“Yes, I came.” Myron’s gentle features shifted into a smile, and I almost crumbled with relief.
“Thank you,” I said, griping his shoulders a little tighter.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a dip of his chin. “Now, let’s see what I can do for him, shall we?”
I let him pass, almost bumping into Caius. I wouldn’t have said the room was small by any means, but there were suddenly eight of us, including Tarrin.
It took me a heartbeat to realize I’d counted Fiora as her violet eyes met mine with empathy as deep as their coloring.
“Fiora,” I breathed, stepping up to her. Instantly she wrapped me in her warmth and held me tight as if giving me permission to let go for just a moment while she held me together. My body was defenseless against the safety she offered as I was wracked in silent sobs. She held me for long moments before I calmed enough for her to pull away slightly, leading us to the opposite side of Myron with Tarrin was between us.
My hand slipped into Fiora’s, and I squeezed tight as Myron looked at me like he was waiting for permission to begin. My eyes darted to Tarrin’s ravaged body, then up to Myron’s spring-green eyes. I held them for a moment before steeling my nerves, then nodded once.
Magic filled the room to the delight of my powers, but I couldn’t feel it’s elation as crippling anxiety stole my breath; because what if Myron couldn’t help?
His hands hovered inches above Tarrin’s body as he moved from his head downward with a painstaking calmness, only to pause over certain areas. When he’d reached the abdominal wound we’d stitched closed, the High Lord of Spring’s nose scrunched as if smelling something rancid.
After what felt like an eternity, he stepped back, straightened his back, and threaded his hands together, focus now on me. “Artton told me you’re responsible for the care Tarrin received. Is this true?”
I nodded, unable to form words with my stomach still in my throat.
“You did an excellent job. Truly. You’ve made my job a lot easier.”
Hope slammed into me. “You mean…”
“I will try. It will be slow, very slow. But I will try.”
My knees buckled, and Fiora steadied me. “Here, take a seat, hun.”
Hope. There was hope. Myron made no guarantees, but he hadn’t said no.
I watched as the spring fae placed his hands over Tarrin oncemore. He didn’t go from head to toe this time but rather went directly to the place he’d scowled at earlier. His fingers moved in a dance, as if he was physically inside of Tarrin’s body mending what needed to be healed. Soft threads of light continued to multiply by the thousands until they settled under Tarrin’s flesh, making his abdomen glow.
Only seconds passed when I sensed Myron’s powers pull away, leaving only the smallest seed of power behind. Then he stepped from the table.
“That’s it?” I asked.
The grave look he leveled me with had me afraid of his next words.
“Yes. I’ll have to keep doing micro sessions like this. The human body can’t tolerate more than that. There’s a reason the healing is so slow for their kind—the body and soul need time to reorient themselves from trauma, you see. If I were to go too fast, he would die. If I go too slow, he will die. So, it will be a delicate balance—which is why I can’t make any guarantees.”
I nodded, clinging onto hope so hard that all doubts in Myron’s cautioning tone fell on deaf ears.
Caius stepped a little closer and took Tarrin in before looking to his spring counterpart with what looked like curiosity. “How do you know when to stop? How much power to use?”
“Gut feel. You know when you’re a sapling learning to valen and you almost have to guess how much power to pull to go exactly where you want—sometimes going too far, or too short?”
Caius nodded, a smile born of memory lighting up his features. “Stars, that takes me back. But yes, I remember.”
“Balance,” Myron said simply.
I looked between the two ageless fae. High Lord to High Lord, they were fully at ease with one another and their relaxed demeanors melted a tiny fragment of tension I’d been holding, which was enough for me to finally take a full breath since finding Tarrin enveloped indecay.
“Could I have used my powers to heal him?” Caius asked, drawing my focus back to the conversation.
“Unfortunately, no,” Myron said, shaking his head. “I have to pull from a very specific place of my power that’s deeply rooted to the Mother. The part of her that’s also tethered to the life-giving energy she shares with humans. The knowledge is passed down in my court, but it is a cultivated, practiced, and very delicate skill. You would have most likely killed him if you tired.”
Relief seemed to wash through Caius as if a heavy weight had been lifted. He stole a glance in my direction, somehow conveying the guilt he’d felt in saying no to me, at having to weather my pleas while being powerless to help—stars that must have been a foreign feeling for a High Lord.
