Page 35 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)

Chapter 35

Calla

I hadn’t visited the healers since Brennan’s death. The dark, cold rooms, tucked away on the first level below ground in a corner opposite the kitchens, had never bothered me before that night. While I rarely needed to see the royal healers, I had always found them to be friendly enough and always eager to help no matter the ailment, whether it was a splitting headache I couldn’t shake or a pesky burn in need of a soothing salve.

I could have simply let the guard take Oryn’s injured body back to the castle on his own, but a pang of guilt pushed me to personally see he made it to my healers. If Matthias could carry him for a few kilometers through the forest, then I could accompany him and ensure his healing.

Assuming he would heal at all.

The wound on the back of his head had only started to heal, as all fae’s injuries did, but not as fast as usual due to the location of the injury. I didn’t exactly know how our healing abilities worked, only that head injuries—injuries that harmed the brain specifically—slowed the process significantly, making it almost impossible to recover without a healer’s help.

“Will he be okay, Ami?” I whispered from the foot of the bed where I stood, watching our senior healer dress his wound.

Silently waving her sister, Brit, over to help her, she didn’t look at me as she answered. “I wish I could say definitively one way or the other. Had he arrived sooner, I could possibly give a more confident estimation, but… At least that general did what he could and got him to you when he did. He could have left him there to die, after all.”

I pushed aside the image of Matthias’s cocky grin, biting back my frustration that Asher had let his goading get to him. Whatever happened between those two, they damn well deserved it after acting so immaturely.

I nodded crisply to Ami. “Thank you, truly. Anything you need—anything he needs—it’s yours.”

Allowing myself one quick look at Oryn’s sleeping face, I pivoted away and headed toward the exit.

“I will keep you informed of his condition should it change, Your Majesty,” Ami said.

I didn’t look back as I called over my shoulder, “Any updates should go through General Marlowe.”

I had nearly made it to the door when our third healer, Jocelyn, stepped in front of me. Her big brown eyes searched mine with such an intense concern, I couldn’t help but look away, focusing instead on the shelves beside the door, stocked with all manners of herbs, oils, mortars, and bottles, somehow seeming less creepy than the stash at Minerva’s cottage.

“Is the tea helping?” she asked quietly, though I couldn’t fathom why.

I nodded, still averting my eyes. “Yes, thank you. It has been such a blessing.”

“And you’re still able to use your powers, yes?”

Slowly I met her gaze, silently debating how much to divulge to her. “I am.”

“No noticeable differences?” she asked, her brows twitching as if they couldn’t decide whether to raise or lower.

I shrugged casually. “Seem easier to control, which is nice.”

“Good, good,” she muttered, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m glad it’s helping. If you need anything else, or if it stops being effective, do let me know, yes?”

“I will, of course,” I said, lightly dropping my hand to her clasped ones. “Perhaps you could use some of that tea yourself, Jocelyn?”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty. Just nervous about this tournament, is all. I doubt this will be the last injured male we see before this is over.”

“They knew the risks,” I said, hoping to reassure her somehow, but my voice sounded as empty as the fake smile I wore.

“Of course, I know that,” she said, nodding several times before sliding out of my way.

“I will have the general come check on Oryn later tonight after this trial ends.” My eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing the time of day, and I swung my glance over to the clock on the wall. The sun would be setting soon, if it hadn’t already.

“Go,” Jocelyn urged, gently nudging me out the door.

By the time I stepped out through the castle doors, the sun had already retreated below the horizon. Isa, standing alone on the stairs, offered a wan smile when our eyes met.

“No sign of anyone?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet, but it only just set. They have a bit of time.”

It was another ten minutes before someone stepped out of the forest onto the main road and began jogging toward us. Graham. Even from here I could see his triumphant smile beaming.

I dug my elbow into Isa’s arm and whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “He does know there are no bonus points for arriving first, right?”

Isa chuckled lightly. “I’m sure he assumes he’s the only one to finish at all.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to me, and I began scanning the edges of the forest for any sign of more survivors. I was still searching when Graham bounded up the steps, barely out of breath, and handed a gold medallion to Isa.

“Forty points,” Isa said, marking the amount next to his name on her roster. “Five more minutes and it would have been less. Good job, Graham.”

