Page 70 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“You said that it disappeared after you were held captive?” Diomi asks.
“Yes. Mal—he’s the half-dryad in our party—thinks the trauma of the torture diminished my inner flame.” I feel the familiar spike of frustration whenever I think about it. Knowing that the thing blocking my magic is insideme, I can’t help but feel I’m the one holding myself back. But no matter how hard I fight to move on and not let the memories overtake me, my power remains elusive. “As a solari, I rely on the celestial spark more than the average magic user,” I add.
I see the sympathy in his eyes and feel hopeful.
“Torture…” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think I will ever understand the things humans and fae dream up to do to each other.”
“Will you help undo the damage?” I ask, staring him down.
“It’s not exactly the type of injury we’re used to healing,” Diomi says. “Celestial flames aren’t particularly receptive to viatic magic.” He pauses, and I can see the cogs turning in his mind. “But it’s possible the gaidonesti could help. It wasn’t something we could offer prior to the attack because some on the council were fearful of revealing the existence of the stones. But now…”
“Now I know about them,” I say. “You have Haldim to thank for that.”
I watch him, letting the implication of my words set in. It’s their fault we’re in this position, and they still have work to do to make amends.
I can tell Diomi understands, because he shifts a little and examines my leg again.
“Let’s try you walking on it,” he says, rising and offering me his hand.
He’s healed me beautifully. There’s nothing but a bit of stiffness to indicate that just an hour ago, my leg was a shattered mess.
“It’s incredible,” I say, studying my limb with amazement.
“Thank you,” Diomi says, and again I’m reminded of Etusca when he smiles. Then his face grows serious, and he reaches a decision.
“I’m sorry about everything you’ve been through, Your Highness,” he says. “Someone should never come to Agathyre and only find themselves inmore pain. I will speak to the council about helping you heal your flame, and I’ll let you know their decision tomorrow.”
LEON
I find Etusca and the others. Once I tell them what’s happened, it’s like I’ve lit a fire under the nursemaid. She storms into Aquila Hall, and when she returns, she comes with half the council and a small army of attendants. Suddenly, the dryads are tripping over themselves to act like gracious hosts, finding a place to stable our horses, unloading our packs, and insisting we follow them to the residences.
“Diomi’s already finished up with Ana,” she says when I tell her I want to be back with the princess, not ushered into some fancy guest quarters. “She’s waiting for you in her room.”
Relief floods through me when I see Ana standing tall on both feet. I want to pull her straight into my arms, but I stop short when I remember Etusca’s there, watching.
“Don’t mind me,” she says, making an exaggerated show of averting her gaze. I hug Ana tightly enough that she laughs, her voice muffled.
“Careful or you’ll break another bone,” she says.
I release her, and she beams up at me. “I spoke to Diomi while he healed me. There are celestial stones here in Starfall, and he thinks they could help bring my magic back.”
“He told you about the gaidonesti?” Etusca asks, shocked.
“I discovered them myself when I practically fell on top of them,” Ana says. “They’re what gave me the power to stop the mortifus.”
Understanding dawns on Etusca’s face. “He’s going to ask the council if they can use them to help you?”
Ana nods. “He said he’ll try to call a vote on it tomorrow morning.”
Determination crosses Etusca’s face. “Well then, looks like I have some council members to talk to,” she says.
“I though Diomi told you not to meddle?” Ana points out.
Etusca makes a dismissive noise. “He just doesn’t want to hear about his older sister pestering his colleagues. But the council are there to represent the people, and anyone’s allowed to appeal to them ahead of a vote. They’ll hear what I have to say.”
Ana crosses the room, taking Etusca’s hand in hers and squeezing it.
“Thank you,” she says.
