Six days.
That's all they've given her. That's all the healers believe Hrolf's blood has bought.
The cruelty of it. How close we came to saving her.
Rhianelle doesn't stir. Her lips part once when I shift her pillow, adjusting it to support her head better. She makes no sound, no complaint.
I touch her cheek. The heat there is fading. Hour by hour, the warmth leaches away. Her skin feels like porcelain, smooth and far too fragile.
The Hlaryan healers won't meet my eyes anymore. That's how I know we're losing her. They move around Rhianelle's bed with the carefulness reserved for the dying.
Yesterday, a group of healers arrived from Kashran at Rainer's behest. The best healers in all the elven kingdoms,masters of their craft with centuries of experience. They examined her for hours, consulted their texts and tried every remedy in their arsenal.
None of it worked.
Rhianelle lies still in the infirmary bed, her chest barely rising with each labored breath. The silver of her hair has lost its luster.
Rainer Wiolant sits by her bedside when I'm not there. He holds her hand and speaks to her in low tones, telling her stories of her childhood with her sister.
"Name your price," Rainer says to the latest healer, his voice cracking with desperation. "Anything. I'll give you diamonds from Nyrr, the Wiolant estates in the south, our entire fleet of ships, every coin in our vaults. Take it all. Just bring her back."
The healer shakes his head, the same gesture as all the others before him. "My lord, there's nothing more we can do. The blood transfusion came too late. Her body is shutting down. Her organs are failing one by one. We can make her comfortable, but we cannot stop what's happening."
"There must be something," Rainer insists. "Some spell, some herb, some ancient remedy—"
"If there were, we would use it." The healer's voice is kind but firm. "I'm sorry, Lord Wiolant. Your niece has perhaps five days remaining. Six if fortune favors her."
Garrett made the right decision to spare her uncle. At least he's doing something useful. He's trying with everything he has.
I'm useless.
All my power, all my monsters, none of it can save her.
Through the window, I catch sight of her knights in the courtyard below.
Eyepatch hasn't slept or eaten, as far as I've seen. Red sits on a bench nearby, head in his hands. Darstan hasn't spoken in two days. He merely stands guard at the entrance to the healinghouse like a statue, as if his vigilance alone could keep death at bay.
I can't stay in this room any longer, watching her slip away breath by breath. The walls are closing in. I need air but I hate to leave her side even for a second.
Rainer is here. The healers are here. She's not alone. Coinneach whispers.I'll stand watch.
The shadow familiar rarely concerns himself with me. My survival has never ranked high on his list of priorities. Rhianelle, however, is another matter entirely. For her, he would tear through realms. The fact that he is comforting me now unsettles me like hell.
I brush my thumb once across her cheek before stepping back and forcing myself toward the door. If I hesitate, I will not leave at all. I need to properly thank Hrolf for what he did. I was too consumed by grief before to express my gratitude adequately.
My feet carry me through the healing house corridors. I nearly collide with Blaire in the hallway. She's moving fast, shouldering past me with a traveling pack slung over her back. Her eyes are hollow but fierce with determination.
"Going somewhere?" Siofra calls after her from down the hall.
Blaire doesn't slow. "Yes."
"Where?"
"To find help." Her voice has gone flat, hard with purpose. "Since everyone here seems content to watch her die."
"Blaire, you can't just—"
"Don't tell me to accept it." She whirls on Siofra and there's something wild in her eyes. "I refuse to accept it. There's always another way. I just have to find it."
