Page 100 of The Chains You Defy

“Then you simply fainted. Your grandfather didn’t appear to be rattled or worried, but angry. He hurried to you, and before you ask, yes, he fully ignored me. Instead, he shouted some furious-sounding Galantian words I got no translation for and shook you while resembling a rabid animal. He kicked you several times in the ribs, stared as if he was waiting for a reaction, then spun around and left. Ever since we’ve been alone.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Guess he’s disappointed we survived his little game.”

Her hand came into view, but before she touched my cheek, she withdrew. Gods, why?

“No, Dion. Don’t pout like that. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“There’s nothing you can do to make my condition worse. By all means—”

Instead of finishing the sentence, both of us noticed the inky strand emerge, which had adorned her thigh earlier. Naya smiled with fondness in her eyes as its tip curled around her wrist and directed her hand to my face until the warmth of her skin on mine elicited a sigh from my lips.

My peace didn’t last long.

Oh, fuck.

“Are you alright, Nayana? Did I pull too much at your Potential? Too hard?”

On the edge of my returning consciousness, I realized the absence of light around us. My attack must not only have killed all the monsters but also exterminated the moss. Huh.

Gods, then why did my skin still crawl under the scrutiny of their collective sentience? Was this some kind of weird phantom presence? Not unlike the pain people felt in the limbs they’d lost? Or was I going insane on top of everything?

“No. At first, the intensity came as a surprise, but I’m fine.”

My wonderful, strong Nayana. Her Potential had to run deep if she wasn’t even a little exhausted. Hm—if we wanted, we could conquer the worlds together. But since I wasn’t His Fucking Royal Majesty, the prospect held no appeal.

Getting rid of my grandfather, yes.

Ruling?

No, thank you. I didn’t need a position of power to know I was better than everyone else.

Relief crashed through me like a wave in an unruly ocean.

Adrenaline faded, and although it should have been impossible, the agony in my multitude of wounds intensified with a vengeance. But I’d endure every discomfort as long as Nayana was in one piece. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m only heated up from your urgent pulling. And worried about you. We should get you back to your room. And fetch Ireas to have a look at your damages.”

Her concern did peculiar things to me, and in an attempt to ease her mind, I dragged the corners of my mouth up. “Yes, let’s get back. But we won’t involve Ireas or any other medic. Even though my condition seems bad, don’t forget I’m fae and heal much faster than you would.”

“Then at least take some more Potential to speed up your recovery.”

“Wouldn’t work. Innate traits of my species behave differently than elemental magic.”

Getting to my feet was maybe the biggest success I’d achieved lately. One of my legs was stubbornly uncooperative after the Wailos had treated my thigh like a chew toy. Also, I was quite sure that my hip had at a minimum one splintered bone, and my neck was stiff—but since I’d almost broken my spine, I couldn’t complain.

Blood pounded in my ears, and my head pulsed in painful waves with every beat of my heart. And although the affliction of the rot wasn’t all-encompassing anymore, the magical decay was clinging to some of my open wounds. How fun would it be if I didn’t properly heal until the ball in two days?

The idea sounded tempting, but the gods only knew what Galrach would do to me in that scenario. Also, I’d been in enough situations akin to this one, and with some balm and rest, everything external would be gone by tomorrow. In case of the rotten injuries, a day longer, and only time would tell how long I’d carry the lingering agony with me.

Nayana climbed under my shoulder, huffing in frustration. Oh, did she—

Yes, she wanted to support me. Had she forgotten how tiny she was?

Warm fondness trickled through my chest, and I pretended to lean on her as we slowly made our way back to my quarters.

Knowing her, she’d oppose me on my no-medic decree, but I’d deal with her ire. What counted most was that both of us had survived.

When Dion and I returned to his suite, the prince didn’t even fight against my edict that I’d take care of him and the numerous injuries marring his skin. Whatever the monsters and Galrach had done hadn’t only caused heavy bleeding. No, some wounds showed clear signs of necrosis. Blackened flesh was ringed by angry red, inflamed skin, and dips and valleys were surrounded by pus. Pure willpower alone prevented me from gagging—or worse.