Page 48 of A Court of Masks and Roses
I try to pull away.
Trace holds fast. “Understand?” he demands again.
Strength drains from my limbs. My eyes sting. I hate them for it. And I hate Trace for seeing the glimmer of tears. “They shattered my legs.”
“I know.”
“If I live—” The strangled words escape my throat, and I read the answer in his eyes before even asking the question. “Even if I live, will I walk?”
Trace looks down.
I nod, my hands gripping the dirt, letting it press beneath my fingernails. A single tear slides from the corner of my right eye, slithering down my cheek.
Trace tightens his jaw, as if determination heals bones. “You’ll walk,” he whispers.
“Ah.” My voice is flat and so lifeless it frightens me. “The power of hope.”
“No. There... Hope isn’t going to suffice. Not with this damage. Healing magic may work, though.” He sighs and sits back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose as he studies my body. “I’ve just never tried something this complex before.”
“Feel at liberty to start making sense anytime now,” I say after a few minutes of silence. “Trace? Trace.”
He startles free of his thoughts. “Do you remember anything after I found you?”
I dig through my memories, careful not to stray too deep. “My name being called. A blaze of searing pain. That’s it. Probably when you set the bones. Or my shoulders.”
“No. That pain was me stopping the worst of the bleeding.” His gaze finds mine. “Do you remember what your sister said about the magic in healing crystals? How potent it is, how it penetrates through the crystal’s walls and into the body? That pain you felt, that was healing magic.”
I’ve the oddest experience of hearing and understanding each word without grasping the meaning of their combination. The way Trace is talking, it’s as if...
He nods. “Yes, I’m a whisperer. A trained healer.”
I move my mouth, but it takes a moment to make sounds come out. “But we’ve no healers in Dansil,” I say stupidly.
He gives me a hard look. “There are a lot of people in Dansil you think don’t exist.”
I close my eyes, my mind racing as I try to put the pieces together. “When you asked Leaf about using the healing stone... you were really checking to ensure she knew its dangers.”
“Yes.” Trace sighs, his fingers brushing my forehead again. “Look at me, Kal. What I did earlier, that was rudimentary. Tomend the bones properly is... It’s the difference between painting a fence and a portrait. I can’t promise I’ll succeed, but I can promise to try if you want me to. It will hurt, though. Very much.”
I nod, a small bud of hope blooming in my chest. Of course I want him to try. I set aside my roiling thoughts and questions for later—walking comes first.
Unbuttoning the top of his shirt, Trace removes the thong holding the blue healing crystal and wraps the leather around his hands. The small crystal appears to be in tune, with the magical tufts already woven together in its center. Probably from the previous healing Trace performed on me.
“How...” I massage my words, trying not to sound like the coward I suddenly feel. “How will this work exactly?”
“I will press the crystal between my hand and your body.” Trace uses his teeth to tighten the last of the knots that secure the stone to his palm. He nudges down the cloak covering my body and probes the space just below my right collarbone, the touch expertly professional. “There is a plexus of energy pathways here, which the magic will enter through. The healing crystal will connect our bodies, letting me wield its magic against your injuries.”
“All right,” I say, though it’s anything but that.
“The magic will flow but I’ll stay right here.” Trace offers a hint of a smile. “No needles, though. That’s something, right?”
I try to nod, but my bravery is failing more with each heartbeat.
“Just keep breathing,” Trace tells me as his hand finds my chest again and his eyes take on the glazed look of concentration I’ve so often seen on Leaf’s face. Stinging bees swarm into my blood. I gasp and it’s all I can do to keep from pulling away. Trace’s face hardens. “Both femurs are intact,” he says through clenched teeth. “But the lower legs... I think I can work with them.” His words are strained.
“Are you...” My breath catches as I realize what’s happening. “You are feeling what I feel. The wounds. Their pain.”
He nods roughly.
