Elle runs inside and Luca leads us into the formal living room. Asmo lays Marik down on the massive cream couch. I throw a small spindle of magic toward the limestone fireplace, watching the large hearth catch and warm the living room.
“Luca, it was a cambion,” Asmo says from beside me.
Luca stiffens. “You’re certain?” he asks.
Asmo nods once. “Three of them.”
Luca turns to me. “Tell me what happened from the beginning.”
I quickly recount what happened, trying not to leave anything out. As I do, Asmo’s gaze doesn’t leave my arm, fixed on the burn in the shape of the cambion’s hand.
Elle walks in, followed by a young female. Her hair is disheveled, and she rubs sleep from her eyes. Elle gestures toward Marik on the couch, but Asmo blocks her path.
“Mae has a burn on her arm. Can you look at that first?”
“No, I’m okay. Look at Marik first, please,” I protest.
Asmo shoots me a look, but I return it. He doesn’t push for her to look at my arm again.
He steps out of the way, opting to come stand next to me. The healer walks to the couch and sits beside Marik. She places her hands on the center of his chest. The room is silent while she assesses him. She moves her hands to his head and silently hovers them over his temples.
“He’ll be fine. He was just knocked out. It’s better to wait until he wakes naturally, which should be soon,” the healer says softly.
“What of the cut on his forehead?” Asmo asks.
I want to scoff at his choice of words. Blood wasstreamingdown Marik’s face.
“I would imagine he was knocked out, then taken to wherever he was kept. I’m assuming his head probably bumped against something in the process. Although it looks bad, it’s superficial. I can heal it, though, if you’d like.”
He nods and says, “Thank you.”
She doesn’t respond, instead turning to Marik and placing her hand just above the injury. She’s silent as she concentrates on healing him. When she removes her hand, the wound is gone.
“Thank you so much,” I say. “What’s your name?”
She smiles when she looks at me. “My name is Brynn, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Brynn.”
She nods, still smiling. “Would you like for me to take a look at your arm?”
I glance at my arm, flinching at what I see. The skin is swollen, shiny, and blistered. The adrenaline coursing through my body has dulled the pain, but now that I’m actively thinking about the burn, I can feel it.
“Yes, please.”
Asmo guides me to the nearest couch, his hand on the small of my back the entire time. I sit down on the plush sofa, and he joins me, his leg brushing against mine.
Brynn sits on my other side. I hold my arm out for her to inspect. She holds her hand above it, and I flinch, expecting her to touch it.
“Sorry,” she says. “I should have warned you. I’m not going to touch it yet. Just getting a sense for how deep the burn goes.” She falls silent, focusing again. “It’s a second-degree burn, but I don’t think I can heal it since it was done with dark magic. The only thing I can do for you is dress it so that we prevent infection. It’s going to hurt,” she says apologetically. “But the good news is that your Fae blood should heal it relatively quickly. In humans, a second-degree burn can take weeks to heal. This should be healed in a matter of days.”
She looks at Asmo and says, “Prince, would you mind going to get a bowl of cool water? Not too cold, but not warm or hot. I have the other materials with me, but the burn needs to soak in cool water before I can dress it.”
He stands immediately and rushes out of the room.
“He’s very handsome,” Brynn says shyly.
I chuckle. “He is.”
