Page 42 of Wings of Ash & Flame
It made her chest ache for an entirely different reason.
The halls blurred as he carried her through winding corridors, her awareness flickering in and out. Her senses stayed attuned to him: the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic anchor amid the panic.
“Dawson,” she rasped.
His arms tightened around her, quieting her without words. For once, she didn’t have the strength to argue.
Alaire closed her eyes. Whatever walls existed between them felt paper-thin against this unfamiliar tenderness. She wanted to hate him for it. It was so much easier. Safer.
It was her last thought before her body surrendered to the haze.
Eleven
Lavender and rosemary lingered faintly in the air. Alaire blinked away the fog in her mind as it finally cleared.
Relief flooded her when she noticed her airways had stopped spasming; her breathing was even. Gradually, the clinical whitewashed environment of the infirmary came into focus.
Across the room, her leathers hung on a hook, stiff with dried blood and grime. Her flimsy medical gown did nothing to ward off the chill, so she tugged the thin blanket up to her chest.
Tilting her head down and gritting her teeth, she tried to look at her chest. Her ribs protested sharply, and she bit back a curse.
A soulwarden, dressed in earth tones, walked into her cubicle. “How are you feeling?”
Alaire lightly ran her fingers over the dips in her ribs. “Terrible.” Her voice sounded raw to her own ears. She screwed her eyes shut as her bruised body screamed in protest.
“We relieved the pressure on your lungs while you were unconscious, but still need to attend to some of your other injuries.” He held his palms open. “If I may.”
She dug her hands into the sheets. The thought of a male’s hands on her unconscious body—even a soulwarden’s—made her skin crawl.
Alaire nodded brusquely. What other choice did she have?
The soulwarden stepped closer, murmuring incantations she couldn’t decipher while tracing intricate circles over her injuries. Her muscles instantly sagged in relief.
“Prince Knox insisted on staying.”
She jerked her head back.Dawson had stayed?
The soulwarden’s hands were cold as they briefly touched her throat.
“You’ll be sore for a few days, but everything will heal perfectly.” He pulled out a chamber from the small cabinet behind him. Attached to it was a mask with thin tubing. “Please breathe in when I push this button.”
“What is it?” She eyed it skeptically.
“It’s called epine. A gas will be released into the chamber that you’ll inhale through the mask. It will help relieve the remaining tension in your lungs.”
She nodded. At the push of the button, she inhaled deeply, breathing in from her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Tiny particles tickled her nostrils.
Instantly, her body felt lighter.
“Thank you,” she said when he removed the chamber.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, clucking his tongue. “You’ll be discharged shortly. In the meantime, rest.”
Finally alone, she rested her head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. It still confounded her that elemental fae were valued enough to warrant an entire wing of soulwardens stationed full-time at Aeris Academy, while not even one could be spared for the human districts.
So many lives could be saved if they’d only share their resources.
Alaire wrinkled her nose; her leathers needed a good washing. She’d have no choice but to put them back on to make it to her next class on time.
