Page 111 of The Witch Queen

Another wave of pure agony washes over me, and I lose my battle to stay upright, dropping to the ground. Krantz uses the slip to advance toward me, and that’s a mistake. I watch as all reason leaves Laurel’s eyes and the only thing that remains is a terrifyingly powerful female whose mate is threatened. With an unholy snarl from Laurel, Krantz and everyone around him freeze, unable to move.Laurel’s magic. She’s stopped the aether from coursing through them, rendering them completely immobile. Fionn’s and Silene’s eyes go wide, unaware of the true depth and nature of her power. But I know, and I also know how much she fears the impact using this much aether will have on the magic of Thayaria. It’s a testament to how lost in the mating bond she is that she’s willing to risk exposure and her kingdom’s magical stability.

She aersteps to me and drops to my side, taking my hand in hers as she helps me stand, eyes completely black with rage once again. She scans every inch of my body, taking in each wound and the scent of my blood. With a deep inhale, her eyes blow out further, and she hisses.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “Let’s get Fionn and Silene and get out of here.” My words ease the edge of her wrath, bringing a semblance of logic back to her. She nods, thank the aether, and I feel the tingle of magic along my spine that tells me we’re about to aerstep.

Suddenly, Krantz breaks through Laurel’s hold. It’s impossible, and yet, he seems as sure of himself as ever. Laurel freezes, but only for a moment before she’s up again and stalking toward him. She smirks at Krantz, but then her face falls. True fear enters her eyes, and I don’t understand what’s happening, but I can’t focus with the waves of pain that continue to wash over me. I drop to the ground once more, vision blurring. I catch a look of pure glee on Krantz’s face as Laurel backs slowly away from him. His eyes make a quick calculation, darting around the glade, and before either of us can react, every fae surrounding us has disappeared, Silene and Fionn included. I vaguely hear Laurel’s cries of desperation and rancor before I lose consciousness, the pain from the wound finally overtaking me.

Laurel

It is said that blood mages can create potions and spells for other magic users, though this has never been confirmed. Whether this is because it is not true, or because blood mages are so infrequently willing to share their magic, this scholar cannot say.

Blood Magic Through the Ages

“Guards, guards!” I scream in panic as we arrive in my rooms. Thorne is dead weight, and it takes all my strength to slowly lower his large body to the ground without hurting him or myself. His blood covers us both, the scent tinged with the acidic rancor of iron. The two guards Thorne insisted I keep at my door rush in and look upon the bloody scene before them, eyes wide with confusion and fear. I’m grateful for their presence at this moment, even though it had annoyed me to no end when Thorne had declared I must have guards for my rooms. “Get me Admon and your Lieutenant Captain,” I order with my aether-voice.

They pale, though one of them breaks through the order long enough to say, “What about Captain Carex, Your Majesty?” I snarl, and they look terrified, but I don’t care. Not right now.

“Carex should be considered a traitor to the crown. He’s not to be informed of our arrival,” I hiss with the aether-voice again. He’s the only person who could have betrayed our secret to the rebels, the only person other than Admon who knew of the mating bond, and I trust Admon implicitly. I will not risk Carex gaining any additional information.

The guards nod and leave, eyes glassy with the compulsion of the aether-voice. I turn my attention back to Thorne. Lunaria appears at my side, nuzzling my thigh before considering Thorne. Her yellow eyes study him while she sniffs his wounds, hissing at whatever she smells. Her reaction only makes the terror I’m barely holding at bay seep out of the walls I keep firmly in place around it. My breaths come in deep pants as I try and fail to heal his wounds with every magic available to me. Soothing water, warm light, and medicinal plants gently cover his wounds to no avail. Sobs wrack my body, but I keep going, hurling every bit of magic I can at my mate, despite feeling the shakiness of burnout quickly approaching. I lost all sense of self in that fight, completely at the whims of the mating bond, and thus did nothing to conserve my power.

Lunaria pads to the wine shelf and yowls loudly. I look on in confusion as she paces back and forth in front of it, clearly trying to tell me something. Before I can determine what she means, there’s a knock at the door, and I yell for whoever it is to come in, hoping it’s Admon. The only Thayarian I truly trust anymore opens the door and his face goes white. Admon quickly walks toward Thorne and me and Lunaria hisses at him before she disappears.

“What happened?” he asks, voice filled with concern.

“The rebels. They attacked the festival. We went after them, but they got away. I only managed to get Thorne and me out. He was hit with three iron arrows,” I explain, breathless and fearful.

“What about Fionn and Silene?”

