Page 11 of Sky of Thorns

“Now you can bring back Edmund, and dinner.” I grin at them before turning Percy around and heading down the trail. We were lucky tonight, but Edmund isn’t out of the woods yet. My fist clenches the reins tighter and I click my heels, urging Percy onward. If we didn’t have to travel half the continent to get one rebel unicorn to Shadowvale, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Edmund wouldn’t be injured and I wouldn’t have had some cryptic conversation with some forest spirit.

Alpheaia.

The tipping point.

What does it all mean?

Sybil

Thesnapofbranchesbreaking draws both our attention. My heart thunders in my chest as I scan the dark forest before us. I yearn to shift into my unicorn form, where at least I’d have a chance at defending myself or escaping. Despite my wishes, the enchanted band around my wrist continues to neutralize my power. The wind shifts, and with it comes the unmistakable scent of blood, thick and metallic.

“Someone’s approaching,” Nero says as he moves with a combination of speed and grace that resembles a sleek beast in motion.

His sword glistens in the light as he lifts it up to block the intruder from entering the clearing. A moment of recognition crosses his face before he sheaths his sword, the sound of metal on leather echoing in the air before offering his assistance.

“Thank goodness you’re alive brother. I was dreading having to explain to the King and Queen how I lost ya stupid arse,” Nero adds, patting Aramis’s shoulder. I can see the relief wash away the worry from his features.

As they move closer to where I crouch in the shadows, I notice dark stains of blood coating Aramis’s arms and chest. Has he been injured? The instinct to heal wars with my desire to flee while they are distracted. As silently as I can muster, I slowly step backwards. A resounding crack of dried wood echoes as my weight snaps a twig in two. Aramis’s eyes meet mine where I stand, holding my breath in the shadows.

“Trying to escape, shifter?” He brushes off Nero’s attempts to assess him, stalking towards me. My mouth twists into a sarcastic smile–of course he assumes I’m trying to escape, even when I know I’ve just newly accepted my fate. I wish he would give it a rest. My mouth is dry and the pulse of my heart beats faster in my chest as my eyes roam from his face to the fresh stain on his sleeves. If that’s his blood—

“It’s not mine,” he replies to my silent inquiry. Warmth creeps across my face, and I surprise myself when I silently thank the Gods that it’s nothing serious.

“I was just assessing for injuries.” I state pertly, meeting his cold stare. Strange awareness settles between us, full of complicated emotions.

“Why would you even bother, shifter? So you can gloat over the fact that one of us was injured?” Aramis sneers and angrily wipes the sweat off his forehead. The expectation that I care only because he suspects I’d use my knowledge over him for gain hurts.

“I wouldn’t do that,your Majesty.“ I retort, attempting to rein in my spite. “I’m a healer and I don’t take pleasure in other’s pain.” It is evident that he lacks knowledge about healers and their mission, as well as the honor and duty I feel compelled to fulfill. Since I was young, my parents instilled in me the belief that healing is an art and a gift from the goddess. Only a select few are born with the ability to master the knowledge of healing and the power to harness it. Although I have not yet taken my healer’s oath at Nova Esther, it holds no less significance in my soul.

“What happened? Where are the others?” Nero interrupts. He grabs Percy’s reins and leads him over to the water. His coat is soaked and he is frothing at the mouth. How hard did Aramis push him to get to us?

“I–” Aramis sighs deeply, running a hand through his wind disheveled hair. “I’m still not sure. It was an ambush, we barely made it…”

“Who?” Nero’s face falls as he stares at Aramis, reading in his expression the words he was struggling to pronounce.

“It’s Edmund. They stabbed him.”

***

The sound of shouting fills the air as two guards carrying a makeshift gurney enter the clearing and set it down near the fire. I count as the rest of the guards return, leading the horses who drag a large stag behind them.

“Edmund,” Aramis gently coaxes the guard’s green eyes open, his brow furrowed. “Edmund, can you hear me?” He snaps his fingers before the guard’s face.

“Let me look at him,” I say meekly, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt.

I can do this.

“Why would I letmy prisonerlay hands on one of my wounded men?“ Aramis glares at me from where he crouches.

Glaring back, I edge around him for a better view, my eyes darting to the injured guard now on the ground. Despite my situation, I’m determined to do what I was born to do and complete it to the highest level of my capabilities.

“He needs care. Please—please give me the freedom to help him.” I raise my bound wrists as I look towards my captor. Friend or foe, I will not stand by as this man loses his battle with death. My parents have taught me better than that. “He’s in terrible pain, and I have to help.”

“Let you go? Why? So I can free you only for your poor attempts at escape? Why would I do that?” Aramis doesn’t break my gaze, and the steady reprimand unworthy of my actions makes me want to falter. Had it not been for the guard on the ground, had it not been for this desire to help break me beyond my fear, I stand straighter.

“You’re wasting time while your guard writhes in agony, losing blood with the potential to die, when you have a source that’s willing and able to do what they can to save him,” I scoff, anger leading my words aloud. “I don’t see any other able-bodied healers in your company.”

“What makes you think I care about a single guard?” Aramis advances towards me, attempting to intimidate me, and my body quivers, on the verge of standing my ground or fleeing. My skin warms with anger–anger at Aramis’ doubt and his disbelief that I’m willing to help him. I’m ready to prove the asshole wrong.

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