Page 49 of Taken By Shadows

I wanted to tell her. But my voice was lost deep inside of me.

Their words hung over me. My eyes fluttered open and closed, but I stayed in the room, floating through the shapes and sounds.

“She can’t,” Kaed ground out. He stood, arms folded right above me.

Gentle fingers caressed the shell and point of my ear. “How is that possible?” the kind voice of the female, Celeste, asked.

Lavender and pale pink light shimmered over me. A blanket of hyacinth and rose petals. It felt like powder. Light, minute particles of warmth and brightness.

As the hazy light settled onto my skin, peace rolled into my bones. Ease poured into my muscles, languid light penetrating each fibre. Magic filled my body, and my nerves tingled as the skin knit back together.

My breathing was hot and ragged as I absorbed the sensation of accelerated healing.

But it didn’t heal how exhausted I felt.

My hands fell limp at my sides as the bones that had been broken began to mend, their structures popping and snapping to strengthen again. Dull, roaring pain grew in me like a wave that might engulf me. But something kept me conscious enough to feel the tendons and sinews stitch back together. Bloodied tentacles latched onto each other until they became one again. My skin closed over like a spider closing the structure of its web.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. My eyes were heavy, but I listened as they spoke.

“Where is her magic, Kaedian?” The female voice was stern. Like she expected him to bow under it.

I scoffed as I cleared blood from my mouth. “If anyone knew, he’d be the last to tell you. I’m sure of it.” I tried sitting up, but a strong arm held me to the table.

I pushed against his hand, but even if I hadn’t just been stitched back together, I couldn’t have won against his fae strength.

My eyes finally focused around me, enough to glare at him.

We were in a small room with glass cabinets that sat on top of countertops. Like a kitchen, only the shelves were stacked with colourful glass bottles of glistening liquids and salves. Dried flowers were preserved in glass terrariums. Stacks of books and tomes lay across the space. Each opened on various depictions of flowers and leaves.

“You brought me to an apothecary?” I said, dazed.

“I brought you to a healer,” Kaed said, his tone clipped. “I should have brought you to a cell.”

Celeste said nothing, but she scolded him with a look as I finally sat up against Kaed’s wishes.

I ignored the threat of the cell and instead turned to Celeste. “You’re a healer?” I asked, looking at the female who appeared in her mid-sixties. Her eyes were beautiful and clear, and her skin held wrinkles on her hands and around her eyes. I’d never known fae aged. I thought fae were immortal? My mind was too shattered from the events I’d just endured and the healing to wrap my mind around that question. She was fae with signs of ageing, but she did it with such grace that it suited her.

Celeste nodded and took my hand; her grasp was firm. “Kaedian should have introduced you to me on better terms.” A cutting look landed on Kaed with her words.

He looked like he wanted to rage up like a tornado, but something about the way Celeste spoke to him had him quiet like I hadn’t seen before. Reverent. Respectful.

He shifted his weight on his hip, and his arms banded across his chest.

Celeste still had my hand, and she turned over my wrist to examine the scar. She traced her fingers over the cool, white mark. The crescent shape was raised slightly over my normal flesh. It didn’t hurt.

“Can your magic heal it?” I had never thought of being rid of it. But not having it would just be one less thing to think about.

“We, as fae, don’t scar easily,” Celeste said, turning my wrists over, looking for other marks. Even though she knew I didn’t have magic, she included me in that “we.”

My eyes landed on Kaed, and I strained to look away from the sharp red line that speared down his face.

Fae don’t scar easily. Curiosity swam in my mind like shimmering waters until I looked away when he caught my stare.

“I’ve had it since I can remember. My fam—” I stopped abruptly. Wondering why I was telling this stranger anything about myself.

Celeste’s eyes were kind as she searched mine for the words I hadn’t said.

I felt like I could trust her. There was something deep-rooted and caring in her. Stern. But caring. “My family—the people who raised me—never said how I got it. Just that it happened when I was very young.”