Page 34 of Bound By Blood
"Then the boy dies." Thila shrugs. "And we learn the truth about humanhealing."
The child whimpers, small hand reaching blindly for comfort. Without thinking, I catch his fingers in mine. His skin is paper-thin, burning hot, slick with fever sweat.
They're testing me. Using an innocent child to prove I'm worthy or dangerous.
The calculation should horrify me. Instead, it clarifies everything. This isn't about the boy's life. It's about my place in a world that sees me as either tool or a threat.
"Fine." I settle beside the child, crossing my legs beneath me. "But if I fail, his death is on all our heads."
Ghasha's smile is sharp as the winter wind. "If you fail, human, his death proves what we've suspected all along."
I close my eyes, trying to recall the sensation from last night, the heat that built between Drokhan and me, the way power flowed like water finding its course. But that was passion, connection, love blazing bright enough to wake sleeping magic.
This is different. Clinical. Observed.
Focus on the child. Forget everything else.
I press both palms to his fevered chest, feeling the weak flutter of his heartbeat.Live,I think desperately.Just live.
Nothing.
The boy's breathing grows more labored. Vega shifts restlessly. Ghasha watches with predatory patience.
I can't do this. Not like this. Not under scrutiny and suspicion.
Then small fingers squeeze mine, and I look down into dark eyes full of pain and trust. He doesn't see human or Orc, enemy or ally. He sees someone trying to help.
For him. Not for them. For this innocent child, who deserves better than politics and prejudice.
I think of my mother's secret teachings, of herbs that shouldn't work but do, of healing that transcends understanding. I think of Drokhan's hands mapping my skin, of power flowing between us like shared breath.
Heat builds in my chest, not the wildfire of passion, but something steadier. Purposeful. I let it flow down my arms, through my palms, into the child's failing body.
The Kheval markings along my wrists glow.
Gasps echo around me, but I don't open my eyes. I can't afford distractions. The power is fragile, uncertain, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.
Heal,I whisper, mind and heart and soul focused on that single imperative.Heal and live and grow strong.
Light blazes behind my eyelids. The child's breathing eases. Under my hands, infected wounds close, poison burning away like mist before sunrise.
When I finally open my eyes, the boy sleeps peacefully, color returning to his cheeks. The angry red streaks have faded to faint pink lines. His fever has broken.
I slump backward, drained but triumphant. "He'll live."
Silence stretches like held breath. Then Ghasha speaks, voice carefully neutral.
"Impressive. But the real test isn't healing, human. It's what comes after."
Before I can ask what she means, footsteps thunder through the grotto. Drokhan appears, still in ceremonial armor, face dark as storm clouds.
His gaze finds mine across the space, and I see something I've never seen before in those amber depths.
Fear.
"What have you done?"
Drokhan's voice cuts through the grotto, but it's not directed at me. His eyes fix on Ghasha with barely restrained fury.
