Page 48 of Elora and the Crow

“Nothing.” Bren looked away before abruptly saying, “Is Jonah dying, Elora? Is Ronin his only chance?”

“No,” Elora said quickly. “He isn’t dying, I just… I hate seeing him in pain, you know? And I happen to know someone who can heal him quickly, but even if Ronin wasn’t away, I also know how imperative it is that his abilities are kept secret and how dangerous it is for him the more people who find out.”

She took Bren’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Sorry, it was a dick move on my part to ask you for Ronin’s help. I’m just worried about Jonah and don’t want him to be in pain.”

“I know,” Bren said, “but the healing potions will help, and if they don’t, I promise to get Ronin here as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you, Bren. I love you, buddy.”

“I love you too, Elora.”

* * *

Everything hurt.

Jonah didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay in the blissful peace of the dark, but the pain wouldn’t let him. It clawed at his insides, sending agony shrieking down his back, through his skull, and along his ribs.

He inhaled deeply, smelling incense, candle wax, flowers, and Elora’s sweet scent. He smiled despite the pain. He was back in Elora’s home, and a wave of gratitude washed over him.

The gratitude disappeared when he was turned on his uninjured side, and cool air washed over his throbbing back. He groaned, his stomach churning so much he could barely hold back the urge to vomit.

“Hurts,” he groaned. “Please.”

“I know, honey,” Elora’s voice soothed, “but we need to rinse your back again before we apply the paste. Cece, can you hold him steady?”

The bed dipped, and he forced his eyelids up, staring at a blurry Cece who knelt on the bed beside him. Her warm hands pressed lightly against his shoulder as she urged him to lean into her.

“Hey, big guy,” she said.

“Hi, Cece,” he croaked out. “Where’s Elora?”

“I’m right here.” Elora leaned over him and smoothed his hair back from his sweaty face. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” he lied.

She rolled her eyes. “Now is not the time to play tough guy, Jonah. I need to know what hurts.”

“Everything,” he said, “but my back and head are the worst.”

Her soft hand soothed across his forehead again, tracing the wound left from the poisonous thorn liquid. “Can you drink this? It will taste bad, but it’ll help dull the pain.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Cece, help me sit him up,” Elora said.

Moving slowly, they eased him into a sitting position, but it sent scorching pain across his ribs, and he barked out a curse. “I can’t sit up, not with my rib… fuck, that hurts.”

“Okay, hold on, Jonah,” Elora said. “Cece, can you light the dark blue candle and bring me the spell book? Jonah, drink this now, please.”

She sounded calm and confident, and it helped ease some of Jonah’s fear and even a little of the pain. She pressed a cup to his lips, and he drank the bitter clear liquid. Elora took the cup away, and he gagged, his gorge rising.

“Don’t throw up,” Elora said sharply. “Take some deep breaths, Jonah.”

“Can’t,” he said, hating how petulant he sounded. “I have a broken fucking rib, remember?”

“I know,” she said as Cece returned and handed her a spell book. Elora quickly flipped through it before setting it on the bed beside her and studying the page.

“How is the pain?” she asked.

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