Page 110 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Where was Hadrian?
As the convulsions subsided, Alaire drew back her hands—and froze. Something warm and sticky coated her fingers. Blood.Somuch blood.
Beneath the torn fabric, a deep gash split the vulnerable skin between Kaia’s ribs. Thin scrapes, like dozens of tiny blade slices, marred her neck and shoulders. These weren’t fromthe storm. This was deliberate. Someone—or something—had attacked her.
Alaire fumbled for the pin Professor Ross had given her for emergencies. She pricked her finger without hesitation, watching the bright bead of blood saturate the metal.
“Please. Hurry,” she whispered.
The pin stayed cold. The drop of blood dried. Kaia’s skin grew ashen. No shimmer of magic, no winged creatures riding to the rescue. No one came.
Kaia doesn’t have this kind of time.
Anger sizzled in Alaire’s chest, pushing back against the helplessness gnawing her bones. Another trickle of blood slid down Kaia’s leathers.
This was all wrong. Kaia—kind, wild, alive—lay so still.
Her breathing rattled like broken glass, wet and uneven. Blood welled beneath Alaire’s pressed hand while Kaia sagged limp.
“Please, please,” Alaire whispered. The gods had already abandoned her, but Kaia deserved a chance to live.
Focus. Breathe.
Now wasnotthe time for her lungs to betray her. If she couldn’t slow the bleeding, Kaia wouldn’t make it.
Alaire ripped off her leathers, tearing her tunic into the thickest strip she could manage.
“This will hurt,” she murmured.
With trembling hands, she held the wound closed, mouthedsorry, then pressed the fabric tight. Blood seeped through almost instantly, slick against her fingers.
Why isn’t this working?
Tears of frustration blurred her vision.
Solflara shifted nearby, flames flaring as she watched Kaia fade.
Alaire whipped around, chest heaving. “Solflara,do something!”
“I wish I could,but I cannot,Alaire.”
The words struck like a slap.
“You’re a phoenix! You have magic! Help her!”
“My magic doesn’t work that way,” Solfara replied solemnly.
“What’s the point of it then?” Alaire spat. The color was leaching from Kaia’s face.
Despite all her training and new titles, she was hopeless. She needed to do more—anything.
Think. Think. Think.
“Solflara,” Alaire rasped, “your fire. Direct your flames at the wound. Cauterize it.”
“It might do more harm than good.” Solflara hesitated, searching her haunted face.
Alaire swallowed down the nausea. What other choice did Kaia have? None.
