Page 74 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“Which arrow do you want me to take out first?” Flynn asks, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
Right, two arrows are protruding from my body.Despite my best attempts to keep calm, I can’t stop the racing of my heart. “Surprise me.” I try to joke, but the tremble in my voice gives away my true feelings.
The hand holding my shining magic starts to shake as well, causing the light to bounce everywhere but where Flynn needs it. His entire body eases when his gaze meets mine, like an exhale that’s finally been released after being held for too long. He shifts up towards my chest, so I assume that means he’s going with the shoulder arrow first. But he leans down instead, his nose grazing mine as his hair tickles my forehead.
“Do you remember what I said to you yesterday?” he asks, one hand coming to cup the side of my face while the other lazily slides up and down my back.
“Yes,” I whisper, my body locking up tightly in anticipation.
“Tell me. Tell me what I said,” he commands. And even though I know he’s just trying to distract me, and I have enough fear running through my veins to drown me, I can’t deny him.
“You said,” I start, my voice quivering as he slides his hand slowly up again, “that you couldn’t wait until we were safe.” That hand pauses somewhere on my upper back, though where exactly I can’t tell since my wound pulsates waves of pain across its entirety.
“And then what did I say?” His voice is guttural, the roughness drawing all of my attention. “I want to hear you say every single word.” I watch his eyes dart over to my shoulder for a second before returning to mine. The dark depths of them call to me, luring me into them like a fish to water.
“You said you couldn’t wait to explore every part of me,” I rasp, feeling a sudden pressure surrounding the entry point at my shoulder. “And I said that I wanted that too.”
“I can’t fucking wait,” he chokes out, his voice a subdued declaration. “Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, hearing metal scrape against leather before a quick and searing flash of pain erupts on my chest. I hear the sound of wood breaking before Ifeelthe arrow moving through me. My eyes shoot open, and I look down at the metal tip fully protruding from my front now, blood leaking across my chest and dripping onto the ground. A scream rips from my throat as I force my eyes to close again. I feel Flynn’s hand move to where the tip of the arrow is, and with a jerk, the pressure of it being inside of me is removed.
“It’s out,” he says, his lips finding my forehead as I force air into my lungs and let hot tears leak down my cheeks. “We need to clean it to prevent infection before you heal yourself.”
“I have soap in the satchel you’re carrying,” I grit out between ragged breaths. I hear him shuffle around in one of the bags, tearing a piece of fabric, before he steps up to the stream behind me. Within a few seconds he’s back at my side, carefully dabbing a cold, wet cloth around the wound on my shoulder. I hiss at the contact, curling in on myself a little as he lightly wipes at my skin.
“Okay, call your magic up.”
I release my hold on the magic, trusting that it will do what it needs to. I’m exhausted already, my head feeling dizzy and my eyelids heavy. I hear Flynn move back to the water before coming back into view and kneeling at my legs.
“Rhea, this one…” He trails off, a hand bracketing either side of the arrow sticking out of my thigh. “It’s more complex—going through more muscle and maybe even hitting the bone. I’ll have to try and reopen the wound so that the arrowhead doesn’t shred your leg.”
I swallow down the bile creeping up my throat. My magic, in trying to save me from losing too much blood, ended up damning me. I wonder if this is payback for not using it all those times it begged to be let out. I nearly snort at the thought. My breathing picks up again even though the pain in my shoulder has finally eased and is replaced with just a mild tenderness. I twist my upper body until my back is flush against the ground with my hips still stacked on top of each other. My lungs struggle to take enough air in, my mind whirling and vision swirling. The hand that’s supposed to be providing light just grabs onto Flynn’s leg.
“Flynn,” I whisper, my voice drawing his eyes from my leg to my face, “I can’t do this.”
“Sunshine.” He leans down, clearing the hair from my face and planting a soft kiss on my lips. “You can. You’re so strong, despite what he’s tried to mold you into. Despite everything, you’re so incredibly fierce,” he says each word while kissing the tip of my nose. “And so fucking beautiful.”
I cough out a laugh, my wet lashes blinking away a few more tears as, despite it all, I find myself offering a small smile. Flynn gives me one final kiss and then kneels down by my thighs again. My eyes find the moon; it’s nearly full with the Summer Solstice happening in just a few days. Bella moves closer to me, one of her massive paws laying gently on my uninjured shoulder. I know it must be my exhaustion and blood loss, but a part of me swears the moon pulsates in time with my heart. The stars wave their hello as well, bringing me comfort. It makes me feel braver. That cold curled up inside of me perks up for just a moment, but then it dies back down.
“Do it, Flynn.” I breathe as he nods, brandishing a small dagger. My hand reaches up to grip Bella’s paw while I keep my gaze on the sky above me and exhale slowly.
“Do you want to know why your nickname is ‘Sunshine’?” he asks, but before I can respond, pain bursts to life in my thigh—unbridled and unrelenting. I cry out, the sound echoing out into the forest. I squeeze Bella’s paw and try to steady my other hand as my magic flares brighter in my palm. My mouth gapes open as I try to gulp in air, my body begging me to breathe, but the pain is too piercing. I lift my head to look, but Flynn stops me.
“Don’t look.” He glances at me, his eyes focused and unyielding, and I wonder if this is hard for him to do. To be the one that is causing me pain like this. I also know that the arrow isn’t out yet. My own eyes blur, my breaths moving quickly in and out through my mouth. Warm blood leaks down my leg, and I have the delirious thought that this entire outfit is totally ruined. Then I remember Flynn’s question.
“Why did you pick ‘Sunshine’?” The words are slurred through my sobs, and I don’t know if he can even understand them. In my incoherence, I see the moon glow imperceptibly brighter right as Flynn begins to speak. Unfortunately, he also begins tomovethe arrow, and I don’t hear a single thing he says before I pass out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Bahira
Thesunpoursinthrough the windows of my room and blinds me where I lay on my bed, my head pounding from the alcohol consumed the night before. A bottle lays on the green and gold ornate rug, the smell of hard liquor permeating the air—my stomach roils in response. Huffing out a breath, I roll slowly onto my back, a forearm resting over my eyes.
This is a new feeling for me. Well, that’s not exactly true. The feeling of being a failure—of not amounting to anything—has simmered beneath the surface of my false bravado for a little while now. Each failed experiment and derogatory comment only added fuel to the fire that I tried desperately to keep extinguished. Today however, it burns brightly within me, creating a warmth that sends bile up my throat and trepidation through my body. Or maybe that is the alcohol trying to escape. Despite not wanting to reminisce at all about magic or experiments or journals, my brain has always worked too scientifically—too logically. Even half drowned in inebriation, it’s still trying to sort through any data that can be gained from my latest failure.You could try—
“No,” I respond to myself, halting the train of thought.
Another rush of nausea barrels through me, and I bolt from the bed, running to the bathroom and kneeling before the toilet just in time. I gather as much of my thick hair back as I can, vomiting so hard that I begin to see stars from the force of it. When the urge to expel my insides finally dies down, I collapse onto the cold stone of the floor. Tears already leak from my eyes, but I can’t be sure if it’s from being sick or if it’s because of the crushing weight of defeat sitting on top of me. Squeezing them shut, I focus on my breathing to try and stop the swirling thoughts of “what if” and “what about.”It doesn’t matter anymore.
A gentle knock sounds on my door, as if the person somehow knows that my skull feels as though it might crack if the noise is any louder.
