Irdelron had beaten him with a whip dipped in Phaetyn blood when he didn’t kill me in the fields. My kiss, my will, had healed him then. I would do it again.
I pushed my healing energy into him, and as I did, my mind’s eye noticed a strange presence within him. I searched deeper, flinging out my Phaetyn senses like nets. There were golden droplets through Tyrrik’s body. There was light where there should only be dark. The gold was poisoning him, and I knew only one thing could poison a Drae—the spikes were coated with Phaetyn blood—Tyrrik was dying.
I systematically moved through his body, using my Phaetyn ability to sear away the gold drops. I worked, losing track of all time, until I eventually came to his heart. My lips quivered where they were pressed to his. His heart was covered in a golden film as though the droplets had converged there and grown into the organ like roots. I thought of my heart pumping blood through my body, the loud pounding in my chest, the roaring in my ears. I thought of my power in him and willed the healing force I barely understood to fill him, to replace what he’d lost all over the slick ground beneath us. I pushed the green energy into him, surrounded the film around his heart with the vibrant intensity, and squeezed the Phaetyn power as if it were the shell of a nut. The golden roots fractured and fizzled, loosening their grip as they broke into pieces.
With a gasp, I broke the kiss, my head spinning. Tyrrik’s head lolled to one side again.
Blinking to clear my vision, I listened to his thin heartbeat and willed it to match mine. He exhaled again, this time more breath than the last, and I could feel his heart beating against my palm.
Whatever Phaetyn reserves were within me, they were seriously depleted. I was scraping at the barrel, but I knew if one drop of the gold barrier stayed, Tyrrik was dead.
Steadying myself, I gently brought his head back to the center and sealed our lips again. Envisioning the blue flame deep within my core, I stoked the power of my Phaetyn energy and pushed, no gushed, this force into Tyrrik, bathing him inside and out with my healing force. Tyrrik was Drae, dark and warm like night; his heart had to reflect this. A sharp pain stabbed at my temples, but I doubled my efforts as I saw the golden beads dissolving and even held fast when Tyrrik arched off the ground. I burned away everything, every single piece of poisonous gold, until everything was dark and warm once more.
I slumped against Tyrrik. The sun beat down on us, and the cool mountain air had warmed at some point. I’d faded out, exhausted by the expenditure of energy. I huddled against Tyrrik, tears slipping down my cheeks into his clothing. How had that happened so fast? One moment we’d been flying, and the next, Tyrrik was nearly dead. I should have listened to him and not looked. I hadn’t known that seeing what those women did would snap me out of my Drae form. Had Tyrrik realized? Why didn’t he just tell me the risk?
The wound was still there but much smaller and no longer a hole all the way through him. The lesion still oozed blood but at a much slower pace.
I could barely keep my eyes open, and the thought of willing anything seemed insurmountable. But he wasn’t even conscious, and he was still bleeding. My mind raced for another option. I discarded trying more tears on the wound because there was something stronger . . . King Irdelron drank Phaetyn blood from his golden vial.
I picked up a stone, breaking the brittle shard so one side had a sharp edge. I sliced the rock through the meat of my palm and stared as blue-tinged blood dripped out. I pushed the gash to his chest, mixing our blood. His confidence that I couldn’t hurt him better be right. I waited, staring at the wound, hoping for a miracle. Was he getting better? The wound seemed smaller. I looked at my palm and swore. My palm had healed; Tyrrik had not.
I cut my palm deeper this time, squeezing the blood into his wound. My heart pounded in my ears as my blood oozed, and I dripped it into the deep erosion. I wiped at his blood with the bottom edge of my aketon, trying to see if anything was helping. I sobbed as the width and depth of the lesion waned. The tissue fused, the terrible, punctured injury melding together.
I swallowed the lump at the back of my throat. Tyrrik was still out of it, and he’d lost so much blood. How much blood could a Drae lose and still live?
I didn’t stop until Tyrrik’s skin had knit together into a pale line. I sagged against him, head pounding, vision blurry. Wavering, I lay my head on his chest, concentrating, and hiccupped again when I heard his heartbeat. The rate was steady but slow. His respirations weren’t wet anymore, and although they were slow, his breaths were deeper.
My lips trembled, and I heaved a sigh. Not dead. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please be okay.”
12
The sky was dark and the air crisp when I awoke. Our twin moons provided the only light, hugging high in the blackness. My body was stiff and achy, and my disorientation disappeared as soon as Tyrrik shifted beside me.
He groaned, and I sat bolt upright.
“Drak,” I mumbled, shaking off the lingering fogginess. I ran my hands over his now perfectly smooth chest, assuring myself his wound hadn’t opened again. “Tyrrik,” I said in a tight voice. “You’re al’right?”
He chuckled wearily, a low throaty sound of warm embers. “Just weak. Are you okay, Khosana?”
A tear slipped from my eye, emotions breaking away from my control. “You’re worried about me? I nearly killed you.”
His eyes found mine, slightly unfocused. “You’ve been Drae less than three days; the fault was mine. I should’ve been clearer. You saved my life.”
I sniffed, nodding my head, my chest heaving. “I thought you were dying.”
Smiling, he tugged on my hand, and I let him pull me down. Resting my head on his chest, shoulders still shaking, I listened to the steady thumping of his heart as I absorbed what he’d said. “What happened to the rocks here? Why are they covered in Phaetyn blood?”
“Maybe it’s how the Phaetyn protect their forest.” Tyrrik ran his hand over my hair, trailing his fingers down my back.
Welcome to Zivost forest.
Tyrrik’s touch was a major breach in our boundaries, but I was too tired to care. In fact, if I was honest, I craved reassurance right now. “You really would’ve died?”
His face was painted with gore, but when he smiled, my heart lifted.
“I was dying, Ryn. You saved me.”
I harrumphed and patted his chest through his torn and bloody aketon. With a deep breath, I sat up and said, “I figured I owed you.”
“How are you feeling?” Tyrrik asked, sitting and wincing with the movement.
I grimaced, watching him. I hadn’t almost died, so I had no idea why he was asking me. “Al’right. How are you?”