Page 167 of Veinblood
Another thud. Slow and strained, but there.
“He’s alive.” The words echo around the cavern, my voice breaking with relief so intense it makes me dizzy. “He’s unconscious, but he’s alive.”
Hope threads through the grief still flowing through our bond, and I lift my head to glance over at Sacha. He hasn’t moved from his vigil over Sereven, but his head has lifted slightly.
I place both palms on Varam’s chest, and open myself up to the power that flows through me. It moves differently now, easier. Warmth spreads from my hands and into his chest. Closing my eyes, I let the power show me how he’s hurt, and the image builds with intimate, terrible clarity.
Three ribs are snapped clean through. Burns cover his arms and chest. Internal bleeding where organs shifted when he hit the wall. Swelling around his brain that could steal away everything that makes him who he is. The damage is extensive, worse than it looks from the outside, and repairing it is going to cost me.
But I don’t even hesitate.
This is Varam. A man who welcomed me to Ravencross without question, who protected me after River Crossing, whosupported me when we thought Sacha had been lost. A man who loves Sacha the way a brother should.
And Sacha loves him.
How could I not try and heal him?
I pour everything I am into the healing, coaxing bone to remember its proper shape, and encouraging torn vessels to seal themselves. I draw fluid away from delicate tissue where thoughts and memories live, and reknit skin that has blistered and burned.
Each injury I repair takes energy from me, leaving me exhausted and shaking, but I don’t stop.
Ican’tstop.
Because this is Varam. Sacha’s closest friend. The man who waited almost three decades for his return.
My vision blurs at the edges. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill in the air. My hands shake with exhaustion that reaches deeper than muscle and bone. But color returns to Varam’s ashen face. His breathing deepens from shallow barely-there breaths to the steady rhythm of natural sleep.
When I finally lift my hands and sag beside him, the cavern seems to spin around him. I brace one palm against the ground to keep from collapsing completely.
Varam’s eyelids flutter, then open. Confusion clouds his expression as he tries to reconcile his last memory with his current position.
“What happened?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Sacha beats me to it.
“He’s dead.” His voice carries no emotion at all.
Varam turns his head carefully in the direction of Sacha’s voice, taking in the scene across the cavern. His eyes move from Sacha kneeling beside Sereven to the sword still protruding from his chest. Sacha turns toward him, and the emptiness in his face makes me catch my breath.
“I’m sorry it had to be you.” Varam’s voice is soft. “I would have taken that burden from you if I could.”
His words accomplish what nothing else could. Sacha’s carefully held composure cracks down the middle. His shoulders shake, a spasm of pain so acute I feel it through the bond. And then it softens. The grief doesn’t disappear completely, but it settles, becoming easier to manage.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds more like the Sacha I know.
“The others are still fighting above us. We need to leave here.”
He stands slowly, then reaches out and grasps the hilt of his sword. The blade slides free with a wet sound that seems to fill the entire cavern. Blood drips from the steel onto the stone.
“Leave the body here. He deserves this as his tomb.” Mira’s voice is hard, stopping Sacha as he stoops toward Sereven’s corpse.
“I am not leaving him in this place.” The words emerge flat and final. “I will not leave either of them.”
Mira looks like she wants to argue, but stays silent at Varam’s headshake. He tries to stand, dragging himself up the wall until he’s upright, and then sways dangerously. I catchhis arm before he falls, but in my own weakened state, all I accomplish is nearly sending us both crashing to the ground.
Mira spears me with a look that freezes me in place, and she limps over to drape Varam’s arm across her shoulders.
“I can walk,” he insists.
