“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. Thewater 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.”
