Page 36 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)
The head healer, Cira, and Yendel, the head magicer, arrived within ten minutes, cloaked in robes woven with spellthread, their presence was commanding but gentle.
Eiran barely looked at them as they entered.
His eyes were only on Maeve, still glowing faintly, chest rising with slow, even breaths.
He stood aside reluctantly, letting them work.
Letting strangers place their hands on his mate while he clenched his fists and focused on not tearing the room apart with nerves and waiting.
Cira, a tall female fae with golden eyes and hands that pulsed with warmth, turned towards him after her initial assessment.
“As the Princess said, she is well,” she said softly. “She has undergone a complete fae awakening. Natural, but extremely intense. Her mind and body are adjusting to the sudden change in magic. It is unusual for it to be so delayed and then arrive so forcefully, but she is strong.”
“Yes, she is,” Eiran murmured, heart aching with pride and guilt in equal measure.
The magicer, Yendel, a large, greying fae, nodded, finishing a delicate scan of the residual energy in the room.
“There is no blockage, no curse and no harm. She was simply waiting. Perhaps her soul was waiting for the right moment, or for the clarity of her own desire. Her capture by Avelan may have disrupted the natural sequence, but all is well.”
Eiran stared down at Maeve, his jaw tightening. “She’ll wake soon?”
The healer’s expression became regretful. “She may sleep for a time. Her body is conserving energy. The shift required more from her than any of us anticipated. A week, maybe less, but I’m sure no more than that.”
A week, another week without her.
They had only shared two nights together, but he felt like the air had been ripped from the room. He would have to wait.
Again.
Cira stepped closer, hesitating before speaking. “She bears old wounds. Human ones. Faint, but still felt under the surface. I can remove them, if you wish. ”
Eiran froze, as she gestured towards Maeve’s ribs, her abdomen, her legs, the scar beneath her shoulder. “From what I can tell there are knife wounds, whip marks and burn scarring. They were healed with human methods, but I may be able to erase them entirely if you wish.”
He saw it, flashes of that night Maeve had barely spoken of.
The night they dared to touch her, hurt her and leave her broken and dying, alone.
Rage that was black and all-consuming, ripped through him, his vision sharpened and the air crackled with suppressed magic.
He wanted blood. No… he wanted screams. He wanted to find the ones responsible and unmake them.
Not with a blade, not with magic but with his hands.
Not with mercy but, with utter tortuous ruin.
It would be slow, excruciatingly so, and with his great fucking pleasure.
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “She decides.”
The healer blinked, startled. “I can remove them now… ”
“No,” Eiran growled. “She lives with them, they are hers. Marks of what she endured and survived. You do not take those without asking.”
He turned towards Maeve, his voice softer now, trembling with devotion. “She is not something to be altered because it makes someone else feel better. She is not yours, nor mine. She chooses what stays and what goes. When she’s conscious, when she’s ready, she can decide.”
The healer nodded her head, voice gentle. “As you wish, Prince Eiran.”
Aeilanna crossed to the side table where the tinctures and wards had been set. Her fingers trailed briefly over the rim of a crystal vial, but her gaze was fixed on the Chain, still coiled, now quiet, around Maeve’s wrist.
“It changed,” she murmured. “The Chain. It evolved, and it responded to her, reshaped itself. Those runes, I’ve only seen about half of them before, and even then, only in fractured records.”
Yendel stepped closer, arms folded. “The resonance surge during her Awakening was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The Chain may have amplified it, possibly even shaped it.”
A pause followed, heavy with implications and Cira frowned. “Then we should remove it if it’s affecting her magic.”
“No.” Yendel’s voice was immediate. “If it’s woven into her awakening, then it may now be entwined with her essence. Separating them could cause backlash, magical collapse or maybe even death. ”
Cira’s jaw tightened. “So what? We do nothing? Just watch it fuse further into her being?”
They both turned to Aeilanna and the Spellweaver’s expression didn’t waver. She looked between them, then down at Maeve, at the subtle glow of her skin. “No,” she said softly but with iron in her tone. “We do not remove it.”
Cira inhaled to protest, but Aeilanna cut her off. “It doesn’t belong to the realm anymore,” she said. “It belongs to her, and to try to take it now would be an act of violence.”
Aeilanna looked to Yendel, her eyes calm, clear. “We’ll write to the Runekeepers in Eldmire. Begin quiet, careful study. This is no longer an artefact to be secured, it’s now a relationship to be understood.”
Yendel gave a slight bow. “Agreed.”
Cira held her silence, then inclined her head as well, albeit with tension still rippling across her shoulders.
“We’ll leave the protections,” Aeilanna said. “And a stabilising rune-net in case she flares again.”
They were still huddled in conversation as they left through the door, Eiran barely registered their departure. He sat beside Maeve’s bed, brushing her hair away from her face. She looked peaceful, but still unreachable.
A fucking week.