Page 52 of Twist of Fate

“You’re going to be my translator.”

“I would be honored.”

The healer looked toward the pixies gathered near the doorway. “I require space.”

They retreated several feet as a group, their disappointment obvious.

“May Avaneel stay?” Gomez asked.

The healer studied him, then the tiny pixie hovering beside Cosmo. “If she does not interfere.”

Avaneel darted to the bed and settled near Gomez’s hip. “I will help.”

“You will remain still,” the healer corrected.

“I will help by remaining still.”

“Acceptable.”

Luke glanced toward Connal. He remained where Silenus had ordered him to sit, one hand curled around the arm of the chair. Their gazes met. Connal gave a single nod.

Steady.

Present.

Luke looked back at Gomez.

The healer placed one hand above each fracture. Light spread beneath her palms, sinking into Gomez’s skin instead of resting across its surface.

Gomez sucked in a sharp breath.

“What do you feel?” Luke asked.

“Heat. Pressure.” His fingers tightened painfully around Luke’s. “And possibly ants crawling inside my bones.”

The healer frowned. “There are no ants.”

“Good. One less thing to worry about.”

The light brightened. Gomez’s joking expression vanished as a tremor moved through his legs. Luke’s pulse accelerated, but he kept his grip steady.

“You can tell her to stop,” he reminded Gomez.

“I know.” Gomez breathed slowly through his nose. “I’m okay.”

The magic followed the lines of the fractures. Luke could see where the breaks had been now, not because the bones were visible but because the light narrowed around them, drawing the damaged pieces together.

Gomez’s body tensed.

A soft crack came from beneath the healer’s hands.

Luke started forward.

Connal’s voice stopped him. “The magic is repairing what was broken.”

Luke looked at him.

Connal had not risen or attempted to interfere. If he believed Gomez was in danger, nothing—not injury, royal command, or common sense—would have kept him in that chair.