Ronan hesitates. “You could come with me, maybe. I doubt we’ll miss anything.”
“You’re being overprotective. Go. I’ll be fine.” I reach up and kiss him.
He wraps his arms around me and looks over my shoulder at Elia. “Keep her safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then he and Taran follow the messenger down the steps towards the river, leaving me alone with Elia and the other soldiers on patrol.
“It’s true, then,” she says, brushing a strand of her dark hair back into her helmet, her smile turning mischievous. “You’re his consort.”
Heat rises up my neck. It’s dark, but Elia can see my blush. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
Elia barks a laugh. “Well, I’ve never seen him kiss any of his other friends or advisors. So either his leadership style hasseriously changed, or you’resomethingto him. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I’m just glad to see him with someone.”
“Have you known him long?”
“All my life. Or all of his, I guess. He’s a few years younger. My House is one of the most important producers of grain in the kingdom. Or we were. Those are our lands out there.” She points to the fields filled with Nithyrian tents.
“I’m sorry. Is your family safe?”
She nods slowly. “More or less. We have a townhome here in Faros. Many of them were there for the Festival when the city went under siege. I was at the palace, of course.”
“How did you come to be a Royal Guard?” If she came from a major farming House, I’m not sure how or why she would have joined Ronan’s service.
“Like most of the guards, I served under him in the last war. I never had a taste for farm life. I’ve never been one to get up with the rooster. More of a night owl.”
I laugh. Shadow-born humor.
“Look,” she says suddenly. “Is that…?”
“Fire.” There in the distance beyond the catapult, just where Ronan said it would be. “Damn, I hate that Ronan’s missing this—”
There’s a quiet, whizzing sound of something flying past. I don’t see it, but I hear its impact. I hear the tearing of flesh as it embeds in Elia’s neck.
It’s an arrow.
It’s a one-in-a-million shot right through the arrow loop, a narrow gap of just two or three inches wide. Gods, who could have made a shot like that?
“Ronan!” I scream. Elia is clutching at her throat, more blood than I’ve ever seen in my life squirting violently from the wound. “RONAN!”
Oh gods, she’s going to die. She’s choking on her own blood, and there’s nothing I can do. I reach out, trying to close the wound with my finger, trying to apply pressure somehow, but the blood just won’t stop.
“Elia, I’m here,” I say as she slumps to the ground. Oh gods. I’ve just met her, and I’m the last person she’ll ever see. “I’m here with you.”
I’m drenched in her blood, and I don’t care. I can’t bear for her to be alone.
“I’m here,” I say again, trying one final time to stop the bleeding.
Light flashes on my fingertips. It’s so bright and sudden that I nearly pull my hands away, but some instinct forces me to keep them on Elia.
Light magic.
Ronan’s magic coming from my hands. It’s impossible, but I’m certain that I’m right. I touch the wound on Elia’s neck, andit closes.
“Oh, Vayla. Vayla, please help me,” I pray to the goddess of light. “Please.”
I’ve got to get the arrow out if I want to heal her the rest of the way. “I’m sorry, Elia. I have to do this.” I close my eyes and pull, trying to ignore the sickening feeling of tearing flesh as the arrow passes back out of her throat with my light magic closing the hole it leaves. “Elia?”
