Chapter Twenty-Nine
Avari
The flight back was peaceful, and though we got misted by a refreshing cloud of rain, it did nothing to dampen the dovish moment. The village was only a short flight away, and not even an hour later we landed in the courtyard. In his ever-so-helpful manner, the king helped me hop off my beast.
Though charming, the kind gesture made me chuckle. Out of the two of us, I was the one with more dragon experience, evident through his measured steps.
‘What’s funny now?’ River asked, his hand still lingering at my waist.
‘Nothing, just …’
Michael ran toward us, his sombre expression tearing both River and me out of the blissful trance. He was winded and covered in blood.
River vanished, appearing by him so fast my eyes couldn’t register it. He patted his younger brother for wounds, but Michael shoved his hands away and shook his head, as if the words were too difficult to push out.
Gripping Michael’s face in his palms, River forced him to meet his gaze. ‘What is it?’
My spy friend’s throat bobbed as he released the breath he was holding. ‘Your battalion …’
The king went rigid, eyes losing warmth as they often did when he struggled to control his emotions. ‘What happened?’
Michael shook his head again, and his brother gripped him tighter before roaring, ‘Tell. Me!’
I stepped closer, uncertain whether to focus on diffusing the tension or finding out what had happened. It wasn’t like River to lose his temper with his family.
‘Michael, calm down …’ I grabbed his hand, interlacing our fingers and caressing with the gentleness I would offer a spooked animal. ‘Just start from the beginning. Everything will be okay.’
His hand tightened around mine as his panicked eyes settled on River. The king had gone unnaturally still, his spine straight, his feet rooted deep into the ground. It was difficult to tell if he was even breathing.
Voice hoarse, Michael finally managed to rasp out, ‘They are in the infirmary.’
River rushed ahead, too fast to follow. I sprinted after him, heart hammering. Around the corner I thought I lost him, but he must have stopped, sensing that I followed.
Halting me with a hand, his voice turned stern. ‘Stay. They hate witches.’
That much was obvious, but I could still prove useful, and he had to know it. ‘They’ve obviously been hurt. I can help.’
‘They have. By witches. They’re like my brothers, Ava. They’ve just come back from battle, and they’re angry. Not only that, but they may lash out. I don’t want you hurt or to be forced to step in and correct them when they’re already injured.’
It sounded reasonable. ‘I am a witch, and as such, I can heal some of their injuries if they need it. I won’t go near them unless they agree they want my help. Does that sound okay?’
Grabbing my hand again, he sprinted, pulling me with him to the far end of the corridor. The double doors to what I presumed was the infirmary had been left open, and even my untrained nose recognised the stench of blood and gore.
At the sight of carnage inside, his grip eased, and I slipped my hand free.
The tiled floors had become pools of crimson, bandages scattered as the three medics jumped between the wounded.
At least a dozen soldiers—maybe more—were laid across beds, counters and floors, arranged by urgency. All in varying states of damage.
The two on the beds had been hit the worst. Their injuries were too severe for even fae to heal on their own.
One lay unconscious while a medic worked over him. The other, aware of the gravity of his situation, pushed the healers away to help his comrades instead.
My heart swelled with sadness. Nobody that selfless deserved such a cruel death.
I hesitated at the threshold, worried the healthier soldiers might attack. Their fae sense of smell would tell them instantly what I was. But as they looked between me and River, they must have realised I was the Ortensian with the dragon.
They didn’t react aggressively, though their wary gazes followed as I crossed the room and reached the bedside of a soldier I was determined to help, if only he would let me.
‘I’m Ava,’ I said to the weak man. His eyes met mine, and although fear flashed through them for a second, he soon relaxed.
Surrounded by allies, he must have realised I wasn’t a threat.
His blonde hair was matted, his skin pale, as if death waited at the door.
‘I could try to heal you if you let me.’
Pupils widening, he tried to lift his head to look at the gash in his stomach. It bled so freely that it pooled beneath his bed, soaking my boots. His voice was weak and trembling. ‘It’s too late for me. Heal the others.’
He gripped my hand, squeezing as though to beg me to move on.
River watched intently from across the infirmary, using his fire to aid the other wounded. It wouldn’t heal them, but it would provide them strength to fight.
Lines of worry marred his forehead as I hovered over the dying warrior.
The wound had to be dealt with immediately; there was no time to argue. ‘If you allow me, I’d like to try. The others are being taken care of.’
‘Let her, Albert. She’s his; it’s worth a shot.’ A soldier on the floor pleaded, clutching the torn muscle of his nearly severed arm.
Albert’s gaze flicked around the room, jumping between who needed help most.
I squeezed his hand tighter. ‘You might still survive. Their injuries aren’t as grave.’
He lay motionless as River stepped beside me to assess the wound. He placed a hand on Albert’s cheek and sighed, but his fire did nothing to close the crater.
