Page 140 of Ravenrose

He protected me.

He pulled me out of that river after killing those men.

And when he left to come here, to save a village from unimaginable horrors, he let me come with them. Gave me a bow. Trusted me to keep my word and… help.

My word.

I promised him I wouldn’t run. At least not until the battle was over.

My heart twists in my chest as an inner war wages. I might not be able to hurt him, but if I walk away right now, I’ll be the one who killed him.

Because I’m the only one who can save him.

I stare at his face—his closed eyes, willing them to open. I want to see those steel-gray eyes one more time. Mocking me. Challenging me…

My gaze drops back to his wound and then to the growing pool of blood at his side.

Light, I’ve healed nothing like this before.

I don’t know if I can…

The rune still burns on my wrist, flaring in waves, pulsing like a dying star. My power only goes so far, and Ayers’ injury is grave.

But I could still try.

True intentions still unknown, he’s saved my life twice now.

I can’t explain it. I should hate him—I do hate him, but yet… I don’t think I can walk away, leave him to bleed out in the dirt alone while knowing I could’ve saved him.

I stare at his mark on my wrist and back to Ayer, my decision firming as I sheath Theo’s knife before kneeling down next to him. I release a shaky breath, my palm hovering just over his side, hesitating before touching him.

He’ll know.

I shake the thought from my head. I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. Whether my power will work is a big if.

I reach forward again, my fingers tracing gently along his side, marking the edges of the wound. Ayer shifts at my touch. Heat crawls up my neck as I feel his gaze settle on me, waiting until I finally lift my eyes to meet his.

“Hoping to get in the last hit, Princess?” he muses, though his voice is shaky. His skin is a terrifying shade of white.

“Something like that,” I whisper, pushing his shirt up to get a better look at his injury.

Light. The sword sliced clean between his ribs, leaving behind a two-inch gaping cut.

Ayer’s eyes roll back, his breaths turning shallow again beneath my palm.

It’s now or never.

Knowing I’ll probably live to regret this, I bury the thought, and pull anyway.

For several long seconds, nothing happens.

I close my eyes, focusing on my power, and pull again. I squeeze them tighter as I pull harder, drawing more of Ayer’s wound into myself. Fire rips through my flesh as muscle tears and bone protests, the injury settling into my body piece by agonizing piece. Warmth blooms from my ribs where my own blood spills out as I take the wound from him.

Ayer’s pain pours into me in one brutal rush, and I have to bite down hard on my lip to keep from screaming.

I can’t take it all—there’s no way—but if I can take enough… enough to chase off death… The pain is a good sign. It’s working. I can only hope it’s enough.

I pull and pull, the rune blazing as I wring every last drop of power from inside it. Ayer’s wound stitches itself together from the inside out, but the cost is more than I can bear. The lethal wound is just that—lethal. And I’m starting to doubt my ability to reverse that trajectory.