Page 73 of The Crowned Queen

She knew that voice. Araya forced her eyes open. The room swam around her, aetherlight and dark shadows blurring together. For three agonizing heartbeats, she couldn’t make sense of what was in front of her. Then she blinked, the familiar scent of granite and cold rain surrounding her as his face came into focus.

Loren knelt beside her, both hands wrapped around one of hers so tightly his knuckles had gone as pale as his face. His shadows pooled around them both, their voices a fractured, frantic murmur in her ears. She still couldn’t feel their bond but he was there. A broken sound slipped from her lips, as weak and pitiful as she was. They were together again⁠—

“She’s awake,” Loren repeated, his panicked voice rising. “Serafina⁠—”

“I’m trying to put her back under,” Serafina answered. “Araya, don’t fight me. You don’t want to be awake for this⁠—”

But she did. Araya tried to speak, but all that slipped past her lips was another pained moan. Every breath hurt. Her body had endured too much, forced to keep going when she should have collapsed long ago.

But he was here.

She could see him. Could feel his hands wrapped around hers, warm and solid and real. She didn’t want to go back to the dark. She wanted to stay here, with him.

Serafina’s magic poured over her, heavy and cool. Araya tried to shake her head, but her body didn’t answer, her vision going dark around the edges.

“Loren—” her voice broke, slurring.

“I’m here.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead carefully against hers. “We have you, ael’sura. You’re safe.”

She wasn’t. None of them were. There was something she had to tell him—but Araya couldn’t hold onto it. Her thoughts slipped from her grasp, carried away by the gentle waves of Serafina’s magic washing over her, coaxing her under.

Her eyelashes fluttered. Loren’s breath warmed her skin, the salt of his tears coating her lips. He was here. She’d made it back to him.

The last thing Araya felt before the darkness claimed her was the warmth of his hands around hers, refusing to let go.

Araya woke slowly the next time.

The fog of unconsciousness gripped her mind like thick mud, each thought peeling its way free slowly, with great effort. She was still lying facedown, but someone had turned her head to the other side, something soft pillowed beneath her cheek instead of the rough wood grain.

And her back⁠—

Araya shied away from that thought, just the memory of the lash enough to make her recoil. But the pain she knew should be there was dull and far away, muted beneath layers of magic and medicine, the sharp, herby bite of the poultices Serafina made stinging her nose and making her eyes water.

Serafina.

The healer sat beside her, head bowed and shoulders sagging with exhaustion. She barely looked like herself without her blue robes—the sleeves of the ill-fitted men’s shirt she wore shoved up to her elbows, the cheap linen wrinkled and stiff with drying blood.

Araya swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet cracked lips.

“Hi,” she rasped.

Serafina’s head snapped up, bright blue eyes wide in a face that was so much thinner than Araya remembered it. For a moment neither of them moved. Then Serafina’s composure cracked.

“Hi,” she breathed, her lip trembling and her eyes flooded with unshed tears. “You’re awake.”

“I’m alive.” Araya laughed hoarsely. “Can I⁠—”

“No, don’t try to move.” Serafina was on her feet in an instant, the mask of the stern healer snapping back into place. “Your back is still open.” She fussed with the linen draped over Araya’s back. “That bitch used an iron-braided whip on you.”

“I remember—” Araya’s breath hitched as Serafina adjusted something, a flash of pain breaking through whatever Serafina had done to mute it. “Gods, that’s really going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“It will.” Serafina frowned, her brow furrowing. “I’d prefer to keep you asleep until the worst is over⁠—”

“No,” Araya snapped, the word coming out so forcefully it stung her aching throat. “No more keeping me asleep,” she continued. “Not unless you have to. Please.”

Serafina’s expression softened. She reached for Araya’s hand, her fingers a little too stiff and clumsy as they curled around hers. “I’d be here the entire time,” she said gently. “You’re safe now⁠—”

Araya shook her head, swallowing against the twinge of pain the movement caused. “I’ll never be safe so long as a Shaw is alive in this world,” she said. “I want to stay awake.”