Page 161 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

He can’t leave me now. Not yet.

Slapping and shouting does no good. Even if his eyes would just open and even if I could bear his weight, we’d never be able to make it to the school. Blood moves from his leg like a waterfall, filling the ground beneath me like a river. “Just. Wake. Up.” I turn to Wendy without leaving Leiholan and hold out my hand. “Channel me.”

Her eyes meet mine—the green less vibrant than they were a moment ago. In fact, the green of the entire corner of our garden looks less vibrant. But she nods, putting her palms on the floor and pushing herself to her feet, walking and sitting next to me. With sluggish movements, she pulls one glove off and grabs my hand.

Burnout overpowers me, and a pit the size of Wendy grows in my stomach, pushing me to puke. When I do almost puke, she lets go of my hand, and every feeling of burnout dissipates. I put together that this is Wendy’s feeling, not mine.

She grabs one of his arms and pulls him halfway upright, gesturing to me to grab his other side. We pull him upright entirely, walking his limp body to the school, his semi-attached leg dragging behind us. Sometimes I step in the puddles of blood that follow Leiholan and it splashes up my ankles.

We take him to a room I’ve never seen before, full of plants and jars of herbs and the walls are all made of wood: the infirmary. Three Eunoia rush around us, pulling him into a room and onto a bed, but no more of them come.

He’s going to need more of them.

Wendy nods to me once, her face still covered in spurts of blood, and she leaves. I follow into the room where Leiholan lies and one of the Eunoia says to me, “We can’t mend his leg.”

She moves across the room, grabbing a jar, and I recognize her. The woman who told me Lilac was attacked by a corenth from Soma.

The bed where Leiholan lays shines a bright green from the Eunoia’s magic. “But he’ll live?” I ask.

The woman rushes back to Leiholan and sprinkles something over his leg. I don’t know how that could help.

“Possibly.” Her hands light green again and the bleeding on Leiholan’s stump of a leg starts to lessen.

The three of them stop working, making their way to the door. The bleeding hasn’t even stopped. “You’re done?” I ask.

“The next group will come in soon,” the woman says to me.

“But he’s still bleeding.”

“We can’t risk burnout.”

“What about his life?” my voice strains.

“It’s up to Zola now,” she says to me like I’m a child. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Then give him more blood!” I hold out my fist to her, my wrist facing the ceiling. “Give him my blood.”

“The Folk can’t give to Nepenthe.” She looks stunned by my offer.

“Please,” I say, “just keep him breathing.”

She frowns, then she locks the door. “Look, there are rules around what we are allowed to do to heal the Nepenthe.”

“Okay,” I say, but she locked the door, so I know there has to be more.

She exhales a shaking breath and waits a little longer. “You’re a Fire Folk, aren’t you?” she whispers, and I nod. “If you cauterize his wound, that’s his best chance of survival.”

I shake my head and look at my hands like they are… what they are.

The enemy and now the savior.

“I—” my voice cracks. “I can’t…”

“It will take at least three rounds for us to stop the bleeding, and I don’t believe he has the time.”

My exhale comes fast and my inhale comes slow. “He’ll die if I don’t?” I ask, even though I understand her.

“Possibly.”

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