Chapter 10
“Fyn! We need to stop!” I yelled.
A ring of blood seeped past my hand.
“I’ll…be… fine.” Lioran’s words caught. “We can’t stop here…it’s not…safe.”
“I’m not going to let you bleed out.” I grabbed Veylar’s reins and yanked hard. Lioran’s stallion was loyal to a fault—he refused to stop.
Fyn rode closer. His eyes scanned Lioran.
“We’re stopping now. You can be stubborn all you want later.” His tone was sharp.
“We will stop…when…it’s…safe.” Lioran grunted with each word. His body slumped into mine.
“Stop now, Veylar. Unless you’re not opposed to Lioran dying.” I yanked the reins harder.
The stallion halted.
Fyn raced to secure Lioran as he slid out of the saddle. My hands shook as they gripped the satchel.
Fyn desperately ripped Lioran’s tunic, tearing it free. Crimson gushed freely.
I couldn’t help.
I didn’t know what to do.
A vial trembled in my hand—remnants of Neena’s supplies.
“Bring me anything—I need everything!” Fyn yelled.
His satchel caught on the saddle, but I ripped it free. Fyn braced Lioran at the base of a tree as I darted back to them. He removed a thin strip of light brown bark from his bag and shoved it into Lioran’s mouth. Lioran groaned as his teeth clenched around it.
Brown liquid trickled over the wound from Fyn’s quaking hand.
Lioran roared. Every muscle in his body tensed.
I quickly pried the lid off an herbal salve Neena gave me before we left. Fyn slathered it on the wound.
Lioran grunted—sweat dripped from his brow.
I was his enemy’s daughter, but he protected me anyway.
“They were fae.” I said.
My thigh muscles spasmed. I could still feel the hand on my thigh, but no one held me. Tears crashed down my face.
“Bailoc is full of surprises,” Fyn huffed.
Lioran’s groans reverberated through the ground. His fingers dug into the dirt. Fyn frantically pulled the dressing tight around his wound.
“He looks awful.”
“I…can…hear…you,” Lioran wailed, spitting out the bark.
“I’m so sorry.” I sank into the dirt beside Lioran.
His chest barely rose and fell—his breath too shallow to grip air.
“I shouldn’t have crossed the divide.” I reached for his hand and held it mine. He didn’t pull away.
“We…can’t…st...ay...” He tried to lift himself up, but Fyn pressed his palm against his shoulder.
“You are not going anywhere right now.” Fyn steadied him. “Red isn’t your color.”
Lioran tried to laugh, but a ragged inhale echoed.
My abdomen burned at the sight of all the blood.
Lioran was bleeding out, because they were hunting me. My shoulder twinged with the pain of my own reopened wound. My hands gripped his still. The same hands that sliced a dagger through flesh.
I clenched my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the memory.
The fae’s eyes in the woods haunted me. I could still smell the stench of the sylkren. What if they didn’t come? I shuddered.
No, I couldn’t think about it.
I dropped Lioran’s hand and turned from them both. As I stepped away, I vomited.
“Ae…lira.” Lioran’s hoarse voice called to me.
“First time in battle, huh?” Fyn handed me the flask of water with his free hand. I nodded as I let the drink flow through me, cooling the heat in my cheeks. “You did good.” He nodded.
Lioran’s eyes closed.
“Fyn!” I screamed, before I saw his chest rise with another shallow breath.
“He’s breathing.” Fyn stilled my quaking hands in his, blood tinged us. “Lioran cares more about others than he does himself. One of his biggest faults.”
Lioran’s blood pooled through the dressing. Fyn applied another one on top, gripping it firm. What if it didn’t stop?
“Fyn…will he?” I couldn’t even get my words out.
“We will get him to help, but we can’t move him yet,” Fyn said. Suddenly, I found myself desperate to hear he would survive, but Fyn didn’t say it.
Fyn tilted his flask over my hands. The water ran red beneath them. My thoughts retraced every detail of the attack. King Ardyn wouldn’t have called the fae. He would never ally with them to get me back. He probably didn’t want me back.
The dark-haired fae wore an insignia on the metal clasp of his cloak. I tried to hold the image in my mind, to commit every line to memory, but Lioran bellowed again.
“Thank you for protecting me.” My voice was a low whisper. His fingers twitched. I clutched them in my hands again.
Please let him live.
The stars weren’t visible, but maybe they could still hear my plea.
The midday heat settled on us. We spent the last hour monitoring him as he went in and out of consciousness. “We need to get moving.” Fyn hovered over Lioran. “It’s still early. We can pass through Othryl to gather supplies for Lioran before heading to the Heart.”
“Do they have a healer in Othryl?”
“They may. The village isn’t what it used to be.” Fyn began packing the few supplies we had left. “If we can keep him on a horse today, we may get there before nightfall.”
“Lioran.” Fyn lifted him slowly. “Drink.” Fyn lifted the flask to his lips.
He was awake. He was alive.
