Page 117 of Tears of Gold

I wince for both men’s sake. I don’t remember ever seeing Vanrey so worked up, but I love how dedicated he is to Erritt’s wellbeing. It goes beyond the role of a mere aide. His lips tighten as Erritt begins to speak but breaks off with a hiss of pain.

“Vanrey and I can help a bit,” Skye says, climbing onto the bed. I make way for him to sit cross-legged beside Erritt. I want to drape myself across Skye’s back or hug him from behind, but the Elite elemental is standing right there and now we’re back on campus, we have to be more careful about our relationship.

I frown, wondering how we’re going to navigate an entire semester of this. Harper catches my look and gives me a tiny smile.

“A-actually,” Erritt wheezes. “I want . . . Harper to try.”

We all look at the prince in shock. “What?” Vanrey asks, his green eyes widening.

Erritt flicks a finger toward Harper. “I’ve b-been musing . . . on it, and I have a . . . theory I’d like to t-test out. There’s . . . something in your . . . essence I haven’t been able to put my . . . finger on. But remember . . . the other day . . . you said my stutter had almost g-gone?”

Harper nods, squinting in confusion.

“I think . . . it really w-was your doing.” Erritt coughs and gasps, and we all reach for him as he clutches at his chest.

Harper blows a raspberry with his lips. “I think I’d know if I could heal people.”

A touch of a smile lightens Erritt’s face as he sinks back on his pillows. “But you d-do. You’re always . . . bandaging people up, dispensing m-medicine . . . cleaning wounds. It shouldn’t have b-been possible . . . for you to bring me back to life, yet . . . here I am.”

My hand clenches on Erritt’s shoulder. Seeing him lie here so pale in the wake of today’s battle where I’ve seen far too much death makes my imagination fire in the worst of ways. Erritt? Dead? I couldn’t bear it.

Skye leans across and squeezes my hand once, as if sensing my misery.

“Which is a story I’m still waiting to hear in detail, by the way,” Vanrey interrupts with a pointed look.

Harper shakes his head. “I’ve learned first aid, that’s all.”

“Well, will . . . you try a-anyway?” Erritt asks, lifting one hand toward Harper.

“Erritt,” Skye cautions. “It’s not something to try with no practice.”

“I trust the r-rogue, and he m-may as well . . . practice on me,” Erritt says, holding Harper’s gaze. “It can’t get w-worse . . . than t-this.” He brushes his hand limply against himself with a frustration I recognize. Back in hospital, I was happy to try any treatment because it meant there was a chance something might change. But Erritt seems determined, as if he knows something.

Harper swallows hard. “What do I do?”

Vanrey clears his throat. “Can Harper even sense qi?”

“He’s beginning to,” Skye answers cautiously.

“My lord, think again,” Vanrey protests. “I can have a qualified healer here in an hour from the palace, as I’ve been suggesting.”

Erritt shudders and shakes his head.

Vanrey clears his throat, eyes flicking between Harper and Erritt. “If he’s untrained, he’ll need a strong connection.”

Harper looks from one person to another. “Meaning?”

“You’ll have . . . to kiss m-me,” Erritt informs him.

“Fuck off!” Harper cries, glancing at Vanrey in alarm.

Vanrey, ever the proper royal aide, raises one eyebrow. “Are you refusing His Highness?”

Despite the apparent inappropriateness of kissing, Vanrey is most concerned about the prince being obeyed. I’d laugh at the absurdity of their exchange if it wasn’t for the real pain Erritt’s experiencing.

Harper grimaces. “You’re all crazy.”

“Fine, then . . . don’t t-try, and I’ll lie here in . . . bed for another two . . . weeks.”