Page 226 of Lana Pecherczyk
Cloud merely crossed his arms and stared back, and repeated, “It’s a fever.”
“What?” Ada blurted. “But, that’s not possible.”
“Nova—” Trix’s strained voice filtered from her bay.
“That was different,” Cloud countered. “The taint.”
He hadn’t left River and Blake’s side since saving them from falling. He’d even supported her continued, delirious pleas to collect the anatomy diagrams. When River protested about the risk, Cloud said,If this is her final request, honor it.
For once in his life, River listened.
But now this.
Now the light had faded from Blake’s eyes and was barely there in her mating marks.
River scrubbed his face. Blinked. Stared at Cloud. At Jasper. At Aeron, who was angrily signing to his huffing and puffing mate. The two kings looked like they were about to throw down with Cloud. This could spiral. Fast.
“We don’t have time for this shit!” he shouted, gesturing between them all. “Blake needs our help.”
“I know that, River,” Ada snapped, eyes flashing, her hand still on Blake’s clammy forehead. “It’s not like I’m knitting over here.”
Blake tried to speak, but no words emerged, just breathy hissing. Her clawed fists tightened and raised, but then seized. Convulsed. Ada held Blake down. Each jerk vibrated the mattress.
When the convulsions subsided, Blake moaned and flopped. Her fisted hands spilling toward Ada.
“What’s this?” She pried the crumpled paper from Blake’s fingers.
“The anatomy diagrams.” River pulled more folded pieces from his pockets and threw them at Ada. “Of the inner ear. You’re fucking welcome. Here’s everything she drew. Take it all. Just fix Blake.Please.”
I’m begging you.
I’ll do anything.
River watched as Ada quickly gathered the papers. Her eyes raced over each diagram until she found one in particular. Her hands moved over the sketch. Hope flickered in her eyes, but then her shoulders sagged. “Blake, some of these are smudged. I can’t make out this section of the inner ear.”
“She did it?” Trix’s elated screech transformed into a high-pitched scream of pain. “Oh—ow—oooh mygodit’s coming!”
River wanted to yell at them, to shake them. Blake was more important than hearing, than a new baby, than the entire world. But he knew he was about to snap. If he did the wrong thing now, he’d surely make everything worse.
Aeron’s hands flew in rapid signs at Ada. Then he grabbed Trix’s hand and sat at her side, looking as lost as River felt. Trix’s contraction ended, and she collapsed on her pillows, wincing and clutching her round belly.
“How’s she looking, Erith?” Ada called out as she returned her palms to Blake’s body, her brow creased in concentration.
River exhaled. Unclenched his fists. Ignored the bloody claw marks in his palms and watched Ada’s face for any sign of good news.
A robed healer—mage by the blue mana-mark on her lower lip—bustled into the room from the bathrooms with a bowl of steaming water in her hands. She took one look at the chaos, and her entire demeanor changed. Her jaw hardened. Her nostrils flared. She put down the bowl, shoved Aeron aside, and bent to check between Trix’s open legs. “She’s crowning.”
“Something’s wrong,” Ada mumbled. Her handglowedagainst Blake’s forehead, but then she jerked back. “The mana won’t—” She whirled and shouted at the mage, “Find Clara. West Palace Wing.Go.” To River, she explained: “Clara’s a fae healer. She’s old. Has seen a lot. She might be able to help. Until she gets here, there’s not much I can do.”
The defeatist tone in her voice broke River’s heart.
“Not much you can do?” He blinked. “Of course there is. You’re the best.”
Ada’s rueful gaze dropped to River’s molting wings. He tucked them behind him, out of sight, but velocity scattered more black and blue across the white tiles.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, River,” Ada murmured. “She’s not responding to mana. It’s almost like she’s”—her gaze dipped to the feathers on the floor—“rejecting it.”
He stepped on them to seize Ada’s wrist as she moved to leave.
