Instead, the master healer places one open palm in the open air behind Riven’s back.
Ambrose and the other three hold his body still on the bed.
My brows wrinkle in confusion as I grip Riven’s hand, but then the wooden end of the arrow moves, sliding into his chest. His hand tightens on mine as a deep groan rips from his throat. His eyelids flutter.
“I’m here,” I croon, my voice shaking with the same tremble gripping my limbs. “You’re going to be fine.”
Please. Please let it be true.
The shaft disappears completely in his chest. I gag as blood bubbles from the wound, spilling onto the bed, before an assistant presses a cloth to the wound. Riven’s hand tightens painfully on mine, bringing tears to my eyes.
I swallow the bile in my throat and try to block out the pain in my hand. “It’s almost over,” I say, as much for me as for him. “We’re right here. It’s almost out.”
The master healer’s magic pulls the rest of the arrow free.
Riven’s hand loosens on mine. His eyelids still as unconsciousness claims him once more. A wave of magic zips through the air as the healer’s brows crease in concentration, his jaw set firm.
“Bandage the front wound,” he grits out. “I have to leave it open for the poison to seep out.”
It feels like I’ve been trapped in this moment a lifetime, whispering silent and spoken prayers and pleas to any god who will listen. Time doesn’t matter much when the balance of a life could tip either way in a heartbeat.
The wound on Riven’s back has been healed with magic, cleaned, and wrapped for good measure, but the one on the front remains, covered in layers of cloth bandages. They adjust Riven onto his back on the bed. Putrid smells seep from the wound, causing me to gag, as the healers continue to weave their magic into Riven’s body, preventing the poison from claiming his life.
Solona rushes into the room. “Where is—”
“Shh,” Ambrose replies, but he doesn’t need to.
Solona has gone absolutely still. Only her eyes widen as she stares at Riven’s unconscious form.
“How bad…” Her words are barely audible.
“Bad, but Iason is doing everything he can,” Ambrose says.
Iason, the master healer, sways on the bed. Sweat drips from his forehead. His eyes stare at nothing as he concentrates fully on his magic. His body wobbles again, and this time Ambrose grabs his shoulder, steadying him.
The touch brings the healer back to the moment. “My magic is almost done. But it should be enough, at least for now. Riven’s magic is fighting the poison along with my own.”
The room breathes a collective sigh of relief at the positive prognosis, though Riven is far from healed, even with the combined power of the master healer, his apprentices, and Riven’s own magic.
The apprentice healers help Iason from the room. The dearth of magic causes him to stumble and struggle. They carry the dirtied cloth and supplies out with them.
Karin follows shortly after to acquire clean linens for the bed.
Solona climbs onto the bed next to Riven, brushing sweat-damped hair back from his face with motherly care.
“I’ll watch him for a bit if you want to check on your sister,” she whispers.
May.I manage a small nod. “Thank you.”
Chapter 38
Sylviesitsnexttothe couch May lies on, rubbing something between her fingers. She drops it as I step into the room and wipes at her face, trying to hide her tears. As I near, the object becomes clear: a golden leaf strung on a cord around her neck. It could be the twin of Galen’s earring.
My throat tightens. Yes, I’m almost certain it is. This day has been hard on so many of us.
Sylvie tucks the necklace back down her shirt. “You truly think he didn’t want to do it?” she whispers.
“I’m certain. If I’d rejected Sigurd’s offer…” I shake my head. “It’s my fault Galen ended up in that situation.”