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Besides, the pain in his legs was only a part of the agony. The ache in his heart couldn’t be dulled, no matter how much healing magic he was given.

A soft knock sounded on his door before his mama’s voice called, “May I come in?”

Merrik sighed, but he gathered the strength to say, “Yes.”

So far, she was the only one he had kept himself from yelling at or pushing away. But it had been close a few times.

His door opened and closed, followed by the soft padding of his mama’s footsteps crossing his room. His bed creaked slightly as she perched on the edge before her hand rested on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” That was all he was going to tell her.

“I’m about to start supper. Is there anything you’d like?”

“Whatever.” He didn’t care what he ate. Or if he ate. No matter what she made, he’d pick at it, but he wouldn’t be able to stomach more than a few bites.

“You need to eat to regain your strength.” His mama gave his shoulder a slight shake.

He shrugged. So what if he didn’t regain strength? There was no point to anything.

Mama sighed and stood. “I’ll be up with supper in a little while.”

He just gave another shrug.

She left with a whisper of footsteps and the soft click of the door shutting.

Merrik squeezed his eyes shut, the pain in his heart winding tighter. He couldn’t do this. Any of this. He just wanted it to be over. Behind him. Never to have happened in the first place.

With the force of everything building inside him, he couldn’t lie there any longer. He gave a shout and pounded his fist against his mattress. When that didn’t seem enough, he grabbed his pillow and flung it as hard as he could across the room.

The vial of healing juice went next, shattering with a satisfying crash against the wall. He threw the book from his bedside table, the water glass with its water spilling across the floor, the blanket in a wadded ball. He screamed. He shouted. He sobbed into his mattress.

His magic poured from him until roots and branches grew in tangles throughout his room, the ends lashing and whipping with the force of the emotions fueling his magic.

About the only thing he didn’t destroy was the wheeled chair the hospital had issued to him. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to get himself to the water closet, and, bad as things were now, needing his mother to help him with basic needs would be a humiliation beyond bearing.

None of the destruction helped. By the time he lay there, spent, he was numb and empty, exhausted from the outpouring of magic and tears.

Was emptiness any better than the aching pressure of before?

Nothing was better. It would never be better ever again.

For five days, Adry stopped by, first at the hospital, then at Aunt Patience’s and Uncle Iyrinder’s home below Ellonahshinel. And for five days, Merrik refused to see her.

Worse, he’d been refusing to return to the hospital for the surgery. He at least allowed the elf nurse and healer to visit and change the bandages, but that was it.

Each day, the lines dug deeper into Aunt Patience’s face, the smudges growing ever darker beneath her eyes. All this stress wasn’t any better for her than it was for Merrik.

Adry was trying to be there for him. But he wouldn’t let her. Nor could she be there for Fieran, far away in Aldon. She was stuck here in Estyra, going through the motions of the useless training and useless drills.

In the morning sunlight, Adry poured her frustration into her spins and flips, her swords humming as they sliced the air, the crackle of her magic scorching the nearby leaves and twigs.

With so much magic and pent-up frustration, her commander had sent her home early from training, dourly telling her to find her control before tomorrow. He’d looked at her as if she was the problem for being too much. Too much magic. Too advanced compared to the others in training. Too Laesornysh.

Growing up, she’d never felt like too much. After all, her dacha, brother, and sister could match her. Even her mama could when she wielded Dacha’s magic through the elven heart bond they shared. The Alliance Kingdoms existed and survived because Adry’s family was too much.

The ringing of the telephone jolted her, a shot of fear thrumming through her veins. The last time she’d gotten a telephone call at this time of day, her mama had called to tell her about Fieran’s and Merrik’s crashes.

What else was wrong? Had her dacha been injured? Had Fieran taken a turn for the worse?