Page 34 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“Of course I do.”
My curt tone discourages further discussion, but she presses on, lowering her voice. “Scars of that number and magnitude usually suggest a difficult childhood…or a violent lover.” Her gaze shifts to the partition screen for a split second.
I take the edge off our conversation with a small smile. “I’m alright. Seth isn’t violent. Just annoying.”
Fae can’t lie, so she’s relieved to hear it, I’m sure.
Leona presses her lips together and squints at the scars once more. “If you told me what they were from, I might be able to help.”
“I’m beyond help where those scars are concerned,” I say firmly.
“Just sit here, then. I’ll get the Master Healer.”
She adjusts the partition screen to give me a bit of privacy and grills Seth about his brother’s wolves before heading off in a flurry of faint footsteps. Healers are a class of their own. They come from every Fae Court, known for their exceptional selflessness and good nature.
The silence hums in my ears, and I’m acutely aware of Seth’s presence a few feet away.
The legs of his chair scratch the floor. “What’s going on in there?” he says.
“Oh, just come in.”
I dangle my legs from the ledge of the exam table as he slips inside the room with his brows pulled together. He runs a hand up my bare arm, tracing the silvery scars, and his pupils dilate, his purple-flecked eyes overshadowed by a tempest of black swirling clouds. “What happened to you?”
“Don’t start. It’s none of your business.”
“I make it my business. There’s so many of them... Like your arm got chewed up by a Razorback Mauler before beingtossed through a shredder. In my book, whoever did this to you deserves to die?—”
“Shush,” I cut him off.
Leona returns with two colleagues in tow, and Seth steps in behind me, the heat of him radiating against my back as he rests a hand on my shoulder. His grip is both comforting and aggressive—his fingers digging in as though he wants to press the name of my tormentor out of me, like juice from a blood orange.
I could taunt him with the truth—that his mother’s curse is the root of it all. It’d make for a perfect jab, but it’s too personal, and I won’t reveal my inability to use magic without summoning all hells, not if I can help it.
The three healers examine my arm before the one wearing a dark grey robe adorned with a gold-threaded sash clears her throat. “You’re lucky, the venom hasn’t entered the bloodstream. We’re going to clean the bite with frost apple juice, but I’m afraid it’ll be very painful and unpleasant. To be blunt, it’ll feel like we’re sawing it off, but combined with our healers’ magic, it should rid you of the scars, too—the ones in that region of your arm that is.”
“Isn’t there a less painful or unpleasant option? Analgesia, maybe? ” Seth asks flippantly, his breathy tone stirring the sensitive hairs on my neck.
The healer focuses all her attention on me. “No. And we have to do it now, before the poison spreads.”
“Do it.” I wave Seth off. “You can go.”
He inches closer. “I’m staying.”
“You’re not one of those controlling men, are you? Because I could never marry a man like that.”
“Is it controlling to keep you company?” he deadpans.
“I just don’t get what use you are.”
The healers apply a cream to the rest of my arm to protect it from the treatment. “Do you want him to go?” one healer asks.
My mouth opens to tell him off, but before I can speak, he slips his hand into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world and whispers into my ear, “Just hold my hand, witch.”
I press my lips together.
“If we are going to convince my mother that you like me, even a little, you are going to have to get used to physical contact,” he adds quietly before turning to Percy. “What about you, Perce?”
In the blink of an eye, Seth’s scowl vanishes—replaced by a cocky, devil-may-care smile. My Faeling opens his mouth to scold him for using the pet name, but Seth adds, “B-man looked pretty flustered when he saw you. I’d never seen him like that. He looked about to faint.”