He started to walk toward me, but Isa stopped him with a hand on her chest and a slight shake of her head.

“Not tonight. Competitors will get to speak to Her Majesty tomorrow.”

“But—” he started to protest, swinging his gaze to me, though I avoided it, still staring at the forest.

“Those are the rules for tonight,” Isa said, sternly. She pointed to a crate beside her feet. “Return your daggers and stand aside, please.” Graham immediately obliged, pulling two blades from his belt and dropping them noisily into the bin.

I caught Isa’s attention and mouthed my gratitude. If I hadn’t had such a friend, I didn’t know how I would survive any of this.

Graham’s disappointed groan floated up to us. Two more fae—one notably larger than the other—were racing toward the castle. Isa checked her pocket watch as they reached the bottom stairs, both doubling over and panting.

“Korben. Beck,” Isa said. “Thirty points to each of you. Daggers in the bin, please.”

The smaller one—Beck—started to protest, but Korben elbowed him hard in the ribs before Isa could even lift a hand to stop him.

He looked down at his companion. “We’re late, it’s fine. We at least beat the general. He’s probably dead by now anyway.”

My stomach hollowed out, and I stepped up alongside Isa, already blurting out my question. “What do you mean? What happened to him?”

Isa rounded on me, her eyes wide and silently screaming at me to shut up and let her handle this.

Shit.

I retreated, refusing to look at any of the males gawking at me. Any attempt to explain my reaction would go ignored, no doubt. They would see it—no matter how truthful it was—as nothing but a poor excuse for my obvious favor for the stars-damned general.

“No daggers, Korben?” Isa asked, scratching away at her paper.

“Lost ’em,” he said, his eyes roving over me as he answered, sending a shudder of pinpricks up my back.

Looking back to the tree line, I pretended to be searching for more survivors, but in truth I was frantically considering what possibly could have happened to Matthias and Asher in there. Had they killed each other? I swallowed hard when I remembered Asher hadn’t been wearing a pendant. He had declined, insisting he didn’t need one as he was staying out of the trees. Had the forest caught him? How would I explain to his brothers if anything happened to him?

Vaguely I noticed the arrival of two more fae, Isa’s voice sounding muffled and far away as she noted their names: Seb and Phillip. Time passed, the skies fading into a deeper and deeper blue as we continued to wait. It was Graham’s voice that finally snapped me back to the present.

“Fifteen more minutes and he’ll have zero points, general,” he said. Isa didn’t respond. “Longer than that and he’s disqualified.”

Isa shifted her eyes to him. “Yes, I’m aware.”

The five males swiveled their heads toward the main road again, but it was empty. I swallowed hard, cursing the damned Emeryn general in my head. If he hadn’t been such a prick, he wouldn’t have had Asher trying to kill him…and seemingly succeeding.

I couldn’t wait and watch any longer. Dropping my hand to Isa’s shoulder, I gestured toward the door and she nodded in understanding. My presence here had no bearing on the outcome of the trial, and I didn’t want to deal with the inevitable gloating from the other males when Matthias failed.

As soon as my fingers touched the door’s handle, though, a loud gasp brought my head spinning back around. Two of the males were pointing, but I couldn’t see around everyone. Isa lifted her hand to her mouth. Quickly I came up beside her.

“What is it?”

“Asher,” she whispered, lifting one finger away from her lips to point toward our friend.

Stepping forward, I pushed past the others—ignoring Graham’s feeble attempt to reach out and stop me. Asher, still in dragon form, lumbered up to me. His eyes were glassy from exhaustion as they shifted up toward his back. Lowering his body to the ground, he dropped the wing closest to me to reveal Matthias lying there, motionless. Even in the dim light, I could see the pulse at his neck, but it seemed much too slow and weak.

Somewhere behind me Isa called for guards to come quickly and take the general to the healers.

“What happened?” I asked, though I knew neither of them could answer me in their current states.

Asher let out a slight rumbling sound as he nudged my hands with his front foot. Lifting it higher, he held it over my hands, and it took me a moment to realize he was trying to hand me something. I opened my palms and nearly choked when from his grasp fell a heavy gold medallion.