Page 35 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Morgana

“ W hat can I do for you?” Diomi asks. He returned to the chamber without any of the other council members—perhaps realizing we’ve had enough of them for one day—bringing two dryads carrying a stretcher with him instead.

“Maybe you’ve done enough,” Leon snaps at Diomi, and even as I’m being lifted onto the stretcher, I give him a warning look.

I know he’s still angry, but the one responsible for harming us has been dealt with, and we still need to find a way to work with the ones remaining.

Something tells me that their guilt about the mortifus attack will go a long way helping us get what we want.

“Firstly,” I say, “you can let our friends into this building. Or at least take us somewhere we can all be together. I won’t have us separated anymore just because you deem us unworthy.” I try to look as authoritative as I can while swaying gently on the stretcher.

Diomi nods eagerly, suitably penitent. “Of course. We’ll take you to one of our infirmaries. The others can either meet you there or join you in our spare residences after we’ve seen to your injuries.”

I look up at Leon. “Will you go get them?” I ask. “And find Etusca too?”

After the shock of the attack, I need to see everyone I care about in this place safe and well .

Leon frowns, clearly not wanting to leave my side. I reach out to squeeze his fingers.

“Please,” I ask, and he looks to Diomi for reassurance.

“Fixing broken bones is my specialty,” Diomi assures him. “I promise you she’s in safe hands.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” Leon says, then lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it. He holds my gaze for a moment before letting go and heading off to find the others.

The dryads carry me through yet more corridors until I glimpse a brief stretch of sky above me as we cross a courtyard.

Then they’re laying my stretcher down and helping me onto a soft, plump bed.

The infirmary room is painted in gentle green tones, lavender lightly scenting the air.

The furnishings are simple, but beautifully made.

I finally relax as the others leave, and Diomi helps prop me up on a bank of cushions as soft as clouds.

“Now, if I may examine your leg, Your Highness?”

I let him cut the fabric of my pants away, his hands so steady and quick I barely feel anything beyond the dull ache of the break.

I grimace when he pulls the cloth back, however, revealing the swollen, blue limb.

It’s obvious where the most damage is. My thigh is distorted, with a dark—almost black—column of purple dominating the outer side.

“Ah,” he says, as if he now understands everything he needs to do.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to lose it,” I say. I’m only half joking, suddenly anxious at the sight of the damage.

“Not at all.” He smiles, and I suddenly see the family resemblance to Etusca. “We’ll give you something for the pain, and then I can get to work.”

He leaves for a moment before returning with a potion.

The taste is sweet like honey, and minutes after taking it, I feel wonderful, like I’m floating on air.

It loosens every muscle in my body, so I barely notice when Diomi starts to maneuver my broken limb, adjusting the awkward angle and straightening my knee.

I know it should hurt, but I just watch with interest as he lays his cool hands on my upper thigh and starts to murmur in old Agathyrian .

The fizz of viatic magic runs across my nerves. It feels different from my magic, though not unpleasant as it sinks deeper into my leg. I inhale at the strange feeling of my bones being knitted together.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m told it can be a disconcerting sensation, but this may take a while. There’s quite a few fragments.”

“Like a puzzle?” I say.

Diomi thinks. “More like a broken piece of pottery you’re trying to glue back together.”

“So is my leg a vase or a decorative plate to be kept on a shelf?” I ask wryly.

He smiles. “A vase, definitely.”

“And what exactly are you keeping in that chamber where I killed the mortifus?”

His smile drops and he blinks, surprised by my abrupt question.

“You don’t miss much, do you, Your Highness?” he says, dropping his gaze as he concentrates on knitting together another piece of bone.

“Those stones—whatever they are—are the reason I survived,” I explain.

“When I touched them, their power fed into me and allowed me to access my magic with a whole new intensity.” There’s something very potent about those stones, and in the last hour, I’ve realized they’re probably the reason I’ve been feeling stronger and more energized since we got to Starfall.

“When I arrived here, I couldn’t access my magic at all, except for a few sparks,” I say to Diomi.

“Now suddenly I’ve found it again—and never more so than when I touched those stones. ”

The dryad doesn’t immediately meet my eyes, still focusing on his work. But eventually, he lifts his head, sighing.

