Even he wasn’t stupid enough to take on a Dirian warrior.
The guard stepped back.
Meri didn’t wait for permission.
She dropped beside Cordelle, hands glowing as she pressed them to his side. Magic surged from her palms—warm, golden, and tinged with the faint blue shimmer of internal stitching. Cordelle gasped, his back arching before his breath evened out again.
I exhaled, only then realizing I’d been holding it.
Ferrula stood over them like a fortress of flesh and steel, her shoulders heaving with fury and something deeper—something fragile.
Jax moved to her side without a word, placing a hand on her waist and gently pulling her back.
She didn’t resist.
She let him.
And for a moment, in all the chaos, that silence was the loudest thing in the world.
Chapter
Eight
Cordelle stirred, pushing himself up with a grunt as Meri pulled her hands back, the glow of her healing magic slowly fading.
He winced, but managed a crooked smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse, but steady. “This is becoming a habit.”
Meri gave a rare smile, brief and tired. “I am happy to help.”
Riven appeared on his left, slipping her arm around his back with ease. “Come on, Cordy. Let’s get you off the killing field before Ferrula makes someone else bleed.”
Naia appeared on his right, tucking herself under his other arm. “You’re lighter than I expected. And don’t you dare pass out again, I just cleaned my uniform.”
They led him across the grounds slowly, Cordelle limping between them, clearly dazed but alive. Ferrula’s eyes tracked them the entire way until they disappeared past the barracks threshold.
Meri gave me a parting nod and, without a word, turned and headed back toward the healers’ quadrant, her pace brisk but precise.
That was when I saw Quinn, standing in front of the Warder Tower, his robes fluttering faintly in the evening wind. His expression was unreadable, but his presence? Intentional.
I turned to Ferrula and Jax. “Give me a moment.”
They nodded, and I jogged across the grounds.
Quinn smiled when I reached him, though it was lined with fatigue.
“I found a reference to the fae elixir,” he said without preamble. “It was gifted to the first warders as part of the original treaty.”
Hope stirred for half a breath, then faded as he added, “But it’s long since been used up. It won’t cure the pool. It’s meant to assist magical beings in healing. It can’t subvert a spell. It can’t undo what’s been done.”
My stomach sank. “So it’s not the answer.”
“No,” he said. “But if we find the spellcaster behind the pool’s deterioration, we can remove the source.”
“We still have to find them first,” I muttered.
Quinn nodded. “Yes. But… there are certain elements that can enhance the fae elixir’s potency. Make it more reactive. If we can recreate a version of it, it might strengthen the king—temporarily. It’s called the Purging Flame.”
I met his eyes. “Yes. We’re aware. We will track them down soon.”
