Page 110 of Path of the Dark
37
Blood is Blood
ASHER DREW BACK from the bed and straightened up. His face was strained, his eyes hollowed with fatigue. On his palm, the bolus of lantern-light he’d been using to heal Elias faded. “That’s it,” he murmured. “The rest is up to him.”
Opposite Asher, Ryana cast him a weary smile. “You should get some rest … you look ready to drop.”
Asher cast her an arch look. “So do you.”
Ryana stifled a yawn and waved her friend away. “I’m fine … off you go.”
On the bed between them lay Elias. He was still unconscious; although there was some color to his cheeks now, his breathing had deepened, and his pulse was strong. The wound to his shoulder had been reasonably easy to deal with, but the one to his side—from the shadow pike Gael had driven into him—had caused some serious damage.
It had taken Asher hours to begin the mending process, before Ryana had wrapped a bandage around his torso.
Asher stretched his back and rubbed a hand over his face. “Shadows, I’m so tired I can barely think.”
“Go find Mira,” Ryana urged. “She didn’t look in a good way earlier.”
“She sustained a lot of cuts, shallow flesh wounds mostly … but lost a lot of blood,” Asher replied, his features tightening. “She’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”
“So will we all.”
Asher moved toward the door. Reaching for the handle, he glanced over his shoulder. “I was impressed by what you did back in the square … standing up to Nathan like that.”
Ryana huffed. “In hindsight it was a bit foolish.”
“Well it worked … he listened to you.”
“Thank you for helping Elias.”
Asher shrugged, his mouth curving. “Whatever our differences in the past, I was never going to let him die … not after he saved your life.”
The door clicked shut as Asher let himself out, and the room fell silent. It was a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling, expensive rugs covering the floor, and an arched window that looked out over the city. Ryana had closed the shutters. A single lantern burned on a low table.
Ryana settled back in the upholstered chair beside the bed, her gaze settling upon Elias once more. Anxiety quickened her breathing, puncturing the cloak of fatigue that hung over her. She’d seen that terrible wound to his side before Asher had begun his healing—such injuries were often fatal.
Leaning forward, Ryana placed a hand over Elias’s, squeezing firmly. In the flickering lantern-light his cheeks looked slightly flushed. She hoped he wasn’t getting a fever.
“Asher says that he’s done all he can,” she murmured. “You must fight now, Elias.” Her vision blurred. Exhaustion had rendered her more tearful than usual. “Don’t you dare die.”
Elias awoke to sunlight warming his face.
Eyelids flickering, he slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a soft, comfortable bed in a richly decorated chamber.
The Swallow Keep.
Elias closed his eyes, trying to remember how he’d gotten here.
He recalled the battle, seeing his father fall, and then spying Ryana in the midst of it all. He’d then fought his way across to her, just as Gael had been about to kill her. The struggle that had followed had been swift and brutal. He’d injured the enchanter, but the man had been fearsomely strong—stronger than any man Elias had ever fought—and he’d bested him.
Elias remembered then, the searing agony down his side as Gael stuck him with that pike. After that the world had gone dark.
“Finally … I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day.” A woman’s voice greeted him.
Elias opened his eyes once more and turned his head, his gaze settling upon Ryana.
She sat in a big chair, her legs pulled up under her chin. Her blonde hair was a mess, there were dark smudges under her eyes, and her face looked drawn—yet Elias had never seen anything more beautiful.
