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She watched wordlessly as the pair of Raeths gently laid him out on the wide couch in the middle of the room. Then Jaeda was kneeling by his side, two fingers going to his temple and the other hovering over the gaping wound in his shoulder.
The depth of the laceration hadn’t been apparent until the golden axe had been removed—and she’d been stunned to see that it’d almost split him in two underneath the onyx fighting leathers that were still strapped to his torso.
And he’d been standing and smirking in spite of it.
The fool.
But now, Isaiah’s handsome features were utterly passive, completely expressionless, as he lay prone on the white leather couch. And from what Rukia could tell, his collapse hadn’t been due to the wounds he’d suffered on the battlefield, nor had it been from the massive amount of blood that he’d lost from both injuries.
Jaeda placed her fingers atop his blood-drenched sparing clothes and they disappeared in an instant. She cursed as soon as his wounded torso was bared.
Rukia finally found her voice. “What’s happened to him?”
“He went into recoil.” Derikles didn’t bother looking up, his eagle-eyed attention focused on the Raeth lying motionless before him.
“What does that mean?”
Brow furrowing, she took a single step toward Isaiah, only to be met by another Raeth blocking her path. Glancing up at the intimidating figure, Rukia met his gaze eye for eye, unflinching at the malevolent stare. The male Raeth was easily six foot six, two hundred fifty pounds of muscle and was built like a tank. Eerily pale green eyes held hers as he looked down his nose at her.
“Xedrix, stop,” Jaeda chastised, but her attention was focused on her task. Moments later, her concentration softened, and she glanced up to Derikles. “His mind is intact.”
All the Raeths seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, some of the tension ebbing out of the room. Both of Jaeda’s hands came to hover over the massive, bloody split in Isaiah’s shoulder just as a knock came to the door. No one moved to answer it, and a red-haired Raeth appeared in the living room only seconds later.
Wincing as she took stock of Isaiah, Circe swiftly rounded the couch and knelt by Jaeda’s side. “Which wound?”
“Shoulder first,” Jaeda instructed. “He’s bleeding internally.”
A diligent nod before Circe’s hands joined Jaeda’s over Isaiah’s chest. Rukia shifted uneasily on her feet and clasped her arms together over her chest, suddenly feeling as if she were an intruder here, a voyeur into the private workings of Raeth clan life.
For the past two nights, Isaiah had been hers alone—her constant when her world had faltered. No small amount of possessiveness began to build within her, and if she was honest with herself, this wasn’t the first time she’d felt it. Regardless of his clan’s feelings towards her presence, she moved forward.
Being apart from Isaiah—especially when he was unconscious—didn’t sit right with her. Slipping past the giant, she crouched beside Jaeda. Pulling the barest traces of humidity from the air, she carefully began to wash away the blood that coated his pale skin, giving the healers a better picture of his injuries.
The slightest nod from Jaeda assured her that was she was doing was helping.
“You have water magic,” a deep voice said. “Are you a witch?”
Rukia glanced up to find the giant—Xedrix, apparently—smirking down at her. “’Witch’ is an outdated term with many hurtful stereotypes; we left our brooms in the nineteenth century. I prefer to be called an Elemental.”
“Neat. How fast can you fill up a swimming pool?”
Thrown off guard by the oddity and ill timing of his question, Rukia’s eyes narrowed. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how fast I want to drown someone.”
When he looked ready to ask another question, she was saved by Jaeda. “Rukia, Isaiah went into what’s called a recoil. Raeths of destruction, like Isaiah, get a sort of kick-back when they use their abilities, a rebound onto themselves.
Repositioning her hands, she continued, “He used his gifts—maliciously—when he took the life of his challenger, so it mirrors back on him to a degree. Essentially, it’s nature’s check and balance to ensure that destruction doesn’t circumvent creation. If he were to use it excessively, there’s a possibility he might not wake up.”
“Seems unfair, if you ask me.”
Rukia’s mind was still processing the information as she continued to wash the blood from his skin. With every drop she cleaned away, her heart tugged toward him, needing the tangibility of him to keep her world from shifting below her feet.
He’d been behind her when she’d most needed the support. When she fell victim to her own grief, Isaiah had picked up her broken pieces.
She wouldn’t fail him when he needed her. Even now, surrounded by healers and the people who knew him the best, Rukia was driven to see to his needs. To dosomethingthat might help him heal.
