Page 68 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Lady Selene’s smile tightens. “Your presence always brings . . . illumination, Lord Robin Goodfellow. Though one wonders if it aligns with Rhiannon’s teachings of balance and harmony.”
Puck grins wider. “Why, of course, I’d be delighted to take over your lesson.”
Her jaw drops, then closes. The Baleful Hunt’s eyes flash, and she forces a smile.
Interesting.
Now that he is dragon-bonded like her, she seems to fear him. Or at least is wary. She walks out of the way as he circles theroom. He stops by Geraldine and me, his opaque eyes taking in our lesson.
“You know,” he announces to the class, “sometimes the one wielding the blade is most qualified to treat the wound. Isn’t that right, Nothing?”
The world lurches. I’m in a dark room, blood-scent thick in the air.
My own voice, younger and hollow, recites mechanically:
“Femoral artery severed. Ten seconds: Massive blood loss begins. Twenty seconds: Blood pressure drops precipitously. Thirty seconds: Consciousness fades. Forty-five seconds: Brain activity ceases. Sixty seconds: Heart stops.”
A whimper from the figure before me, bound and bleeding. My hands, slick with red, hold the blade that caused this suffering.
“Good,” Nero nods. “Now make it happen. Show me you understand.”
“Willow?” Geraldine’s voice snaps me back. Her warm hand grounds me. “Are you okay?”
I blink rapidly, banishing the phantom scent of blood.
“Fine,” I lie, unable to meet her eyes.
Under Puck’s tutelage, the lesson quickly escalates. Mock injuries become severe—crushed throats, eviscerated bowels. My earlier calm evaporates.
Heath offers gentle guidance amidst the tension. A commotion across the room draws my attention. Irisa kneels on Becky’s throat, pretending to be in a battle. Becky struggles, tapping Irisa’s knee.
Lady Selene quickly moves across the floor, saying, “Remember the moon’s lesson. In the darkness, we find light’s seeds. In pain, healing’s potential.”
As the lesson nears its end, Puck claps his hands. “Let’s make this fun, shall we? One final test—a real wound to treat.”
Lady Selene’s eyes flash. “Ser Robin, we tread dangerous ground. Rhiannon teaches growth through reflection, not forced trauma.”
Puck’s look silences her. “Sometimes, true learning requires sharp reality.”
“Balance is not achieved through dominance or neglect, but by recognizing the worth of both sides.”
“Are you saying we must recognize the worth of Nightmares robbing our people of children?”
Her lips part. No words come out.
“Hm.” He gives her a scathing once-over before addressing the class. “Sounds exactly like something a dragon-bonded would say. They’ve never fought in the belly of a battle, have they?”
Hesitant murmurs of agreement spur him on.
“It’s hypocritical, isn’t it?” He sneers at Lady Selene. “They preach about empathy, but do any of them feel our wounds when we’re sliced open by the enemy? This is why I will be your first member of the Shining Host to enter the thick of battle with our prevailing exhibitors.”
The voices of agreement grow louder, encouraging. I have to admit, Puck has a way of capturing approval without really proving himself. He’s a slimy sucker who doesn’t deserve this praise. Maybe that’s why I blurt out a fault in his claim. “How can you be the first? Aren’t the Knights?—”
“They have no working dragon,” he snaps, cutting me off. Visibly flustered, he quickly points to Geraldine and me. “You two demonstrate a battle wound. Make it real—needing stitches. This is battlefield triage, after all.”
Lady Selene protests, “We didn’t practice suturing.”
“I saw some playing with tourniquets and needles.”
