Page 89 of Faeling
“You’re missing a shoe, love,” he told her gently.
Oh. That’s right.
It wasn’t that she disliked being carried—it just felt awkward being the only one not standing in a group of big, burly orcs. Like she was little. Fragile. She contented herself that there would be time yet to seem big and strong before them. For now, it was all right that her strongazaicarried her.
Fenna was exceedingly gentle, softly explaining what she meant to do before doing it. After a few pokes and prods, she declared Ravenna’s wrist badly sprained but not broken. She marveled at how far along her ribs were in healing, pleased with their progress. “Now that’s a useful trick.” Winking, she moved on to the wing.
Ravenna gritted her teeth, forcing her wings to stay still. She hated how everyone looked at them, eyes wide with interest. Fenna was at least extremely careful, touching the wing as little as possible while she inspected the break.
“Never worked on a wing like this before. You suppose it’s similar to a bird’s wing?”
She swallowed hard. “Somewhat. The bone is hollow like a bird’s. But there’s one more joint.”
“Fascinating!” Fenna leaned in closer. “And they fold up along your back otherwise?”
“Yes.”
“Like a beetle. Will wonders never cease.”
Ravenna chewed her cheek, not loving the comparison but unable to argue with it, either.
Pulling a little stoppered bottle from the small pack belted round her waist, Fenna handed it to her. “For the pain.”
She sniffed the contents, catching notes of willow bark and poppy milk. She took the barest sip, not wanting to be too foggy—and knowing it was likely mixed with orcs twice her size in mind.
“All right, one, two, three—”
The flash of pain burst brightly across all Ravenna’s senses, her body contracting in Vallek’s arms. He held her fast, a frantic note to his purr, as she shuddered and groaned through the burning pain.
The worst of it was over within a few moments, the bone reset, and her magic flowed down from her chest to her wing to take over the healing. Still, she was left with an aching pain all along her back.
“One more sip, dearie. At least to get you back to camp.”
She did before stoppering the bottle and handing it back.
“Very good. How’re you feeling now?”
“I’ll live.”
Fenna smiled. “Excellent. Just what I like to hear.”
A reluctant grin touched Ravenna’s lips.
“Thank you, Fenna,” said Vallek.
“It’s an honor, my king.” She squinted up at him, shrewd eyes searching him for injury. “You don’t look too badly off.”
“Hormhím took the worst of it.”
Nodding in approval, the healer assessed Ravenna once more before declaring that she was stable enough to travel back to camp.
In the time Fenna attended to her, the warriors had secured Ulrich’s remains, and so, as the sun rose over the gorge, they set out.
Between her tiredness, the poppy milk, and her own magic, Ravenna floated in her mate’s arms, barely feeling the sway of his gait. Resting her head on his shoulder, she let herself be carried along, worries left behind in that shallow cave.
The worries found her again by the time they reached camp. It took several hours of walking and a precarious climb up the cliff face—split between natural outcroppings and a series of ropes—to finally reach the column. Vallek, Ravenna, Fenna, and a few warriors went on ahead as Mattias and the rest hoisted up Ulrich’s body.
Her heart had only just returned to a normal pace after the terror of scaling the cliff—or, rather, clinging to Vallek as he scaled it—when the column came into view. They were soonnoticed, and a great cheer went up from the orcs, relieved to see their king.