Turning to me, he whispered, ‘Do it.’
Ignoring the surrounding chaos, I cleared my mind completely and rallied all of my green essence into my palms before placing them on his stomach, right beside the source of the bleeding.
Time seemed to still as I willed the veins and arteries to repair. My witchcraft coiled through the injury, causing him to twitch from pain, but it was the price he had to pay.
It worked deeper, knitting torn cartilage, bone, and muscle back into a cohesive unity that resembled a stomach once more. Still damaged, but no longer bleeding out.
Tearing my hands away, I released a deep breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Healing demanded too much. My hands had already begun to spasm, warning me not to push further. There would be consequences.
I checked Albert’s face. His expression had softened, and River used the clean part of his sleeve to wipe sweat from my forehead. The healing had drained me so completely that I barely noticed the fever creeping in.
‘Thank you.’ The soldier’s eyes glistened, tears spilling as he addressed me with a reverence that left me speechless.
But I wasn’t done.
The unconscious man on the next bed lay straightened by some plastic brace holding his neck in place. He wouldn’t heal on his own either; his breathing had grown shallower since I began with Albert.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked the medic tending another soldier. She eyed me suspiciously but finally answered when she saw Albert’s colour return.
‘They froze his spine. Tore it apart.’
Gods. When had my people become so cruel? This wasn’t battle, it was torture.
I gathered what power I had left, though it came reluctantly. My sisters could have healed this whole room twice over, but fate hadn’t been as generous with me.
Focusing the energy on his neck, I traced the devastation one of my kind had left. Several of his vertebrae weren’t just disconnected; some had been crushed and frozen into solid blocks I couldn’t thaw alone.
‘River!’ I called before I could stop myself. Numerous heads snapped in my direction, shock clear on their faces.
I cursed silently for forgetting formality, but he didn’t seem to mind and was at my side instantly.
There was hope in his voice. ‘Do you need my help?’
‘My fire isn’t strong enough to defrost his spine. You’ll have to connect with me and track where my witchcraft goes. Only defrost what I’m healing, or we’ll kill him. The ice is the only thing keeping him alive right now.’
He didn’t hesitate. Our fingers interlaced, and his flames surged through me, filling my chest with enough warmth to self-combust.
I forced my reluctant green energy to entwine with his, guiding them towards the shattered pieces of the man lying before us.
We reached the first jagged shard of ice in his neck. I wrapped my essence around it while River used his flames to melt it gently. It didn’t take long, but we hadn’t considered what to do with the pooling water.
As if reading my mind, he called for a medic and explained what we needed. She stood ready with a syringe, its needle long enough to cause nightmares.
We worked through each damaged vertebra, taking brief breaks as my body screamed for me to stop. Still, I forced myself to heal the last one with the remnants of my power. The moment I severed my link to the patient and River, I collapsed.
‘Ava!’ River’s shaky voice broke through the haze as I slumped on the floor beside the injured man’s bed. An arm hooked around my shoulders, keeping me upright. It was the soldier urging Albert to let me heal him.
River patted my cheek, placed a cup of water at my lips, and tilted my head to help me drink. Eventually, I rested my head against the stranger’s chest.
The healing had depleted me. My blurry vision slowly cleared, revealing a panicked king crouched before me and a roomful of his battalion watching from afar. I still leaned against the stranger, who didn’t seem to mind.
‘It’s okay, I’ll watch her. Help the others,’ he assured his king, and when River reluctantly rose, I knew he trusted him.
Embarrassed by my weakness, I whispered, ‘I’m sorry I can’t heal you.’
‘No need, it’ll heal on its own. You healed Albert and Archie, that’s more than enough. You should rest. Don’t want River to pop that vein in his forehead, do you?’
They seemed so used to injury. I couldn’t understand how he could joke in such a state. ‘I’m fine. I just used too much witchcraft; it happens.’
‘You lose consciousness when you use too much? I’ve never seen that before.’ The stranger lifted his good hand to my forehead, checking for fever. Such a kind man.
‘It’s like being cut off before you spend too much to d—’ I stopped, unwilling to admit how dangerous it truly could have been.
‘Ah, I understand. We’re truly grateful. It’s safe to say you’re an honorary Prime warrior now.’
I let out a strained chuckle. ‘Oh really? Well, that’s definitely going to pop that vein of his.’
He laughed too. ‘I’m Cecil, Executive Officer for the Prime Battalion. Lately, I’ve been filling in for our king as Commander. He’s too busy with you to fight.’
Was their group worse off now that he focused on training? ‘Sorry.’
His tone stayed light, betraying no pain despite the wound that left his flesh hanging from bone. ‘No need. We all have lives, and for too long, his revolved solely around the war.’
A sigh escaped me, which made him pause. ‘But you do know who I am, right?’
‘It’s not about where you come from. It’s about what you make of yourself.’