“Will your healers really be able to heal my wound in a few hours?” she asked, leaning back into him for the support she desperately needed.
“Our Healers use magic to heal, so yes. And once you have detoxed from your damn tonic, your Fae abilities will start healing you as soon as you are injured. Although a Healer would still be required for a shirastone wound that extensive,” Sorin answered.
Scarlett had just started to make out shapes far in the distance ahead of them when Sorin slowed Eirwen down to a walk. “Don’t you want to catch up to them?”
“Eliza knows we are here,” he replied. “Is your wound hurting more than you are telling me?”
“No,” she lied. “Why are you asking?”
“Because you were stabbed with shirastone, Scarlett. It is extremely painful for Fae, even with the ointment. Shirastone wounds for Fae can be fatal, as you well know.”
“It’s fine. It just seems more sore since sleeping on the ground and then riding and having to use the muscles to maintain balance in the saddle and—”
Sorin’s arm came around her the next moment, gently tugging her farther into the cradle of his hips, his hand settling onto her own. “A necessary touch,” he said softly into her ear, making her stomach dip.
“How is this necessary?”
“Because it is necessary to ease your discomfort.”
“Easing my discomfort is not a necessity.”
“It most certainly is,” he replied.
They rode in silence as he eventually eased Eirwen into a trot, and they got closer and closer to the others.
“I want to tell you a story,” he said after an hour or so, and he pressed a piece of bread into her hand. She smiled as she took a small bite. They were near enough to the others now that she could see Callan glancing over his shoulder at them, and she could make out Eliza ahead of everyone, her red-gold hair shining in the sun.
“All right,” she said slowly.
“After the end of the Great War, after the Avonleyans had been sequestered to their continent, Deimas and Esmeray still wanted revenge against the Fae who had fought against them,” Sorin started. His fingers had slowly started making small circles where his hand rested on her hip.
“I know this story,” Scarlett cut in. “They created the wards to keep the Fae from entering the mortal kingdoms. To keep the humans safe.”
“But I have already told you that the Fae never wanted to harm the mortals.”
“Then…why did Deimas and Esmeray create the wards?”
“They didn’t. The Fae did, with the help of the Witches.”
“The Fae created wards to keep themselves isolated in their own lands?”
“Partially. They created the wards to keep the Fae in and to keep Deimas and Esmeray and their supporters out after they exacted their revenge,” Sorin replied.
“The wards weren’t the revenge?” Scarlett asked.
“No, Love, the wards were not their revenge. You already know what their revenge was. What happened to the Court Royals,” he said softly.
Scarlett swallowed. “The Court Royals were killed for their aid of Avonleya.”
“Yes,” he answered. “The Princes and Princesses of the Courts were slaughtered very publicly over a century after the Avonleyans were secluded. They also eventually killed the Queen of the Eastern Courts, one of Esmeray’s sisters, and the King of the Western Courts.”
“I was taught they did so to make the Fae think twice about trying to enslave the humans again,” Scarlett said quietly.
“They did so to make us think twice about standing against them again.”
“You were alive during this time?”
“I was young by Fae standards, decades old, but I remember the slaughter of the first Prince of the Fire Court and his wife.”