Page 53 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

I remember Emek nicking young children. Daton drinking their blood with such voracity.

I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing, and I could barely breathe because there was something in the air that shifted.

I didn’t know how to name it, but it commended reverence.

As if my presence at the moment alone was sacrilege.

I was torn between repulsion and awe. But the other Puresouls only scoffed.

So a deep part of me understands why she insists that only I heal him.

Still, I stare at her with a slack jaw because he’s obviously lost too much blood to survive and treating such injuries is way beyond my abilities.

“This is the head of the royal healers of Renya. She is the most accomplished healer in Amada. I— ”

Niska grabs my wrist in a bruising manner, and it feels as if my bones might crack.

“Save him,” she grunts through clenched jaws, desperation and adamance in her voice.

Even in her distress, she will not let go of her hate toward the Renyans.

And in truth, Daton would consider her actions honorable.

Impossible Mongans. Not an inch of pragmatism in them.

“I’ll help you,” Anya whispers to me, and I nod to her.

Daton went to battle with his armor, but the armor didn’t survive the onslaught.

I cut through the clothes that remain on his body and rinse him with fresh water to be able to see the wounds and clean them before treatment.

Anya hands me a jar with a healing extract.

But these injuries can only result in death.

His cuts are so deep that I can see bone in more than one place.

He’s lost too much blood. I start the chanting with a trembling voice, and I apply the extract to the deepest wound.

An Aldonian would have tried to stitch the wounds up, but that is not the way the Renyan healing works.

My tears make it hard for me to see the injuries, and my sobs muffle the chant. As hard as I try to regain my self-control, I can’t stop the tears and sobs as pure terror grips me. I can feel Niska’s eyes on me, but still, I can’t stop crying. I have seen him injured before but never like this.

I keep applying the extracts and chanting the best I can. Anya orders my sister to bring her more remedies, and the queen obeys. More extract is needed because there are so many wounds, and they are so deep that it only covers a third of them.

I continue the chant, not stopping. Again and again, the words fall from my lips.

My eyes are dry. There are no tears left in me.

Anya brings me another jar of healing extract.

I don’t even know what’s in it. The scent is so different from the extracts my mother taught me to concoct.

But these are not healing methods of an amateur.

I can feel the extract hum with power, whisper its need to heal.

Anya returns with another remedy, a different one this time.

I never stop chanting the healing spells.

Yet my mind keeps wandering. What a fool I’ve been to try to protect my heart from him, to fear him walking away from me.

Only now, when he is walking away forever, do I realize what a fool I’ve been trying not to love him when he already holds my heart so completely.

I should have spent more nights with him while I had the chance.

Like last night, with no barriers between our bodies and souls.

I should have taken whatever he would give me instead of fearing the things he couldn’t have given.

Because surely I can never love again the way I love him. And I wish I had made it known to him.

Niska helps us turn Daton on his side so I can treat his back, which looks equally bad.

I swear I can see his damn kidney. I treat it the same way, rinse it and then apply the remedies while chanting the spells.

When I’m done, I sit on my heels, and Anya leaves Niska and me to attend to other wounded Mongan warriors.

“You should go and rest,” I tell Niska because she looks so fatigued I fear she’ll collapse.

She looks at me pensively. “You love him.” It’s not a question.

It’s strange having this conversation over the limp body of the man who’s never told me he loved me, nor did I ever tell him I love him.

And while I don’t need to hear him say it to know that he does, I should have said it while I had the chance.

That doesn’t mean what happened last night could happen again, even if he weren’t dying.

He’s still a Mongan, and I’m still a Puresoul.

And yeah, we’re in a Renyan infirmary, but only Mongans shed their blood today for Amada.

Things are not changed. And he is the uncrowned king of his people.

He needs an uncrowned queen at his side, not a fallen princess of the enemy.

Still, no matter what happens, I would never have undone last night.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole.” Niska sighs and rubs her face with her hand. “I just—”

“You wanted to protect him.” I squeeze her hand. “I get it.”

She squeezes my hand back, and she sobs, “He can’t die.”

I feel someone grip my shoulder, and I look up to see Bahar. He’s barely recognizable with all the blood and gore that covers him. “He’s alive.” He sounds relieved, his eyes on Daton. But Daton’s life is hanging by a thread.

Only then do I notice that I don’t hear screams anymore.

Moans and groaning, yes, but no squeals of the demichads.

“We killed them all at the end.” Bahar’s voice is somber.

“There was a point I thought we were not going to make it. But the Goddess was lenient for once.” He shifts his eyes to Niska.

“Twelve dead.” And she swears under her breath.

It could have been so much more. It’s a small miracle.

Yet for their loved ones, it’s anything but.

“We need to go inform the families.” She grimaces and rises. But she sways from exhaustion, and in the blink of an eye, Bahar is next to her, supporting her.

“Is Kala all right?” I ask as they turn to leave for their terrible task.

“She’s fine. She went to see Kon.” Bahar gives me a rueful smile, and a wave of relief washes over me.

Anya comes to sit near me. “This is unbelievable,” she gasps incredulously.

“I have never seen anyone heal so quickly, even from far lesser injuries.” I look at Daton again.

The bleeding has stopped, and his wounds seem less deep.

Then a roar of pain escapes his lips, and I’m so relieved that I start laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“What’s the big fuss about? Of course the asshole won’t die.

He’s the fucking Butcher, for fuck’s sake,” Siean grunts.

I didn’t even notice her approaching. But as I meet her indigo eyes, they glint.

The Queen of Renya just let her sister and her main healer save the life of her nation’s greatest nightmare, so maybe things have changed a little.

