As gently as she could, Luna placed a trembling hand on Gawen’s back and closed her eyes.
She barely registered Damien’s footsteps behind her. Her focus turned inward, reaching for the light burning at her core. That white-hot flame—wild, radiant, relentless—flared in answer to her call. It surged up through her like a sunbeam forced through glass . . . too hot, too fast. She tried to hold it back, but it was volatile, pouring through her skin in waves, threatening to scorch everything it touched.
Then—a cool hand pressed against her shoulder.
Not physical, not quite, but real enough that her body stilled.
Damien’s magic slipped around hers—slow, deliberate, patient. Shadows, thick as velvet, curled around her power. Her magic bucked against it, stubborn and burning too bright, but his didn’t fight back. His shadows simply . . . guided. Like taking her hand. Like showing her how to breathe.
And just like that, her magic softened.
Where she had been starlight, he was the night sky. Infinite and unshakable. His shadows wove into her light until she couldn’t tell where his power ended and hers began. He bore the weight, shaped the current. She simply held on and let herself be led.
Together, their magic poured into Gawen.
She could feel it; she could feel Damien sending it deep into Gawen’s chest, where lungs faltered and his heart beat too weakly. Their magic threaded through his body, stitching it whole.
It drained her, pulling every spec of warmth from her and leaving her lungs tight, her body folding in on itself. Yet, even with such discomfort, she didn’t stop.
She could almost see Gawen healthy, happy, so she pushed everything she had, everything she was, into him.
Their magic settled inside his little body like stars finding their place in the sky.
Weak and shaking, her hand slid off of Gawen and fell to her side. Damien wrapped his arm around her, steadying her.
“That was a really stupid idea, you know,” he whispered in her ear.
Through her daze and exhaustion, she barely heard him. “Or really brave . . .”
A low chuckle was his only response before he helped her to her feet. She wanted to shove him away, to prove to him she was strong, but she was too exhausted to reject his support. She leaned against him, and he helped her back to her blanket, tucked her in and told her to go to sleep.
Weak to the bone, with chill creeping in, her body relished in the warmth the blanket provided. With no energy left to fight him, she complied and shut her eyes. Before she could drift off to the land of unconsciousness, she heard Damien shuffle as he moved around their little makeshift camp. Peeking one eye open, he grabbed the necklace they had stolen from Hazelwood, the one made of unicorn hair and placed it over Gawen’s neck.
“We did it then?” she asked, voice barely audible.
Damien nodded his head. “He’s healed.”
Morning arrived, and with it, more cold. Luna rubbed her hands over her arms, coaxing her blood to flow back down her extremities. Frosty dew covered the grass, the sun not quite over the horizon yet. She had barely opened her eyes when Damien asked, “You feeling okay?”
She nodded, despite being bone-tired, and pushed herself to her feet. Stumbling to the riverbank, legs shaking, Luna cupped her hands and drank deeply. The cold water burned her throat, waking her in a way the dawn and sunlight couldn’t. Magic had taken its toll on her body, and she was far from recovered.
Damien crouched beside her, swaying a little on his feet as he offered her what was left of the bread. “Hungry?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, taking a bite; the bread was stale, like usual, but at least it was filling.
His gaze drifted to the river, searching the stones by the water’s edge. His fingers wrapped around a flat, smooth one, turning it over thoughtfully in his palm, as though it held some secret he couldn’t quite grasp. Silently, he stood and flicked his wrist, sending the stone skimming across the surface. It danced—once, twice, three times—before the water swallowed it whole.
As the ripples faded, she asked. “Are you upset with me?”
He paused, eyes glassed over, still fixed on the river. With a small, resigned shrug, he replied, “You have a big heart. How could I ever be mad at that?”
She smiled warmly, relieved by his words. “What about you?” she asked, glancing up at him. “Are you all right?”
He nodded stiffly, looking away as if that would help hide how drained he was. “Shadows weren’t made for healing . . . but I can manage because royal blood comes with brutal training.” He picked up another stone and whipped it across the water. “My training’s more about keeping people alive on a battlefield than fixing illnesses. There are actual healers for that.” The stone bounced once before sinking beneath the surface. “I’m tired, sure—but nothing a little darkness and rest won’t fix.”
Luna blinked. “Darkness helps you recover?”
“That and food.” He offered a faint smile. “I just need to take it easy for a bit, at least until the sun sets.”
