Page 39 of Courting the Fae Captain
Jaren asked, frustration evident in his tone, “Then why aren’t we applying a drawing ointment to remove the poison? What about the antidote? Surely Margaery has synthesised one in the years she’s been with us.”
I lifted my head skyward and blew out a breath before pinning Jaren with my gaze. “There is no medicinal cure. So if we don’t have any Blood Mages here…”
“No, that’s not happening. I’ll grab those supplies and a drawing ointment.” As he headed for the door, he paused to look over his shoulder, his face a mask of determination. “Don’t let him die, Aeris.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I whispered after he’d left.
Raithe’s body was deadly still on the countertop as I leaned over him. His eyes flickered beneath the closed lids, his breath a low rattle with every slow rise and fall of his chest. If not for the pain that pulled at his mouth and creased his features every so often, I could almost imagine he was peacefully sleeping.
I ran my fingers through his tousled black hair, pushing it back out of his face. The sunlight peeking through the stainedglass apothecary window reflected like a prism on his face, the reds, greens, and blues dancing over his pale skin.An artist might have sculpted his face, handsome as it was. Chiselled and sharp, but soft in secret moments. His body was a wall of muscle, his features masculine and pronounced, but I had seen a subtle joy in his lips, if only for a moment. I had seen the sadness in his eyes when that mask had slipped. And I … I wanted to see more. Wanted to smooth out the wounds of the warrior to know the male beneath.
“You cannot die, Raithe,” I said close to his face. “I will not allow it.” There was little I could do except keep him comfortable until the other returned. Still, I looked around, feeling helpless, then reached a tentative hand towards his own. Thinking better of it, I began to pull away, just as Raithe’s palm lashed out, grabbing my wrist so suddenly that I yelped in surprise. His eyes snapped open, finding mine immediately, and he visibly relaxed slightly.
“Aeris,” he breathed.
It sounded like a prayer on his lips. “I’m here,” I responded.
“If I don’t make it…”
“Hush,” I said softly. “You will. Of course you will.”
“Promise me you’ll find her,” he said, his focus sharpening. “And live. Win the Rite or escape, butlive.”
I swallowed the thick lump forming in my throat. “I will. I swear. But remember, there is no Rite if you don’t survive. I need you to live, too, Raithe. Besides, we haven’t had the chance to fake court each other. We’ve got a ball to attend, remember?”
“It isn’t … fake…” His words trailed off as he coughed fitfully. The black that dribbled from his lips was alarming, but I wiped it gently with a cotton square from my pocket. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his thumb skated over my hand before he passed out. I stared at the skin he had touched. My brows knitted. It isn’t fake?
Jaren came hurtling in with supplies in tow.I jerked my hand away from Raithe immediately. Jaren noticed, but he didn’t say anything as he dumped the items on the counter. “What do you need?”
“I need a damn healer,” I snapped as I scrubbed a hand over my face. I looked at my combat instructor sheepishly and shook my head. It wasn’t fair to direct my fear and frustration at Jaren. He was Raithe’s closest friend and was feeling much the same as I was right now. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no one else here, Aeris. Snap out of it and focus.” His brown eyes held only conviction and hope. “Tell me what to do.”
“Okay.” I nodded and mentally got my shit together. “I need you to hold him firmly. He’s unconscious and hopefully stays that way, but this is going to hurt.”
Jaren set his hands on Raithe as I grabbed the arrow’s shaft. “Ready.”
I snapped the arrow and pulled it out in one quick motion. Raithe thrashed as blood poured from the wound, and I looked to Jaren. “Hold him still.” I cleaned the site quickly with water, then alcohol, resulting in a hiss from Raithe. Then I covered the wound in drawing ointment and pressed gauze to his shoulder. I didn’t think the ointment would do much. The poison was already in his bloodstream, but it gave Jaren hope. “Put pressure on it. All we can do now is wait.”
“I’m here,” a voice said behind me.
I turned, then stiffened as Portia walked in behind the soldier. “You can’t be serious,” I said to the male. “No healer? No one else?”
“You asked for a Blood Mage and I delivered,” he said gruffly. “We’re in the Shadow Court, remember? Blood Mages are hard to come by.”
Portia offered me a triumphant grin as she stalked up to the captain and stroked his chest like she was reuniting with alover. The audacity—the possessiveness in that gesture—I saw red. Without meaning to, without knowing how exactly I even did it, my shadows sprang up, curling around my legs and torso in quick, fluid spirals.
She looked at the plumes, her eyes glittering with amusement. “You can go now. I’ve got him from here.”
“I will not,” I retorted. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Her smirk faltered. “I…”
“That’s okay.” I forced myself to calm down, then walked to stand beside her. She stiffened at my proximity but remained quiet. I racked my brain, trying to remember everything I’d learned fromAn Alchemist’s Guide to Herbal Remediesabout Faebane.“The poison is in his bloodstream. I need you to … purify it.”
She looked at me with a raised brow. “You want me to do what now? I usually use my power for combat, you know, not healing. You’ll need to be specific.”
I winced, aware of how absurd and unconventional my request was, but I’d read about such things being done before. There had been rare cases of Blood Mages becoming healers despite the nature of their magic. It wasn’t ideal, but … desperate times. “You will need to filter out the bad blood. Can you identify the blood thickening from the poison and then separate it from his bloodstream?”
