Page 101 of The Chains You Defy

How could he heal this? Large parts of his exposed flesh were beyond rescue by human standards. One of his thighs was missing a good chunk of muscle—no, seeing had to be enough; thinking about the damage went too far.

And smelling. The stench wafting from Dion was vile and rotten, almost corpse-like. And after he’d collapsed on his bed, I checked his vitals in panic more than once because he was unresponsive.

A persistent voice in my head yelled at me to fetch Ireas, although this was against the prince’s wishes. Our friend was a medic, after all.

But I simply couldn’t leave Dion alone. Not in this state.

I was utterly out of my depth, but doing nothing would drive me insane even faster, so Idashed to the bag I’d brought from Ivreia, rummaged for the little container holding the balm Ireas had given me for my various cuts and bruises, and although I didn’t believe one bit that the medication was potent enough to be of any help, at least applying the minty mixture shouldn’t worsen the fae’s condition. Hopefully.

In record time, I raced to the bathing chamber, washed my hands twice, and returned to Dion.

Was I mistaken, or had his pulse gotten stronger?

Gods, please, this couldn’t be just wishful thinking.

Unscrewing the lid of the container and dipping my finger into the cool balm, I gathered my composure. I took a tiny dot out and smeared the cream under my nose, hoping the clean scent would at least battle the rotten stench a little.

My fingers twitched at the thought of touching the blackened, bleeding mess all over Dion’s body, but I scolded myself. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I cautiously cleared the tatters of his tunic from his back and, as soft as a breeze, spread the mixture over his skin.

To my astonishment, the gashes that didn’t show signs of necrosis were already closing themselves in front of my eyes—undoubtedly, this was thanks to the speedy self-healing fae possessed—so I concentrated on the wounds that didn’t seem to recover on their own. And most likely wouldn’t. Oh, shut up, pessimist Nayana Garnet Ortha.

Another one of those groans full of pain and misery filled the room, and I yanked my hand back as if I’d burned myself. “I’m sorry, Dion. But I—I have no idea howelse to help you.”

Out of focus, dull amethyst eyes met mine. “Just…go on. It’s not…the first time.”

Hesitating still, my heart clenched at the sight of this normally so proud male broken and in agony, and I wondered who usually took care of him after such an episode. Knowing him, he didn’t allow anyone to witness his pitiful state, not even a healer or medic. If he didn’t want Ireas to tend to him, he wouldn’t accept anyone’s aid, and not even I could sway him.

My question was answered much faster than anticipated as my inky tendril unfurled half of its length and dipped its tip into the container, gathering some balm.

“Shush.” I glowered at the pesky strand, swatting it away, and took the substance off with my own hand, spreading the remedy cautiously once more. The magical construct didn’t seem fazed as it curled back around me.

“We have to turn you to the other side.”

“Yes.”

My heart splintered into a million pieces at his pained voice and then some more when we painstakingly and slowly moved him onto his back.

“You know…if I’d guessed…that all it takes for you to put your hands on me is to be wounded, I would have jumped in harm’s way much earlier.”

“Ha, hilarious, princeling. Be quiet.” A giant boulder fell from my chest as Dion joked. Although he sounded weak and mangled, he was at least lucid enough not only to talk but also to try to be funny.

“I’ll mend soon.”

“I hope so.”

“It’s not the first time, Naya.”

“That doesn’t make anything better.” My jaw locked.

How could the High King treat his grandson so horribly? And why would Dion allow him again and again?

The urge to push him for answers was strong, but the lines on his face whenever I came into contact with his skin stopped me. Recovering was most important, planning for the future could wait.

“Again, at the latest, the day after tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. I’m healing fast, even when Galrach uses his magic like today.”

“So that’s why some of your wounds look worse, and some have already vanished?”

“Yes. He has some shrewd facets for an earth Wielder. Withering alive and dead matter. And his magic is powerful. His talent’s only problem, in his eyes, is that the effects are strongest on single targets.”