Page 84 of Faeling
She wasn’t enthusiastic about being touched, every part of her feeling like an exposed nerve, but she jerkily nodded.
Moving in closer, Vallek started with her wrist. Holding it so gently in his big hand, she nearly began crying again, she watched as he delicately probed the bones of her wrist. The joint had already swollen and was red, but she agreed with him when he muttered, “I don’t think it’s broken. Not badly, anyway.”
She sat against the cave wall in still silence, tracking him as he assessed her injuries. He filled her vision, lending her just enough calm to begin pushing her magic toward those injuries.
Her father had always warned her about using magic to sustain herself. Healing oneself with it, consuming it rather than food or drink, relying on it rather than sight or hearing—it bred an unhealthy reliance. One the fae had suffered from for centuries. Maxim himself hadn’t realized his unnatural state until he took a humanazai,Aine’s blood helping him return tothe way he always should have been.
“Use it wisely. Just in emergencies,”he’d always counseled her.
If this wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. If she moved in a slightly wrong way, which was any way, the stab of pain in her ribs had her worried she might pass out.
The invisible threads of her magic wrapped round her middle, supporting her as it sank into her skin. The relief was immediate, dulling the pain enough to be bearable.
Marking her little sigh of relief, Vallek’s intense blue gaze flicked up to hers. Then to the collection of jagged scrapes on the left side of her face. She wondered if it looked like she’d been clawed by some wicked beast as much as it felt.
“I have nothing to cleanse the wounds with,” he said, his tone regretful. “I have nothing at all…”
“It’s all right. I’m using my magic.”
His brows rose. “You can do that?”
“To an extent. Never had this bad…” She grimaced. “It would be quicker if I was full fae.”
As it was, it took all her concentration and magic to begin knitting her ribs back together. Her mind shied away from looking too long at the breaks—three ribs were broken. That’s all she needed to know. Her magic would handle the rest.
“Ravenna…” An agonized look passed over his face, and his hand hovered over her, as if he didn’t know where it would be safe to lay it. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”
Fresh tears stung her eyes. A part of her wanted to be angry—what was he thinking, openly treating her like his mate in front of everyone? What did he think Ulrich would do? Just because he was king didn’t mean everyone would agree with him, eventhose closest to him.
But as she watched him, saw the look of desolation in his eyes, Ravenna realized he knew. It was a discovery that cost him in blood and regret, and his shame emanated from him as surely as his body heat. Heavy lines underscored his eyes and bracketed his mouth, and she hated the sight of them.
She was too tired to be truly angry, and, as she sat still while her magic worked, Ravenna couldn’t help feeling that what really mattered was, “You came for me.”
“Always.” Leaning over her, he cupped the side of her head. “I willalwayscome for you.”
Ravenna tried to swallow past her dry throat and only remembered at the last moment not to nod in acknowledgement and irritate her head.
His thumb passed gently over her unbroken cheek, his gaze forlorn as he watched the small movement. “I can’t do much for you like this, but…can I hold you?”
She wanted to say yes, but the idea of being moved filled her with dread.
“I’m told the purring of a mate is soothing. Even healing.”
“All right,” she found herself saying. It was less for herself and more for him.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
His relief was palpable, and he took infinite care lifting her to set on his lap. Propped on her better side against herazai’s chest rather than with her back to the cave was an immediate improvement, and she couldn’t help how she sighed and melted into his warmth.
That purr hummed against her, and fates if it wasn’t soothing. The tension in her shoulders loosened a little, andRavenna’s heavy eyes fluttered shut.
“When were you going to tell me about your wings?” he asked softly.
Never. “Eventually.” She wished she could fold them up against her back as she usually held them, but with one definitely broken, there was nothing for it right now. Her wing had to wait its turn. Until then, she sat exposed, the delicate iridescent purple membranes out for all to see.
His curious gaze weighed as heavily on them as his hand on her knee.
“They’re beautiful, sprite. Why do you hide them?”