Grief wraps around me like a blanket. “The rebels took them,” I whisper, tears running down my cheeks. I wipe them away. “Can you help me heal Thorne faster? He and I can go after Silene and Fionn, but we have to heal him first. I can’t—I need him.” The last words come out a whimper, and were they in front of anyone but Admon, I would cringe with the vulnerability I’ve displayed. But Admon has been by my side through so many tragedies, has provided the comfort of a parent even as I grieved the death of my own mother and father.

Admon looks at Thorne’s wounds, then shakes his head. “I’m afraid these wounds are beyond my abilities. Nemesia may be able to help, but it would take several days of being removed from the iron influence for her to recover the strength. Thornewillrecover, it will just take some time. Remove the iron still buried in his wounds, then set him up with the palace healers.”

I stand and pace back and forth across the room, a frustrated cry rolling from my dry throat. We don’t havetime. I need to go after Silene and Fionnnow,but I don’t want to do it without Thorne by my side. It’s a testament to how deeply he’s carved into my very being, that rather than rushing off to fight the battle alone, I pause so that I can bring him with me. I give him one more look before resigning myself to doing it alone, letting out a deep sigh.

Despite Admon’s presence, Lunaria returns, pawing at the wine rack. It finally dawns on me what she’s been trying to tell me. “You brilliant creature,” I murmur, rubbing her head. Admon looks on, an emotion in his eyes I can’t place.

I take the now opened bottle of thayar concentrate from the rack, pouring two small measures. Crouching next to Thorne, I dump the contents of one down his throat, then close his mouth and hold his nose to force him to swallow. He begins to glow. Taking a deep breath, I pull a dagger from my side and dig into the wound at his side to remove the arrowhead still lodged there. His body reacts to the pain by clenching and sweating, but he doesn’t make a sound. That silence forces me to move faster.You will not lose him.Hands covered in his blood, I rip the arrowhead out of his thigh. Then I gently lift him on his side to pull the arrowhead from the wounds in his back and shoulder. As I lay him back down, his body glows brighter, and I can tell that the light wants to heal him but can’t break through the poison of the iron.

I look at the second dose of thayar concentrate, pausing for a moment to evaluate whether this is a good idea. Who knows how much aether I’ll channel with thayar concentrate coursing through my veins, but it’s a risk I must take to save my mate. Admon understands what I plan to do.

“Your Majesty, are you sure this is wise? Have you ever taken thayar concentrate before? Do you know how it will impact your power?”

“Nope,” I say with a forced irreverence that would make Thorne proud. And before Admon can convince me not to, I down the concentrate.

My body heats from the inside out, and I can feel myself sparking with energy. The light in the room becomes blinding, forcing Admon to shield his eyes, and I realize it’s because I’m glowing so brilliantly. Power like I’ve never experienced slams through my body, knocking me flat on my face. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to exercise the control I’ve honed over centuries. Though it’s difficult, I wrestle the aether pulsing through me into my firm grasp, then focus my attention on Thorne. A thread connects his body to mine, so clear with this boost in magic that a sob of relief pushes against my throat. As long as he’s tethered to me, I know he’ll live.

I place my hand over the wound on his thigh, and I swear the blood that coats my hands—Thorne’s blood—shimmers, but I don’t stop to consider what it could mean. I surround the wound with the strongest water, light, and plant healing magic I know how to conjure, somehow also knowing through some deeply seeded knowledge that I can coax his own light to follow my command to heal him. I pump aether into him, praying the extra power I gave him with his own dose of concentrate will also aid in quick healing. Skin slowly stitches itself back together, and I cry out in joy. Then I flip him over and heal the wounds in his shoulder and back, repeating the process of gathering as much aether as I can and guiding it into him through every conduit available to me. When I lay him back down, color has returned to his face, and the fevered sweat that dotted his brow is gone.

Slowly, Thorne opens his eyes, though he has to immediately close them again. “You’re glowing like a star, witchling,” he rasps out, and I huff out a small chuckle, not quite ready to laugh at his usual quips until I know for sure that he is okay.

“Look down at yourself, princeling,” I murmur. His eyes widen at his own ethereal glow as he lifts his hand and turns it over to observe the effect. He closes his eyes again, slumping from the exertion of raising his arm. Even though I know it will take him more than a few minutes to fully recover, panic rises to my throat, but I push it down. With a deep breath, Thorne’s brows furrow in concentration for a moment before the light making him glow winks out.

“What happened?” he asks, and my heart breaks. I don’t want to recount the last several hours, don’t want to admit I’m the reason his best friends aren’t with us.

“The rebels attacked us at the festival,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I remember all of that. What happened to make me glow and you shine like a fucking sun?”

---