Page 40

Sav

J ack worked long, dexterous fingers in some approximation of magic as he took a reed he’d freed from a pond, and tapped it below Hazel’s rib. He tapped again, harder this time, and the reed punctured skin.

In moments, liquid filled the tube, spilling out onto the ground.

The rattling breaths she’d been struggling to suck in cleared, and she inhaled a deep breath.

Her chest rose and fell and I listened to her slow, even heartbeat.

Her body was in stasis. An unfortunate side effect of our kind when we needed to heal rapidly from a potentially fatal injury.

“We’ll need to carry her and leave the tube inserted in case any more blood fills her lungs.”

I nodded, watching him work. In the past several hours, Jack had proven all the ways I’d been wrong about humans. He was brave, selfless, and competent.

I scanned the surrounding area, finding two sturdy branches and a few broad, flat leaves. “This is the second time I’m making a stretcher in less than a week. Perhaps I should open a business.”

Jack looked up from his patient. “Was that a joke? Did you make a joke, Savage?”

“Savage?”

“Only a savage would choose the moment their friend was gravely injured to make a joke.” He smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “How did I ever let you convince me to come to this hellish place?”

I frowned. “This is my home. I lived here longer than you’ve been alive.”

“So you’re…thirty? Thirty-five?”

I grimaced. “I’m older than your grandfather.

” I speared the final leaf through the pair of branches and dragged the makeshift stretcher over to Jack, glaring at him.

It would have held together better with my thread, but my pack was buried somewhere in the snow and we couldn’t waste time looking for it now.

“Oh,” Jack said, motioning for me to help him lift Hazel onto the leaves. “Your age is a sore subject.”

“It’s none of your business, Jackass.”

His lips split into a wide grin. “Clever.”

“If I’m a savage, then you’re a jackass.” He laughed. Tending to Hazel had loosened his tongue and oddly, I found I liked it. “You enjoy caring for others, don’t you?”

He sobered, glancing down at Hazel as he lifted the two sturdy branches. I moved behind him, hefting the branches at her feet, and we began our march into the Maywood.

When the silence had stretched for some time, my question nearly forgotten, Jack spoke.

“My mom was sick most of my childhood. I was young when her sickness started, but I remember how afraid she was to go to the doctor. She said they didn’t know the first thing about healing.

” He paused, and my gaze caught on his raven curls as they rustled in a soft breeze.

“When I was nine, I asked her why she didn’t take medicine like the other moms who got sick.

She said there wasn’t a medicine out there that would heal what was wrong with her. ”

I rolled my shoulders, shaking out some of the fatigue. Blue jays chirped overhead and the scent of new flowers in bloom invaded my senses. All at once, I was hit with nostalgia for my home, and my vision blurred.

Jack looked over his shoulder at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

I cleared my throat, swallowing down the emotion choking me, and met his gaze.

“We’ve both lost those we loved.” I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t share any more of his story with me.

I didn’t want to know we shared this pain.

I didn’t want to feel anything for him. The sooner we made it to the spring court, the sooner I could make the trade and we could both go back to our separate lives.

Crunching loudly over dried leaves, we stepped onto a well-trodden path and Jack slowed as we reached Ferndell, the small village outside the spring court’s castle.

“We’ll find aid here,” I said as we moved under an arched trellis.

Wooded forest gave way to a row of ground-level treehouses built between massive trunks. In the human realm, they called them townhouses, and I supposed it was an apt name considering this was one of the few towns in my court.

Most low fae preferred to dwell among nature rather than carve a place for themselves from it, but those who worked in the castle and their families had grown accustomed to court life.

Small villages had cropped up over the centuries and the soldiers’ wives and children lived in relative comfort not far from their spouses.

In my youth, I had visited Ferndell many times.

An eerie silence hung over the village and I glanced through dark windows, not spying any movement inside. No smoke from chimneys wafted in the air, and the hairs on my arms rose as we entered the town’s center, setting Hazel down on leaf-strewn cobblestones.

Jack looked at me, brows raised.

I shrugged a shoulder, at a loss. Three years ago, the village had bustled with life.

I couldn’t fathom where everyone had gone.

Circling around the stone table that served as the focal point for feasts and celebrations, I followed the path to Ivy’s door and knocked.

The village healer had mended a scrape or two over the years and there was a pang in my chest. Had she disappeared? Like the others.

Her young boy, Qaden, was only eight when I left.

Too young to be taken by the curse that stole our land and our folk.

Not that anyone deserved whatever fate had befallen them, but children had yet to experience life, to know what it was to wield magic, to dance, to love.

They, least of all, deserved what was happening in Faerie.

I knocked again. “Ivy?”

The silence sent a chill down my spine.

Jack appeared beside me. “Where is everyone?”

I looked up, biting my lip, holding back the emotion threatening to spill out. “Gone.”

Jack’s arms came around me and I stiffened. “Were you close to them?”

For a moment, just a moment, I allowed his warmth to soothe some of the ache.

When the moment had stretched uncomfortably long, I pressed a hand against his chest and wriggled out of his grip. “I wasn’t close to anyone in Faerie.”

His eyes softened in a look of sympathy that made my stomach churn. “Sav.”

My spine straightened at the tenderness in the word. In my long life, kindness and empathy were weapons used to disarm your opponent. I narrowed my gaze on him, tensing in anticipation of his next move. He stood, shoulders rigid, and there was so much affection in his gaze I nearly turned and ran.

The moment stretched, and he didn’t move; didn’t say a word.

Slowly, I released the dagger my fingers had found their way around at my hip, and motioned for him to go before me, unwilling to give him my back. “Come on. There’s a healer at the castle. We need to hurry. For Hazel.”