Page 80 of Keldori By Daybreak

“This far?”

Ciarán tilted his head back and forth as he took a moment to think.

“Not quite. We should still have a couple days on them. Lady Quill says we are well hidden here, so our priority should be to rest.” He looked at Tiernan. “What are your injuries?”

Tiernan straightened up the best he could, but even after bathing, eating, and sleeping, his ashen cheeks were sunken and his eyes heavy with fatigue.

“I can leave as soon as we need.”

“The Lady Saergrim is proving an adept healer. Talk to her.” Ciarán turned to exit.

I didn’t quite understand the thrill of frustration that rose in my gut at his cold departure, but the way his shoulders tensed told me had felt it too, singing along our tether.

“Where are you going?” I demanded.

“Hunting. We need to be well-fed if we want to make it to the citadel library without Ferrin’s soldiers catching us.”

“Do you need help?”

He didn’t reply and made his exit in silence. I prodded at the space in the back of my head where I could usually hear him. “Ciarán?”

The humming of his thoughts cut as he put up a mental wall between us.

Jonquil meowed into the awkward silence that followed and jumped from Fana’s lap to chase after Ciarán. I suppressed a sigh and forced myself to turn back to Tiernan.

“Where does it hurt?”

Orla and Fana vacated the chamber to prepare a meal out of our food rations while Iseult studied the copper plate on the wall. Tiernan brushed twisted locks back from his face as I approached.

“I said I’m fine.”

“Can you walk?”

“Probably.”

I smirked and crouched next to him. “You won’t do Fana any good if you can’t stand long enough to defend her.”

His gold-flecked eyes locked with mine, and his brow furrowed. I may have sprung him from Ferrin’s prison, but Tiernan had never liked me much. He’d kept his distance since our escape from the mountain, so I was sure some of that dislike lingered. I was likely the last person he wanted healing him.

However, he leaned forward and rolled up the leg of his thread-bare trousers. His dark skin helped disguise the bruise that painted his leg, but the swelling of his ankle was painfully apparent. I bit on the inside of my cheek, trying to disguise the churning of my stomach.

“Is it bad?” Tiernan asked in a hushed tone.

“It’s not great.” I poked at the swollen joint, and Tiernan flinched. “Did Ferrin do this?”

“Caitria.” His sister. He’d mourned her when he’d thought she was dead, and this was how she repaid him. Part of me hoped she was hunting us so I could repay her on Tiernan’s behalf.

“And you planned on walking to the citadel with a broken ankle?”

“I will do whatever it takes to—”

I cut him off with a raised hand. “It looks either severely sprained or broken. I can’t tell which, but I can try to fix it.”

“Were you a healer in your world?”

“Maybe, and not really.” My two semesters of Sports Medicine in high school didn’t exactly make me a doctor, but I’d seen enough rolled ankles to know that Tiernan’s was screwed. “I know a little bit of healing magick, but it works best when I use it on myself. Also, your ankle might need to be set depending on if it’s really broken and to what degree, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Which means?”