Page 17

He swung his legs over the side of the table, sitting upright. “I need to go. I can’t do this.”

He started to shove off the table, brushing aside his mama’s hand.

Raised voices. A strong arm gripped Merrik around the chest, forcibly holding him on the table despite how Merrik fought.

His head grew light, his vision going narrow. His pounding heart and gasping breaths filled his ears even as indistinct words pummeled him from all sides.

He had to get out of there. Escape.

But his legs. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t escape. Unless he crawled on his hands and knees, he was stuck.

Stuck. No legs. Stuck, stuck, stuck.

Then there was shouting—louder even than the thundering of his heart—from outside the doors to the surgical suite.

“…can’t go in…”

“…sterilized and clean…”

Bright blue magic flashed against the double doors.

Then Adry’s voice. “I dare any bacteria to survive the magic of the ancient kings.”

The doors burst open, and Adry stood there, glorious and dangerous in her evergreen uniform with her twin swords sheathed across her back. Her red-blonde hair flowed down her back and over her shoulders while hints of her magic still flickered around her, highlighted in the beams of sunlight streaming through the windows behind her.

Adry. She was here. Everything would be all right now.

She sauntered into the room, her gait graceful, while the orderly hovered just behind her like a buzzing fly, still muttering about cleanliness and irregularity.

“Adry.” He didn’t mean for her name to come out on a desperate breath.

“Hey.” She halted before him, a hint of a smile on her face and sparkling in her eyes. “Trying to make a break for it, I see.”

“Very ineffectually.” Perhaps it was the headiness of draining panic, but he found himself smiling back. When she rested a hand on his shoulder, the rush of his tension draining away at her touch made him dizzy.

“Perhaps you’d better lie back down.” Adry put more pressure on his shoulder. The glare she sent the man restraining Merrik had him stepping back, giving Merrik the space to actually breathe once again.

As Merrik swung his legs back onto the table, he grew aware of how his hospital gown had rucked up uncomfortably high on his thighs with all his struggling. He tried to subtly tug it down as he swiveled and lay down. The last thing he needed was to make this situation any more embarrassing.

As he settled onto his back once again, his head on the leather padding, he released a long, shuddering breath. She was here. He would be all right, no matter what happened.

The double doors opened again. This time the orderly dipped into an obsequious elven bow and mumbled, “Maresheni,” as a lovely elven woman swept inside, her deep green skirts swishing. She wore a dainty circlet on her brown hair, the only nod to the fact that she was queen of the elves.

His mama lurched into a curtsy, murmuring, “Your Majesty,” and Adry said with a grin, “Aunt Rheva.”

What was Queen Rheva doing here? Now? Merrik started to push to his elbows again, but Adry’s hand on his sternum shoved him down rather firmly.

The elven queen nodded to everyone, including the healers, surgeons, and nurses, who had paused in their preparations to bow or curtsy to the queen. “I am sorry for the delay.”

Mama’s eyes widened. “Are you going to be one of the healers, Your Majesty?”

“Of course.” Queen Rheva tipped her head toward Mama. “Weylind and I owe much to Iyrinder. I will do whatever I can to help his son.”

Merrik swallowed. His dacha would be honored to know the way his loyalty to his king was being rewarded, even all these years later.

“We appreciate it.” Mama dipped into another curtsy.

Queen Rheva smiled to acknowledge her thanks before she turned to face Merrik. “While I do not often participate in healings anymore, my magic is unique in how deeply I can sense and heal. I will ensure that your legs knit back together as whole as possible.”