ash across his skin. “This is all your fault, Starling. If you weren’t so fucking stubborn—” he shook his head. “Do you have any concept of what almost happened to you?”
She couldn’t have answered him if she wanted to, but Jaxon didn’t seem to care for once. He crossed the tent to stand in front of her, studying the marks on her skin with something that looked almost like guilt. But Jaxon never felt guilty for anything.
“Those weren’t just vines,” he continued. “That was wild magic—the same wild magic that haunts the forest. It’s old. Powerful.” His jaw flexed. “It would have killed you.”
And she would have let it. Araya wrapped her arms around herself, shielding herself from his gaze. Maybe it would be better that way. There would be no more pain—but she would never see Loren again. At least if she lived there was a chance she would—hopefully not in a neighboring cell.
Jaxon exhaled slowly, reaching out and taking her hands in his.
“I know you can’t talk,” he said, his voice softer now.
“And I know you’re upset about what Caylin has done—what I let her do.
” His thumb rubbed a slow, soothing circle over the back of her hand.
“I was angry, Starling. But I’m going to sort this out.
All of it. Caylin. Loren—” his mouth twisted around her mate’s name.
“Every loose end. I promise. Everything is going to be alright.”
Araya was suddenly grateful no one expected her to speak.
There was nothing she could have said to that—not without screaming or weeping.
He believed it. He really believed that if he just kept her close, she would fall back into line.
Back into her role as his devoted bond. That she would give him her magic. Her body. Her children—
“Just rest,” Jaxon continued, squeezing her hands gently. “Get better. I’ll handle the rest.”
The apprentice who had treated her burns came over as soon as he left, leading her to a cot tucked away in the back of the long tent. She looked away as Araya let the robe fall, pulling the loose linen shift they’d given her over her head.
“You can lie however is comfortable,” the human woman said quietly. “My name is Elise. I’m responsible for the care of the fae at Elvanfal, so I’ll be taking point on your care under Master Hayes supervision.”
“The only other fae I’ve seen here are in cages,” Araya rasped, tasting blood in her mouth with each word.
Elise’s expression didn’t shift. “It’s unfortunate,” she said, her voice so soft that Araya wouldn’t have heard it without her fae hearing. “There isn’t much I can do for them. But I’d like to help you. Are you in any pain?”
Araya just stared at her. She was so young—a first or second year apprentice at most. What had she done that the Arcanum had punished her by sending her here, to care for people who wouldn’t be missed when they died?
“Right.” Elise grimaced. “Bit of a foolish question. I’ll bring you some Night’s Rest so you can sleep. You can ring the bell on the table there if you need anything else.”
She slipped off before Araya could even try to respond, leaving her with nothing to do but get as comfortable as she could on the camp cot.
It was narrower than Jaxon’s, but far more padded than the pallet she’d slept on for weeks.
The linens were fresh and clean, cool against her hot skin.
Even better, there were no chains—and no Jaxon watching her sleep.
Araya closed her eyes, succumbing to the bone-deep weariness that threatened to drag her under. She was safer here than she had been in months. At least for a little while.
Araya slept more deeply than she had in weeks—maybe months.
The healers didn’t bother her beyond checking her wounds, leaving her to drift in the comfortable darkness between sleeping and wakefulness.
But not alone.
You do not wish to rest?
The forest’s voice threaded through the darkness, as familiar to Araya now as her own heartbeat. It surrounded her, cradling her consciousness with a familiarity that should have terrified her—except Araya somehow knew with utter certainty that it would not hurt her. Not unless she asked it to.
I do not wish to die, Araya answered.
They hurt you, the forest said, its words slow and uncertain. Cut you and bruise you. One day they will kill you. Why suffer?
Because— Araya trailed off, the thought too big to put into words. But here, she didn’t have to.
Serafina’s voice, kindness and fury in equal measure as she worked herself to the bone to help the poorest and weakest. Thorne’s quiet loyalty. Eilwen’s baby laughing.
And Loren.
The solid warmth of him at her back. The safety she felt in the circle of his arms. The quiet rise and fall of his chest under her cheek as his soft voice whispered children’s stories she’d never heard.
The way his shadow curled around her shoulders, nestling into the curve of her neck.
The love she could see in his bright green eyes when he looked down at her.
You sorrow?