“Tell me what I can do.” I felt his forehead for fever. He didn’t have one.
Veylar didn’t hesitate as Fyn led him closer to us.
“I’m going to help him stand. Help brace his back.” Lioran leaned into Fyn, his arm swung around Fyn’s neck. My hands gently rested on Lioran’s back. I was too afraid to hurt him further.
Lioran groaned with each step.
“Try to pull yourself up a bit. I’ll help with the rest.” Fyn’s voice softened.
Lioran clenched his muscles as he tried to grab onto Veylar’s saddle. He moaned as his boots slid in the dirt. Fyn braced him again, helping him into the saddle.
“She can’t manage you by herself. It won’t be comfortable…but I have to tie you to Veylar.” Fyn’s hands steadied a rope around Lioran’s waist—he tied it to the saddle.
“Aelira, you’ll ride behind Lioran. I need you to hold him up best you can.” Fyn extended his hand to help me into the saddle, but his hand wrapped around my arm instead. “You’re bleeding. We need to wrap it again.”
“No.” I pulled free. “We don’t have enough supplies left. He needs it more than I do. I’ll be fine.”
“You two…” Fyn slid his dagger through the bottom of his shirt, ripping a strand of fabric free. I winced as he tightened the fabric around my wound. “You’re both just bleeding all over the place like it’s no big deal.” He smirked.
He lifted me up behind Lioran. My hands rested lightly on Lioran’s back.
“He won’t bite.” Fyn slid my arms around Lioran’s chest. “He’s lost too much blood.” Even as he joked, his voice caught.
Lioran let out a low scoff. I pulled my hands back.
“This will only work if you actually hold on to him!” Fyn yelled as he mounted his horse.
Lioran howled as Veylar’s hooves pelted the rocky ground.
“I need you to hold on, Lioran.” If he heard me, he didn’t respond.
Wind thrashed at my cheeks, a moment of relief from the midday sun. Lioran swayed in the saddle, but I gripped him harder, desperate to keep him upright.
Fyn rode alongside us until the path narrowed. Even then, he monitored us. My muscles seared with pain with every effort to keep Lioran from slumping in the saddle. Despite how fast he was fading, he attempted to hold himself up.
“I’ve got you. We’re going to make it to Othryl soon.” I didn’t know how long it would take, but I needed him to stay conscious. My hands pressed firmly against his chest until I could feel each shallow slow breath.
Rustling sounded from the trees.
“Fyn, did you hear that?”
Fyn commanded his horse to halt. I pulled on Veylar’s reins. Lioran wailed as he shifted too abruptly in the saddle.
“There’s nothing out there, but if we keep stopping, we may stumble into something.”
He was right. I couldn’t let my fear get the best of me. My arms trembled, Lioran suddenly felt heavier.
“Stay with me,” I pleaded as tears pooled in my eyes. My heart clenched firm in my chest.
“We need to get to Othryl,” Fyn warned.
When I was sad or hurt, my mother used to always hum a soft tune to me. I remembered it still and hummed it to him. He may not have heard it all, but the familiar song kept me steady.
Two wings crossed with a vertical sword—their insignia was seared into my memory. It felt so familiar.
As Veylar’s hooves pounded the rocky ground, I remembered it. The day the marriage pact was announced. Thalen kissed me and when he pulled back, the sunlight illuminated something on his tunic—a golden emblem.
It couldn’t be the same.
Maybe it was just similar.
“Are you okay?” Fyn yelled to me.
The path finally widened enough for Fyn to bring his horse beside Veylar. My hands shifted on Lioran’s chest.
I remembered it clearly. My throat tightened. The insignia was identical. They said he wanted me back safely—it hadn’t been King Ardyn.
It was Thalen.
He had fae riders in his command. They knew how to track me.
The divide couldn’t stop him. More would come.
“The attackers in the woods…one wore an insignia.”
Fyn’s eyebrows knitted.
A low, dull groan rumbled through Lioran and collided with me like he was listening and waiting for my answer.
“King Ardyn has an ally, Lord Thalen of the Vale.” I exhaled louder than I intended. “He wears the same insignia.”
“The King of Bailoc and Lord Thalen of the Vale are allies?” His words echoed in my ears. How did he know him? I nodded.
Fyn shifted in his saddle. “Why would a king who hates the fae ally himself with one?”
He couldn’t have said what I thought he had.
Thalen wasn’t just the Lord of the Vale.
He was fae.
His eyes glowed in my father’s study, but I dismissed it. When he touched me, something stirred within me. I thought I was having feelings for him, but what if it was something else entirely?
My head throbbed as I recalled their first conversation about the marriage pact. Each pointed question asked after the next. My father…Lord Joran…Agan…they all knew. They chose him not just for the supplies, but because he could handle the parts of me that were like him.
“You…know him?” I asked.
“He has a bit of a reputation in our kingdom. Thalen’s highly tolerated by those in powerful positions in the High Court, but many of us see him for who he truly is.”
“And what is that?”