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Chapter32

Eliza

Cold.

That’s the first thing she comprehended as she slowly came back to consciousness. She was cold. Freezing actually.

Eliza blinked her eyes open, her lids heavy. The world was blurry, and bits of ash were falling from the sky.

No.

Not ash.

Snow.

That was snow gently falling above her. Not much. It melted as soon as it touched the ground. Because she was in the mountains where it didn’t care if it was supposed to be spring.

The sky was dim, either with the first light or the last light of the day. How long had she been out?

She shifted slightly, then bit down on her scream of agony.

And with that, everything came rushing back— coming to the Fire Court, Razik, Varlis, the shirastone left in her shoulder, a dragon falling from the sky.

They’d used her to get to him. For what, she didn’t know. They couldn’t have gotten far trying to haul a huge dragon somewhere in the mountains. Not unless they had a Traveler with them.

Gods, she hoped they didn’t have a Traveler with them.

Unless Razik had shifted back.

But they would have had to remove the bolts they had shot him with, and if he had enough power to shift, he’d have enough power to burn them to nothing. They would be stupid to risk it.

Which begged the question again of how fucking long had she been out? How thoroughly had Varlis knocked her unconscious to ensure she didn’t wake up for hours, possibly days? The shirastone he’d left embedded deep in her shoulder didn’t help matters. There was only one way she’d be able to find Razik now, and to do that, she needed to get the arrow tip out of her body.

A string of unending curses left her mouth as she worked herself into a sitting position and then to her feet. She would have preferred to crawl, but there was no way her shoulder was supporting any kind of weight right now. So she stumbled her way to the cave behind her, hoping to the gods that Varlis and the seraphs hadn’t been smart enough to search it. That the two packs Razik had carried in here were still waiting.

She dropped to her knees when she was deep enough inside the cave to not be spotted by anyone flying overhead. Pressing her hand to the wound, it came away wet with blood. If she could still function, she hadn’t lost too much blood yet, which meant it was likely evening of the same day. To be honest, Varlis leaving the arrow-tip embedded in her shoulder was probably staunching the blood flow for now.

Eliza forced herself back to her feet, feeling in the dark for the wall. It had to be a good hour, if not more, before she tripped over their packs after fumbling along, feeling with her feet and hand. Or maybe it had just felt like hours because she had to force every step, every breath. She constantly had to stop when her legs trembled too much with the effort to keep her upright, or the blackness of her vision became more than the darkness of the cave. She couldn’t stop the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes as she landed hard on her side, trying to protect her injured shoulder as her feet got wrapped up in the packs. It took everything in her not to vomit from the pain.

She took a moment, breathing through her teeth.

She knew.

She knew the pain she was feeling wasn’t just her own, which told her Razik was in just as rough of shape as she was in, likely worse.

Bracing herself, she pulled a pack to her and began to unpack it. She couldn’t just dump it out and risk losing valuable items in the dark, so she painstakingly took things out one by one. She lined them up beside her, sorting them out by touch alone. This was her pack, thank Anala. She knew how she’d packed everything, so when her fingers found the small knife she was searching for, she let out another shaky breath.

That had been the easy part.

Sybil had yanked the dagger from her when she’d been stabbed before. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the male who had raised her was crueler than a godsdamn Witch.

Or the fact that such cruelty had likely saved her life.

She’d pulled out her leathers before she’d found the knife, and now she grabbed the closest one, placing a strap between her teeth and biting down.

Then she screamed, as she sank a finger into the wound, trying to figure out just how deeply he had broken off the arrow shaft. She could feel the splintered end of the shaft, but there was no way she was going to be able to dig it out with only one finger.

Yanking her hand back, Eliza spit out the leather and vomited, the pain too much. She didn’t know if she could do this. Cut out the shirastone. Pack the wound enough to hopefully let her Fae blood heal it to the point that she could use her magic. A shirastone wound would require a Healer, but she just needed to access her fire. If she could do that, she could figure out everything else.