Page 133 of The Mad King and the False Queen

As Claude began to slip into unconsciousness, his mind magic wore off, and the amount of blood he was hiding increased tenfold. Then, like a stroke of paint, a scar etched down the side of Claude’s face. His left eye became discolored, intersecting the large scar perfectly. The mark was a shade lighter than his skin, and the one side of his face transformed into a gruesome wound.

Gasping, Dagmara yanked her hands away.

“I’m sorry…” Claude choked before his eyes shut completely and his head fell limp.

Sabien scoffed. “Never seen a scar before?”

“No, I—” Dagmara searched for words that never came. Her brain tried to process this new image of the king. There was no denying the giant scar across half his face. “He hid himself from me.”

“He hid his face from everyone,” Sabien said. “If people called me an ugly monster I would have done the same thing.”

Dagmara felt like her chest was being ripped in half.

Then Pierre interrupted the moment, landing on the ground beside them with a clumsy thud. He held a pail of water, splashing half the contents as he extended it toward Sabien. “Here!” he panted.

Sabien claimed the pail immediately. “You need to heal him.”

It wasn’t until Dagmara met Sabien’s gaze did she realize the captain was talking to her.

“The king doesn’t have time, it needs to be now,” Sabien ordered.

Then the realization struck her. He was asking her to use the Life Guardian’s healing powers. Powers that both Aleksy and Bogdan possessed, but she didn’t. Neither did Magdalena, but no one was supposed to know that. How could she reveal the truth in a moment like this when Claude’s life depended on her?

Claude’s life. Looking down at him, his face half disfigured, all the memories flashed before her. If she wanted to, she could let him die. He could be the reason Aleksy and Bogdan were killed. But something inside her fought against the urge. She didn’t want him to die. She didn’t want to admit the feelings she was starting to have for the Mad King.

“Princess!” Sabien yelled.

Her voice was barely audible as she said, “I can’t.”

“P-Princess,” Pierre stammed. “Please save my king.” His voice sounded so innocent. If only she could express that this wasn’t her choice. She wanted to save him, but she couldn’t.

“Magdalena,” Sabien said, his voice guttural. She met his gaze, and his chin angled down, his eyebrows raising. It was almost as if he meant to silently communicate something, but she was in too much distress to interpret it. “I know you’ve never healed someone else before, but you must now. I know you, I’ve watched you, and I know you can. Just channel it.”

Tears began to well in her eyes. “Sabien…I—”

With his free hand, Sabien lunged forward and grabbed her by the wrist. He slammed her palm against the bloody wound on Claude’s stomach. She wanted to pull away, the warmth of the blood making her sick, but Sabien placed his hand firmly on top of hers, holding it in place. She wanted to gag, her nausea overpowering her, and it took everything inside her to disregard the feeling of the wound against her skin.

“Close your eyes and channel now!” Sabien yelled as he poured the pail of water over their hands.

Dagmara squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears drip down her cheeks as the water rushed through her fingers. She prayed to anybody that could hear her, begging the guardians to save Claude. She remembered when he saved her from the hounds. She remembered dancing with him at the ball and sharing truths about one another in his chamber, the way he remembered her request for salt and learned the Azuremi waltz for her. Then there was the kiss in the forest where she felt emotions she hadn’t for anyone before. All of her feelings for him heightened in that moment, and she knew with horrid certainty that she was helplessly falling for him. No matter what secrets he held about King Bogdan, no matter what scars he had hidden from her, she was falling in love with him. She couldn’t lose him now.

Her palm began to tingle, a warmth spreading through each one of her fingers. A shudder ran up her entire arm, reaching her chest in a blaze that ignited the rest of her body. For a brief moment, everything inside her felt healed. No grief, fear, or pain. A jolt of magic blasted through her hand and entire body.

“Thank you, Princess!” Pierre exclaimed, his voice that of awe.

A wave of emotions returned as an onslaught. Dagmara’s eyes shot open, and she yanked her hand back, clutching it to her chest. Through the rip in Claude’s shirt, underneath the leftover blood, was smooth skin. The injury was gone.

The pail clattered to the ground as Sabien chucked it aside. “I told you,” he said, a proud smirk creasing his lips.

Dagmara looked down at her palm, her hand shaking uncontrollably. Her fingertips prickled with leftover magic.

What had she done?

CHAPTER 45

Dagmara

After the attack in Sailonne, Claude was unconscious the entire ride home. When they arrived back at the castle, he was quickly taken in by the royal nurses, making it impossible to ask him any questions. That evening, Dagmara washed away the battle, sitting in the tub until the water went cold. Every limb hurt, blood pooled in her feet making them a shade of purple, and she could feel her head pulsing. She would’ve fallen asleep had she not been preoccupied staring at her pruning fingers. She examined her palms as though they were foreign to her. How was any of this possible? How could she heal people and what did that mean?

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