Page 154 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
I can see the pain that haunt his features, haunt his heart.
“Leave,” I say. A fractured sound escapes my throat following that request.
“Rhia—”
“Leave before the Elders order your execution. Leave before they make me watch it.” I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. The Aeonians would probably command me to deliver the judgement with my sword.
Guilt flashes in his eyes as he stares at me brokenly. He doesn’t fight it when Shade takes his hand to administer a sleeping potion. “Silverra, allow me.”
My knees crumble to the ground as soon as my uncle drifts to sleep.
“That should do it,” Shade mutters once Rainer closes his eyes completely. The large black wolf whines beside me, sniffing on my hair. I inhale deeply at the ticklish sensation of his breath and wet nose.The movement brings pain to my ribs.
“Good job, boy.” I ruffle his head.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Shade shakes his head. “He’s an elf.”
“I know,” I say briefly.An elf and a friend.
Shade kneels beside me to check on my wounds. “You’re injured—”
“I’ll be all right.” I exhale slowly, controlling my breathing.
“Take my uncle and the intoxicated Grimsbanes away from the encampment until they recover,” I plead to the assassin. “If anyone sees their eyes… The Aeonians will use this against my house. Völundr will lose our seat in the council.”
Shade is still hesitant to leave me. So is the wolf.
“Please, lives are at stake,” I beg him again.
He nods in understanding.
The wolf nuzzles his head to me before leaving with the assassin.
I wait until they are out of sight before my body crumples from the excruciating pain. I cough up bits of blood. The pain is crippling and mind numbing. I can barely move a muscle. But I fight back the agony and crawl myself to the injured dwarf.
My heart drops in my chest, looking at his battered face. How could Rainer do this?
I find the dwarf watching me carefully. The hatred on his face is plain, cold, and focussed.
“You lot deserved to rot in the vilest pit.” He spits, gurgling the blood pooling in his mouth.
I’m completely spent and devoid of blessings. I don’t dare enter the realms of the gods in my vulnerable state. The only thing I can do is gather the Anastarros blessings Lady Deirdre had given me earlier. I hover my hand over his chest and pass it all into the dwarf.
“What are you doing?” he asks with revulsion.
“Healing you,” I tell him. I’m clinging to the last shred of blessings I have with desperation.
The intensity in his face does not falter. “This changes nothing. Darvan Mountain will never forgive you for what you did to us.”
I don’t dare make a comment on his remark. “Let me set your jaw.”
He barely winces with my maneuver, but I know it has to be painful. My uncle did this to him. The guilt has my mind going numb for a moment. I swallow dryly and focus my consciousness into channelling the god’s will. Burning sensations shoot from my palms to my chest with every delivered blessing. The God of Healing’s will refuses to leave me when I begin taking from myself but I force them out. I keep going despite my joints and muscles feel as though they had been torn loose. I need to fix him. I need to make it better. I need to—
I feel an overly broad, calloused hand over mine.
“It’s just cuts and bruises,” the dwarf grunts. “You can stop now. Save some energy for yourself, young elfling.”
I’m surprised and a little scared how this dwarf takes one look at me and knows that I haven’t Ascended.
