“We have no room for petty disputes down here. If you have something to settle, you do it aboveground.” His eyes panned between his two fae soldiers. “I understand having to explain this to a new recruit—but to you two?” His condescending glare locked onto them. “I expect it won’t happen again.”
Breyer kept her eyes down. “No, Captain. It won’t.”
“Good.” He bent down, bracing his hands around Helaina’s arms. His sudden closeness caused a shiver between her shoulder blades. Her posture straightened at the sensation. He leaned in, letting the warmth of his words coast past her ear. “Get up.”
“No.”
She felt his throat vibrate with irritation. “You started this. You’ll finish it. One-on-one in the arena.Now get up.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
BEFORE
“This is the third time you’ve come to raid my salves.” Madge was skeptical as her gray eyebrow rose. “Do you have time to earn it today? I have plenty of herbs that need muddling.”
Helaina smiled warmly. “Sure, I can stay.” She would rather grab the salve and go, but between visits with Dolion and training with Adriel, she rarely had time to come here anymore.
There were many healers that resided in the south wing. Madge had been here longer than all of them. Helaina had learned much from the elderly woman who had written many of the medical texts in Oakmire’s library.
In another world, in another place, Helaina thought she would have liked wearing a healer’s robe; they looked more comfortable than dresses. She could clearly never fill the shoes of a princess like her sister, but here, she felt like she fit.
Helaina walked over to the table where a collection of neatly organized botanicals and lotions sat. The smell was pungent, but she had grown used to it.
She didn’t get a chance to start her task.
The door flew open, and more healers raced inside.
Behind them, guards wearing Keles’s colors were holding a body in shredded cloth that looked to be the remnants of a tunic. There was a patch on the front pocket, a triangle pointed downward with two pickaxes crossed in the middle.
A scout from Vrasta.
There was only one explanation for why he would be here this far from home. This was the first time she’d seen a victim of the attacks make it back.
They arranged him on the treatment table as Madge cut off his articles of clothing, running her fingers over his damp skin. He was soaked in sweat, his neck shredded to ribbons. He was losing blood, a lot of it.
“We need ya here, dear!” Madge barked.
Helaina ran over to hold pressure where Madge indicated. The old woman hurried to her neatly arranged tools.
“How long? Did anyone see what happened?”
“No, we found him like this. We brought him here as fast as we could.”
The man started to move, his eyes scrunched shut as he screamed. “The light swallowed him! We have to go back! Save him, please, save him!” The deep gashes circling his neck oozed onto the table. Helaina had seen plenty come and go here. Plenty who were injured or in pain. She had never seen wounds like this.
“Helaina, the white willow,” Madge instructed, then turned to a soldier. “You, take over for her.” He slid his hands over Helaina’s bloody ones to hold the pressure.
Helaina sprinted to the shelf and found the leaves in the labeled jar.
“Chew on it, it’ll help ease the pain,” Helaina ordered the scout.
Madge grabbed her hand, nearly shoving her fingers toward his lips. “He can’t follow commands right now. Put it in his cheek, it’ll work fine.”
The poor man settled, his ramblings quieted once the plant passed his lips. Helaina first thought it was because the medicine was helping. Then she noticed blood spurting rapidly at his groin.
Madge cursed as she hurried to arrange what she needed for her procedure.
The man gurgled. The sound was final.
