My chest tightened.
My world had been gray for so long—soot-choked skies, snowstorms, alleys paved in filth and ash. I’d forgotten color could be this alive. This overwhelming. Here, it spilled from every crevice, demanding to be seen.
Beautiful. I wanted to drink it in, to let it soothe the raw ache of everything I’d experienced over the last few days.
The door opened, and I whirled around.
A dark-skinned fae female strolled inside, her round face framed by braids woven with feathers. She was stunning. Her dress was some sort of tanned hide, stitched with golden threads. Tattooed runes ran down her arms.
Was she my captor?
She smiled. “Finally awake. Good.”
I tensed as she closed the door.
“I had to cut those filthy rags off to treat your injuries.” She walked past me to a low table against the wall. “My name is Elwen. I’m the Master Healer.”
I licked my dry lips, watching her.
She rushed around the bed, her brows knitting. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. I’m—” I winced at the sudden pain in my throat.
The fae grabbed a steel pitcher and poured bright orange liquid into a glass. She reached into a small bowl filled with powder and sprinkled some into the cup and offered it to me.
“Drink. It’s a tonic.”
My tongue felt like sandpaper, but I wasn’t about to gulp down a mystery potion from a fae.
She sighed. “I understand your caution, but you need this medicine.”
“Water,” I croaked.
“No. You need citrus with lemonbloom, or you may never recover the full use of your voice. I’ve been spoon-feeding it to you for two days.”
Two days?
I stiffened and pressed a hand to my neck.
“Yes, it was a nasty injury,” she continued, her sharp gaze not leaving mine. “The cartilage fractured. You were coughing up blood when he brought you in.”
Kairos. My stomach tightened.
“I haven’t poisoned this, you know. I took an oath to heal.”
I frowned. In Skalgard, healers turned you away if you didn’t have coin. Or they made you pay in other ways.
She pushed the drink into my hands. “Look, I know it tastes awful, but you won’t heal without it.”
I stared at the glass before I sniffed the concoction. Bitter citrus. A hint of something floral. Didn’t smell like death, but it might still kill me later.
Please don’t let this be the end of me.
I tossed the drink back. Sour, like overripe fruit. But almost immediately, a cooling sensation spread throughmy throat, dulling the fire. My chest stayed tight. Comfort from fae hands felt like poison waiting to kick in.
I swallowed again. Much better.
The healer smirked. “See?”