And if she had to wrap it in derisive remarks, so be it because I know right now that my sister accepts that I love him.

And that is just another mark on history in Amada. And on hers and mine.

***

It is the middle of the night when the music and singing begins. But now it is not the Mongans alone. It is Kozaries and Renyans as well, while the Aldonians stand observing somberly from afar.

My brother has already attributed the victory to his archers.

Claiming it was them who stopped the demichads from climbing out of the canyon.

Ignoring that the Mongans slayed thousands of demichads while only about a dozen emerged from the canyon at all.

But it seems that while the Kozaries have gold and Renyans have healing, Aldonians have only lies.

That has been their only resource for years. Their only commodity.

As I step into the crowd, a large Mongan raises me to his shoulders, and I yelp in surprise.

Up on his shoulders, I see Niska being carried on another Mongan’s shoulders.

I have no idea how she hasn’t collapsed by now from exertion.

She grins at me, and I almost fall from the Mongan’s shoulders from how different that looks on her instead of her usual murderous expression.

I hear the crowd roaring before I see him.

They’re not allowed to kneel to anyone but the Goddess, but the reverence is there.

The adoration as they shout his name, as they praise the Emancipator.

He limps slowly, Emek and Bahar at his side.

He looks pained. But he’s alive. Anya said it was as if death herself spat him out after swallowing him.

And he’s walking. I would have never believed it possible.

His eyes meet mine, and he smiles at me.

That smile. It makes my toes curl and my blood seethe every time. Just one smile.

Niska told me how he got his injuries, that he put himself between her and the demichads as they surrounded her. I was proud of him but couldn’t fight selfish fury at his actions at the same time. Fury at his willingness to depart from this world and from us, even if it was for the noblest reasons.

But since he gave me his axes, not a word has passed between us.

And I now start questioning whether there is an us.

What if last night was more to do with the world coming to its end?

Yes, I’m sure he loves me, but now that the demichads are dead, all the reasons he and I could never be together are raising their ugly heads in my mind.

He is a king. He can deny it as much as he wants, but I see how the people cling to him.

As much as he is hated by the Puresouls, he is admired by his own people.

And not only for his skills in battle. He is more than a warrior.

He is the north star for them to follow.

And he has become that light for me too.

Always emboldened me, even when I had so little faith in myself.

Finally, I’m relieved from the Mongan’s shoulders, and another Mongan grabs my hand and pulls me to dance. They even manage to make me drink some bree. Maybe because my wounded arm hurts so badly, I’m willing to drink it to numb the pain.

At some point, I am pulled from the party by my waist. Daton leads me a few feet away from the revelry.

Still, anyone can see us as he nuzzles my hair, his arms around me.

I melt into his embrace. His honey-like scent fills me.

He kisses me lightly, trailing his lips from my jaw to my lips.

“Emek told me you saved her.” Another sweet, light kiss.

“My fierce woman.” And I can’t help but blush at his praises.

“But then you saved me too.” His lower hand lazily draws circles on my lower back.

“It was Anya’s remedies,” I manage to whisper as his other hand brushes my ribs so close to my already heavy breast.

“No, it was you. It was your voice that beckoned me. I’ve never met death before. She is alluring,” he says with a low voice, and I never thought it was possible to be jealous of death. “But not nearly as alluring as my fina.”

“You never told me what fina means.” My eyelids tremble as his lips remain so close to mine, as his thumb grazes the lower part of my breast.

“It’s hard to translate. It means more than one thing.

It means that you are my heart, my soul, my life.

” He kisses me, and I moan into his mouth.

His hand moves from my waist to my nape.

His tongue enters my mouth and swirls against mine.

I clench my thighs, trying to manage the throb he’s causing in me.

Slowly he pulls his mouth from mine. It’s a good thing his hands hold me, or I would surely tumble.

“What will you do now, Lian?” he asks, and I struggle to make sense of the words as every part of my body is already molten.

I have no answer to give him. Amada’s assignment is done.

And there are so many things that need to change in Amada, but I don’t even know how to start.

When I don’t answer, he looks me in the eyes with his starry ones.

“Niska will be the new warlord. I’m done.

You reminded me there is more to life than death.

” His fingers play with the locks of my hair.

“In the Land of the Outlaws, there is a piece of land I know. Not big. But the weather is mild, and things will easily grow there.”

“You want to go back to being a farmer?” I look at him, baffled. He’s talked of it before, but after seeing him here, so regal and formidable, it seems so far from the power he holds within his people.

“I liked it once. I was good at it once.” His eyes search mine, and I feel he’s struggling with his words. “Come with me. I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s not a rich life. It’s no match for any palace.”

“I don’t care about that.” I shake my head.

Then his hand caresses my cheek. “Living with a Cursed One, it’s not a smart choice, Lian.” He sounds almost scolding suddenly.

“Never said I’m smart,” I simper.

“But you are smart and brave and kind. You are everything good. You have honor in you more than anyone I’ve ever met,” and I marvel at his words because I know he would never have said them lightly. He looks at me with all this hope in his eyes. I’ve never seen hope in his eyes before.

“Yes. The answer is yes.”

He grins at me, a dazzling grin full of teeth and starry eyes, and then even though he’s still injured, he pulls me up in the air and spins us both in a circle of celebration.

I can’t help but chortle at this joyful act by my usually brooding man.

But as he kisses me deeply, I forget to laugh, and lose myself in the kiss.

I feel as if my heart will burst out of my body any moment now with how happy I am.

This feels so right. To go with him. There is no other path I would rather follow.