“I shouldn’t really be telling you this without an official vote. But you’ve seen them now and can likely work out their origin. They are a big part of why some of the council have been so hostile to your presence in the first place.”

I watch him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“We call them gaidonesti ,” he says. The gods’ gift.

“They’re deposits of celestial rock: the fallen stars that give this city its name and the Miravow its sentience.

When they fell, they embedded themselves deep in the earth—what you saw was just the tip of some of them—and over millennia, the soil itself has absorbed their magic.

The trees of the forest grew out of earth rich with their power.

We dryads are also born and grow up on the same land, eating food harvested from the same environment, hence why we share a connection with the forest—and why we can connect with its power. ”

Some of this I know, or have guessed from my time spent in Agathyre. But I raise my eyebrows now in a silent question.

“I’m telling you this to explain why the stones are so precious to Agathyrians,” Diomi says.

“And why we guard the secret so fiercely. Most foreigners assume we have no idea precisely where the stars fell on Agathyre, and that we can’t directly access that legendary celestial power.

We let them believe that because we wish to protect the magic that created our home and runs in our blood. ”

I absorb this, thinking back to the moment when their intense power flooded through me.

“And I could access their power because…”

“Because you are a solari, yes,” Diomi says, finishing my thought. “That’s my guess, at least. Dryads don’t produce solari, and as far as I know, one has never come into contact with the gaidonesti. But the rock is celestial in origin, and therefore it makes sense you could channel its magic.”

I nod, swallowing down some disappointment. Part of me hoped my magic was back for good, but I suppose even early in my fight with the mortifus, I was only drawing on the magic of the gaidonesti. It sounds like as soon as I leave Starfall, I’ll be powerless again.

“Is everything alright, Your Highness?” Diomi asks, seeing my expression. “I’ve nearly finished with your leg. Then I’ll get one of the other healers to fix some of your more minor scrapes and bruises.”

“Thank you,” I say, “but it’s not those I’m worried about.

” Realizing my magic is still lost to me has reopened the wound, and it makes me bold.

“While I’m grateful to you for healing my leg, what I need isn’t a balm or a potion.

I need to get my power back. Do you think there’s any way you can help me do that? ”

“You said that it disappeared after you were held captive?” Diomi asks.

“Yes. Mal—he’s the half-dryad in our party—thinks the trauma of the torture diminished my inner flame.

” I feel the familiar spike of frustration whenever I think about it.

Knowing that the thing blocking my magic is inside me , I can’t help but feel I’m the one holding myself back.

But no matter how hard I fight to move on and not let the memories overtake me, my power remains elusive.

“As a solari, I rely on the celestial spark more than the average magic user,” I add.

I see the sympathy in his eyes and feel hopeful.

“Torture…” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t think I will ever understand the things humans and fae dream up to do to each other.”

“Will you help undo the damage?” I ask, staring him down.

“It’s not exactly the type of injury we’re used to healing,” Diomi says.

“Celestial flames aren’t particularly receptive to viatic magic.

” He pauses, and I can see the cogs turning in his mind.

“But it’s possible the gaidonesti could help.

It wasn’t something we could offer prior to the attack because some on the council were fearful of revealing the existence of the stones. But now…”

“Now I know about them,” I say. “You have Haldim to thank for that.”

I watch him, letting the implication of my words set in. It’s their fault we’re in this position, and they still have work to do to make amends.

I can tell Diomi understands, because he shifts a little and examines my leg again.

“Let’s try you walking on it,” he says, rising and offering me his hand.

He’s healed me beautifully. There’s nothing but a bit of stiffness to indicate that just an hour ago, my leg was a shattered mess.

“It’s incredible,” I say, studying my limb with amazement.

“Thank you,” Diomi says, and again I’m reminded of Etusca when he smiles. Then his face grows serious, and he reaches a decision.

“I’m sorry about everything you’ve been through, Your Highness,” he says. “Someone should never come to Agathyre and only find themselves in more pain. I will speak to the council about helping you heal your flame, and I’ll let you know their decision tomorrow.”

LEON