I stared at her—intrigue and distrust flowing in equal measure.
This was the second time I carried her unconscious, her fragility oddly moving. “I’ve got you, Ruin,” I spoke into her hair. She remained unresponsive.
We bolted through the city, using back alleys and lesser-known roads to avoid a potential scene. My imposing gelding commanded attention from the few passersby we encountered. Pedestrians jumped out of our way.
Aphellion, the rebel camp, was less a collection of tents and more a city in itself. It was organized into sections for learning,living, healing, and training. Even Queen Avery herself was not fully aware of our location. We were nestled outside of the city proper. Our stronghold thickly veiled by wards maintained by Finn, which allowed us to stretch from the feet of the Topaz Castle to the base of the mountains in the west. Most didn’t know it even existed.
To the average Yaritian, all that could be seen was more forest, overgrown with thorns and poisonous plants. A place to avoid. I rode straight for it, bursting through the ward to the other side.
A soldier on duty startled, then relaxed upon identification of their general. “Send Sieren.” Without waiting for a response, I headed to the healing quarters, trusting the soldier would make haste to find the Prime Healer.
My heart raced as I considered the consequences of this woman dying. We valued all life, but beyond that, she might know something about the drekis, especially since she successfully fought them off. I briefly assessed her. Her skin had lost color rapidly as blood managed to leak out in thick globs, primarily from one of her ears. Small trickles of blood also trailed from her nose and mouth. I could find no other wounds.
“General!” Sieren hollered at me, racing in my direction. I halted my horse and several other healers came over to help us dismount. I carried Rue to a private space where her wounds could be dealt with.
I relayed what I knew to Sieren. With the other healers occupied, I whispered, “Xuri sensed death magic on her. These may not be straightforward wounds.” Sieren nodded tersely and resumed her care, facilitating and directing those under her.
I stood back granting ample space to hopefully perform a miracle. Towels rapidly soaked up Rue’s unceasing streams of blood. I peered closer, studying her features. A deep ripple offamiliarity lapped at the corners of my memory. The feeling unnerved me.
Sieren closed her eyes, going inward, her hands drifting slowly down Rue’s body, hovering inches above her silent form. Searching for the source of the blood loss, her investigation came up empty. “A deep pulse strains around her neck area, but I find nothing physically visible. The ongoing blood loss will drain her if we don’t figure this out quickly.” She turned, searching, then grabbed a male healer, her eyes alight with purpose. “Logan, trace her for death magic.”
He nodded, approaching Rue’s side. The air shimmered beneath his fingers, the whir of his affinity wrapped around her chest and swept up her neck. The air coalesced into waves of moonlight right below her ear, the one that would not cease oozing blood. “A Surveille parasite, just here.” He condensed his shimmering magic over the offensive area. “We have to get it out. It might harm her, but she’ll die if we do nothing.”
“I’ll get an elixist. When I get back, I will cast the removal spell.” Sieren scrambled out of the room, her departure leaving a wake of quiet tension.
I felt antsy in the weighted silence. Stepping forward, I addressed Logan, “What can I do to help?”
“Can you redirect the blood flow from this area? It will minimize the tissue destruction and create more space for us to remove the Surveille,” the healer responded.
While I primarily wielded my metal magic in combat, I could also use it to maneuver the iron found in blood, to manipulate it for brief periods. It required gentle precision, or I risked bursting veins. Luckily, years of practice had honed my craft. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Sieren returned, an elixist in tow. We positioned ourselves, each understanding our roles. She extended her arms. “Let’s get this parasite.”
Everyone stilled. The air itself held its breath. Sieren began chanting, and the temperature dropped as her magic absorbed into Rue’s skin. I called the iron in her blood away from the parasite, focusing on both speed and keeping the pressure as low as possible so as not to strain her circulatory system.
The sensation of her blood with my magic was both excruciating and enchanting. The death magic burned against me. But whatever flowed in her veins gripped me—a living current that latched on to my power. The flavor of cherries washed across my tongue, catching me off guard. I doubled down on my task, refusing to lose focus.
The Surveille twitched and jerked, writhing against the thin barrier of Rue’s skin. It strained against its confines, clearly pissed at being yanked out of its host, no matter how subtly. Its legs thrashed like a deranged spider.
Sieren’s voice grew firmer, louder. The parasite broke through the skin in a sharp burst. The waiting elixist blew a powder over it. The Surveille violently resisted, jerking erratically, then stilled. Tongs grabbed it, transferring it to a waiting jar, the rim sealed with glowing magic. The elixist gripped the jar with wonder, then quietly exited the room.
I released my hold on her blood, confusion settling in. I rubbed my temples, unsure if keeping her in Aphellion was wise. The healers moved in to mend her damaged neck. They placed their hands around her, knitting her tissues back together. Blood finally stopped dripping from her mouth and ears. Pinkened towels littered the floor in a chilling reminder of how close death hovered. Rue’s breathing receded into something soft and shallow, the line between her brows relaxing.
As I studied the soft lines of her face, I hoped we weren’t too late.
Chapter Eighteen
THE SPY
Low and incoherent mutterings droned beside me. A groan escaped as I attempted to shift. Pain pillaged my neck from jaw to clavicle. Unrecognizable surroundings greeted me as I pried my eyes open. My sluggish mind struggled to make sense of the bed confining me, the soft, blue blankets shoved aside. The light slanting through the open window attested to a late hour. My eyes flitted toward the sound of hushed voices.
The events leading to my lapse in consciousness slammed into me with fresh horror. I chose to save Korin, and Wes and Belham witnessed it. A guttural sound escaped me, unbidden. My choices pioneered this fresh hell. Unconsciousness sounded intensely appealing.
A dark-haired woman not much older than me startled me as she walked closer, her kind eyes assessing. She bowed in greeting. “I am the healer here, my name is Sieren. You’ve been out for three days.”
I froze. Three days?
“Where am I? Do you know what happened to me?” My dry mouth croaked. I must have lost a lot of magic. Or blood. Probably both.
