Page 46 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
“You have to do what you think is right, Isa,” he said. “No one else can make that decision for you.”
But it was never a choice at all. She couldn’t let Leif die, not if there was even the smallest chance she might save him. She exhaled a shaky breath, then stood up and moved to the bedside. The room fell silent, all eyes focused on her.
Isolde touched Leif’s side gingerly. The current rose eagerly, waiting just below the surface. She recalled that day with the flower. She had drained it of magic, then fed it back. But Leif had no magic to drain. So how was she supposed to do thesame? Her hands brushed his skin, tentative and unsure. Nothing happened at first, but when she tried to reach out, there was something. A thread.
Without thinking, she removed the bandage. The cut was awful, a jagged, mangled tear in Leif’s side that ran down from the bottom of his ribcage to his hip. Isolde had read enough medical texts to realise it was a miracle he hadn’t already bled out.
Placing her hands on the torn flesh, she closed her eyes and tried to feel for the thread. To her shock, it was there right away, waiting for her. A web, broken. A mess of tangles. She reached out, shaking, and poked. The threads responded, like the strings of an instrument, and it wasbeautiful. Her eyes snapped open again with a gasp. The now-familiar blue glow surrounded her entirely, her ley markings shining brighter than ever. She was only dimly aware of the others in the room. All that mattered was the thread, the ripped tapestry of life before her.
“Alright then, Leif,” she whispered. “I think we can do this.”
She plunged back into the current, drawing in the threads, reconnecting them where they were broken. Her own magic poured into the web, strengthening it where the strands were gone, knitting new ones to bridge the gap.
Pain gradually built in her skull. At first she was not aware of it, but it increased relentlessly until it was a spear right through her brain. But she wasn’t done; there were still loose threads. Tangles, frayed ends. The current raged, no longer gentle. Her breath hitched, and her limbs trembled. She poured more of herself into Leif than she knew she had. More than was wise. Then something snapped in her head, and her knees buckled. Her bloodied hands slid down Leif’s side as she fell, slowly, sluggishly. Strong arms caught her around the waist before she hit the floor, and then there was nothing but darkness.
18
Completely delirious
He caught her just in time, cursing himself for not thinking of getting her a chair. She was light as he gathered her into his arms, too light. Her skin was clammy, and the ley markings had darkened to an eerie, ink-dark shade he had never seen before.
“Isa,” he breathed, panic surging through him as her head lolled against his arm, “talk to me.” He carried her to the bedroom, Luella following on his heels.
“She’s breathing,” Luella said once Felix had laid Isolde on her bed, pressing two fingers against her neck. “It’s probably only exhaustion.”
As she busied herself with pillows and blankets, Felix turned back to the other room. His eyes fell on Leif.
“Incredible,” the elder murmured, undisguised awe in her voice. “She did it. I had not thought…”
The wound on Leif’s side was no longer a deep, jagged gash – it was shallow, clean, and already beginning to scab. His breathing had steadied, and his skin had a little more colour to it.
Garren stood nearby, staring down at Leif, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and left the cabin without another word.
Asara was still there. When Felix glanced at her, she approached and smiled. “I understand now,” she said, with a trace of amusement in her voice. “How could anyone else stand a chance?”
Felix blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth to respond, but she gave a small, tired shake of her head. “Thank you for bringing Leif back here. And for encouraging her when she hesitated.” She nodded once and joined the elder, leaving Felix staring after her in silence.
He patched himself up, then insisted on keeping watch at Isolde’s side. He refused to leave even when Luella argued it was her room, and told her to go sleep elsewhere instead. Isolde slept for a full night and most of the day, so still that he constantly kept checking her pulse and breathing. Felix did a lot of thinking in his chair at her bedside, about stupid decisions and bad calls and how he should maybe stop trying to get everyone killed.
***
Leif was back on his feet the next morning, to the utter shock of anyone who had witnessed him in his injured state. When he learned what Isolde had done for him – and what it had cost her – he had to be forcibly restrained from going to pledge her his everlasting loyalty that very instant.
When Isolde finally awoke, it was midafternoon, and Felix had succumbed to dozing off in the chair.
“Felix…” Isolde murmured, waking him up.
“I’m here,” he said quietly. She looked better. Some colour was back in her face, her eyes less sunken. Her markings were pale blue again. Relief washed over him. “Everything is fine; you used a bit too much –”
“You’re so beautiful,” she said with a sigh.
“... magic. What?” He stared at her, sure he’d misheard.
Her hand reached out toward him, trembling a little, like she was trying to catch hold of something. “Kiss me,” she murmured dreamily. “Why do you never kiss me, Felix?”
If he’d had to make a list of a hundred, even a thousand things she might have said once she woke up, this would not have been on it. His mouth opened and closed stupidly. “Uh… Isa. Maybe you should go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep; I want you to kiss me.” She reached out for him again, feebly, like a sleepy kitten.