I miss him, Araya answered. She hadn’t even realized she could weep here, silent tears rolling down cheeks she hadn’t felt a moment before. I want to see him again. If I die…I won’t.
The forest went very still.
The prince, it said at last. He is the reason you endure?
King now, Araya answered. My mate.
Silence spread through the darkness, deeper than before. The vast presence that held her shifted—a shudder going through it like a great weight had settled into place.
There are other fae here, Araya whispered into the silence. Fae who may want to…rest. Can you help them, too?
We cannot. The forest sighed, its voice distant. Humans poison our ground. Cut and burn our vines. If we could kill them all…
Araya shivered as the forest trailed off, the dark anger in its voice filling her with dread.
Not every human is evil, she whispered.
Elise’s face sprang to mind, the gentle healer who had found her extra blankets and taken extra care to make sure she was comfortable. Serafina was technically human—only a quarter fae. What would the forest think of her?
Some help the fae, she continued, willing it to understand.
The forest was quiet for a long moment. So long that Araya didn’t think it would speak again.
We see, it said at last. Wake now, little queen. You cannot stay.
The darkness cradling Araya thinned, the forest’s grip loosening. Araya’s breath caught, pain returning with awareness. The scrape of her linen shift against her healing burns. The stubborn rasp in the back of her throat.
It hurt to live.
Araya forced her eyes open, blinking away the remnants of sleep.
Bright daylight shone through the seams in the canvas overhead—another day passed.
Whatever apprentice was on duty would come by soon with a bowl of broth or thin porridge, depending on how long she’d slept.
If she was lucky, it would be Elise, and the tray would come with a cup of honeyed tea to wash it down—
“Araya?”
Araya flinched, her head snapping toward the familiar voice.
Kai Sterling sat in a folding camp chair beside her cot, his hands knotted together in his lap. Gods—he looked like he hadn’t slept well in months, the dark circles under his eyes so deep they looked bruised.
“What are you doing here?” Araya spat. Her throat twinged, but she didn’t regret the sharp words. “Continuing your research?”
“No!” Kai’s eyes widened. “Well—yes, technically. On paper. But I wanted to come. To see how you were doing.”
Araya laughed, the brittle sound scraping her raw throat. “How do you think I’m doing?”
Kai winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear I didn’t know what they were planning.”
“You still did it.” Araya pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her ribs. “Do you know what it feels like to have to obey him? What kinds of things do you think he orders me to do? I don’t—”
She broke off with a harsh cough, her chest clenching. Pain flared, radiating through her bruised ribs with every spasm as she doubled forward, curling her arms around herself.
“Araya—” Kai leapt to his feet, his hands hovering uselessly over her like he wasn’t sure where he could touch her without hurting her worse. “I think we need a healer over here.”
Elise was there a moment later, her cool hands settling between Araya’s shoulder blades as she coughed. A faint pulse of stolen magic followed her touch—tracking the shallow hitch of Araya’s breath and the rough rasp in her lungs as she struggled to get enough air.
“I told you she wasn’t to strain herself,” the healer snapped, cutting Kai a sharp glare. “Her throat and ribs are still healing.”
“I’m sorry,” Kai said. He stood a few paces away, his hands still raised like he could do something to help. “I didn’t mean—”
“Intent doesn’t matter to bruised ribs and crushed vocal cords.” Elise pressed a cup to Araya’s lips, slowly easing her back into an upright position. “Sip it slowly,” she cautioned.
The tea was so thick with honey that Araya nearly gagged on the first sip. But the lukewarm liquid coated her throat, easing the raw burn with every careful swallow.
“Thank you,” Araya rasped when she could finally draw a full breath without coughing.
“Less talking,” Elise ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
For a heartbeat she looked so much like Serafina—unyielding, fiercely protective—that tears stung Araya’s eyes.
“And you—” she looked at Kai, her eyes narrowing.
“She’s here to recover. Not to ease your conscience.
If you threaten her healing again, I will remove you, no matter who your friends are. ”
“Understood,” Kai said quietly. He didn’t meet her eyes this time. “I’ll save you the trouble.”
Araya closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, unwilling to watch the man she’d once considered a friend walk away.
He had done this to her. And maybe they would have done it anyway if he’d refused—but he hadn’t.
He’d chosen to follow orders. To tear open her soul and offer it up to Jaxon on a silver platter.
He wouldn’t find any forgiveness from her for that. Not now. Not ever.