Page 66 of Cursed

I’ve cycled through the stages of grief several times now. I’m about to hit on anger again.

Rourke is the only one not completely drained magically. But the tiny, frail girl in his arms looks like she weighs a thousand pounds the way he carries her.

I want to be pissed at Shayla’s friend, but it isn’t her fault. Myra didn’t ask to be kidnapped, drained, or even rescued by us.

My nature tells me to tear all the realms to shreds in my rage. But Shayla wouldn’t want that. That thought is the only thing stopping me.

Instead, I sulk. If I had a tail, it would be tucked between my legs right now.

Arden looks more Viking berserker than peaceful druid.

I don’t dare speak to him. I wouldn’t be able to fight him off if he lost his shit on me. I would have to tear into his throat and drink him down.

And again, Shayla would disapprove of that.

The memory of Shayla being dragged into the asylum plays over and over in my mind like a horror movie clip.

That wretched place is one of the most heavily warded places in all the realms. There are no weak access points to gain entry like the academy had. Or none that I know about.

Tavi, the flower faerie spokesperson, flies up to the sanctuary’s border and gazes out beyond us, as if searching for the Sparkle Mage. Tavi’s light seems to dim, reading our mood. Or perhaps she knows what’s happened with her faerie network reporting back to her.

She honors our loss by not speaking to us as she flies along with our procession toward our cottage.

When we stagger in, the space feels so hollow.

Rourke sets Myra down on a bedroll that has a soft pallet under it in the smaller room.

I glance at Arden, our coven’s healer, and see his resistance to going near the girl. It might be due to his rage that he can’t seem to swallow down.

It makes sense. The asylum killed his mother, and now it holds his soulmate, his dyad.

I huff and kneel down to inspect the girl’s condition.

This will not be all in vain.

I pull back the sheet I had inadvertently grabbed when I snatched her up. She’s a wisp of the girl I remember dancing with Shayla from the norms party.

Her color is much better than when I had seen her in the hospital during previous visits. Her breaths are no longer shallow.

Arden grumbles, crouches down opposite me, and hovers his hands over her body. He closes his eyes and reads her. “She’s definitely improved from before. Her consciousness is right at the surface.”

“I heard her whimper a few times during the skirmish outside the hospital,” Rourke says from where he’s collapsed on the bed.

“We need to give her liquids and…” Arden growls with irritation. “I should give her some healing energy since she doesn’t have that from the healers anymore.”

Something’s going on that he’s not telling us. With the softest voice I can muster, I ask, “Why are you resistant to giving her your healing touch?”

“WhenIheal, I connect with the person. I didn’t mind doing that with Shay.”

“Because she’s your dyad,” I finish for him. “So I suppose we shouldn’t expect any healing from you if we needed it.”

“It’s different. Not that you’d likely need my assistance, but you’re coven now. Family.”

Rourke tenses in the corner, feeling left out again.

“Yeah, even you, lizard breath,” Arden mumbles.

My dragon shifter chuckles softly at that. Maybe because it feels more normal to have this exchange. Taking our mind off the horror that is our life.

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