Page 61 of Scorched By Fate

I ached to cross the room, to help. To pick her up andmakeher rest. But I held back. She glanced up, looked at me, and then away as if I wasn't there at all.

Kaiya beckoned me over to a table crowded with half-empty bowls, jars, and fresh bandages. The pungent smell of herbs stung my nostrils. She clutched a mortar and pestle, her eyes dark with fatigue. When I placed the clamps on the table, she gave me a weary smile.

“How many more can you make?” she asked.

“As many as you need.”

She nodded. “We’ll need plenty. Anything you've got, really.”

I only nodded. My gaze slid to where Selene was gathering supplies near a cracked crate. Her hair was falling out of the string she'd used to tie it back. Even from there, I saw fresh shadows under her eyes. She rose and walked toward us with purpose, looking at me once, so briefly I might have imagined it.

“Are those the new clamps?” she asked Kaiya. I might as well have not existed.

Kaiya gestured at the metal pieces. “Yes—Vyne just brought them.”

Selene lifted one of the clamps, working the hinge with her fingers. For a second, I thought I saw approval in her eyes. Then her expression went flat. “They’ll do.” She set the clamp back onto the table and marched off. My chest tightened at the dismissal.

This was worse than I thought.

A fit of coughing erupted nearby, sharp and grating. One of the sick—an older male I recognized but couldn't name—lurched in his bed.

Selene was already moving. “Kaiya, get me a clamp—and more bandages, quickly!” She rushed over, fear barely masked behind focus.

I was right on her heels, crossing the space in a single stride. “I’ve got him,” I said, bracing the convulsing Drakarn’s upper body. His tail flailed dangerously near Selene, and I tightened my grip, trying to keep her out of harm’s way. My own tail shot out, wrapping with his and wrangling it down like we were wrestling.

The smell of blood tainted the air; the Drakarn’s wound spurted a fresh stream of foul fluid. Selene pressed her hand to his cheek. “Easy,” she soothed, though I could see the fear in her eyes. “You’re tearing your wound wider. Let us help you.”

He roared again, but his voice cracked, the delirium looking painfully close to panic. Claws raked the air, nearly catching my arm. I shifted, tucking one arm under his and gripping tight so Selene could work.

Kaiya dashed back with bandages. Selene snatched them, her face set in fierce concentration. She juggled disinfectant and the clamp, pressing the wound’s edges together while the Drakarn bucked. My arms trembled with the force of holding him.

“Stay still,” I growled into his ear. He gave another ragged bellow, head snapping back against my shoulder.

Selene finally fitted the clamp into place, securing the torn flesh. The male let out a guttural groan, his body dropping from fevered tension to exhausted stillness. “Almost done,” she whispered, grabbing a suture kit and stitching around the clamp’s edges. Her touch was deft, every movement swift but precise. When she finished, she exhaled, pressing one hand over his wound to keep the clamp from slipping.

I let out a long breath, easing my hold. The Drakarn sagged onto the cot with a weak moan. Blood matted my forearm—mine or his, I didn’t know. My shoulder stung from the line of fresh cuts, but I barely noticed it. I was too busy watching Selene.

Her eyes lifted to meet mine. For an instant, we were the only two people in the room. “Thank you,” she said.

A ripple of something like longing passed between us. The moment cracked, and she pulled away, dabbing blood from her hands as she spoke to Kaiya. Without another word, she slipped into the corridor to wash. My entire body hummed with tension. I wanted to follow her, demand she let me hold her, comfort her, take her away from this place. But the braced line of her shoulders was a warning: not now.

Kaiya gave me a quick nod before turning back to the patient. The healing caverns settled down as the crisis ebbed, leaving me with nothing to do but stare at the space where Selene had disappeared.

Anger churned in me that I couldn’t fix this, that I couldn’t protect her from any more pain. She needed room to breathe. All I wanted was to shield her from the world so she could.

The glow of crystals lit my path back to the small, stuffy forge. A half-finished anvil sat waiting, flickers of heat dancing over the coals. I moved toward it, hammer in hand. Work wasthe one thing I could do without question, the one way I could still stand beside Selene—indirectly if not literally.

Drawing a deep breath, I plunged a fresh bar of steel into the embers, coaxing the orange glow until the metal softened. I withdrew it with a pair of tongs and laid it on the anvil. Sparks flew at my first strike, bright motes that collapsed before hitting the ground. My muscles ached from overuse, sweat already slicking my scales. But I kept swinging, forging a tool this time—a delicate, curved retractor that Selene and Kaiya might use to hold tissue in place for sutures. If I could improve even one procedure, maybe Selene would suffer fewer nightmares of watching her patients bleed out.

Each blow of the hammer became a vow: I would do everything in my power to prove I was more than trouble and hunger. I’d stand beside her, bolster her when she wavered. If the best I could do was to twist steel into useful shapes, then I’d do it until my arms failed. In this hush, I made a promise to her, to us, even if she didn’t hear it right now.

If she needed space, I’d give it. If she needed time, I’d wait. But I would not vanish.

I placed another steel bar into the coals. I wasn’t stopping until dawn. That was the one thing that felt certain: keep forging, keep giving, keep proving. No matter how many blows it took.

TWENTY-FOUR

SELENE

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