I’m shaking, bloodied, too wrecked to even stand without help. But gods above, I’m alive.
“You crazy bastard,” Torin mutters, hauling me up onto unsteady feet. His eyes are wide, but there’s relief there too. “You actually made it.”
I cough out a laugh. “Did I win?”
“You survived,” he says flatly. “That’s enough. Come on. Let’s get you to a healer. You look awful.”
Torin keeps his arm braced under mine as he half-drags, half-guides me toward the healers’ wing. Calling it “walking” would be generous. I’m limping, staggering, and barely upright. Barely conscious. It takes a long time, every step is agony, but he never complains, never rushes, just keeps his usual calm patience, like he has all the time in the world.
By the time we finally make it, sweat drips down my back, and the world begins to tilt if I blink too long. A healer meets us, leading me to a cot and giving me a bitter drink she says will help with the pain but may make me “feel a little funny.” Torin lowers me onto the edge and straightens with a grunt.
“We start training in the morning,” he says, like I’m not bleeding out on the floor. “So rest up when they’re done patching you.”
I stare at him in disbelief, but he’s already turning on his heel and leaving.
I sit stiffly on the edge of the bed, jaw tight, tugging what’s left of my torn shirt over my head with a hiss. The fabricsticks to my wounds before it finally gives. The gash on my ribs is deep, ugly, and red with heat and irritation. I let out a sharp breath through my nose and brace for a healer to come back.
The drink doesn’t take long to start working. Instead of easing the pain, like she said it would, it just makes me feel drunk. I glance up when the curtain shifts…and freeze. I blink a few times, not trusting my eyes.
Maybe the drink is making me hallucinate.
Princess Serenya steps inside. The dim lantern-light gilds the edges of her white hair, the black streaks framing her face like shadows carved into moonlight. I’ve never seen hair like that before. It should look strange, but somehow it doesn’t. It suits her—fierce and untouchable. Beautiful, even.
Which is exactly why I shove the thought away.
“You’re bleeding through the bandage you tied wrong,” she says flatly, crossing her arms.
I clear my throat, forcing nonchalance. “I’ve had worse.” I shrug, then instantly regret it when fire lances through my ribs.
She arches a brow. “Somehow, I doubt that. Lie back.”
Her command makes me bristle. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to heal you.” There’s the faintest edge of irritation now.
Something about the way she stands there, commanding and absolutely sure of herself, unsettles me more than any monster in the trial. I hesitate, but finally lower myself onto the cot.
Her hands hover above the gash. I tense, waiting for pain, but when her magic rises, it’s not pain I feel. It’s warmth, soft and steady with something darker twined through it. Notjust healing—something else.
Shadows spill from her—real shadows, like at the dinner—curling around my arms and legs, like smoke given weight.
My breath catches. “Your magic…”
“Focus on your breathing,” she snaps quickly. A flicker of something crosses her face before she reins it in. The shadows draw back, though the warmth remains, seeping deeper into me than any healer’s touch I’ve ever known.
The sensation pulls a sharp pang from my chest, but it’s gone before I can name it. For a heartbeat, when her eyes meet mine, it’s as if we both recognize something we don’t understand.
She’s the first to look away, turning back to her work.
“I didn’t know you had healing magic,” I mutter. Or at least, I think I do. My voice feels far away, and I’m struggling to stay conscious.
“It’s not widely known,” she says without looking at me. “But it isn’t a secret.” Her tone is clipped now, more guarded.
My own magic hums faintly, like it recognizes her voice. Andgods help me, I want her to keep talking. So I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
“So, uh…did you heal the others too?” I’m entirely sure why I ask. The question surprises even me. But I don’t take it back.
She doesn’t answer right away, still refusing to meet my eyes. Finally, she says, “No.” Nothing more.
