Camelot's Crow | ✓ [BOOK 3]

~ 19 ~

MORGANA PULLED KIT TO a stop once they were deep enough into the woods to be hidden, even though the prince protested. He wanted to keep going, to find Excalibur and take it back right now, but he hadn't slept in far too long and Morgana could see the concerning sway in his step. No amount of the magic surging through his body would erase the fact that he was tired and hungry and freshly traumatized.

"Only for a couple hours, okay?" Kit said, too weak to argue like he clearly wanted to. The faery didn't reply, allowing to think that his silence was an agreement, though he had no intentions of waking him up before he was fully rested. The wait would be worth it, because a rested Kit was infinitely more useful than a worn out Kit running off of nothing but spite.

He settled him against a tree stump, ripping open his shirt to examine the fresh battlefield on his skin. Morgana gulped and he could feel the angry red guilt in his gut coming back to the surface. He did most of that.

"Whoa, there," Kit said in a teasing voice. It was good to know that no amount of angst or exhaustion would get him to lose his charm, at least. "If you wanted to have make up sex in the middle of the woods, you could've just said it."

Morgana thumped his head, earning a dramatic cry, but a smile still lingered on his face that he couldn't force away. Flirting was a good sign. Kit would be alright.

"That's not what I'm doing, Kit, but don't threaten me with a good time." Morgana winked, though his playful mood sobered when he traced his fingers gently over the bruises on his side. They were large and ugly, a sign of something worse beneath the surface.

He pulled off a leather strap from his light armor, sticking it into Kit's mouth so he wouldn't shatter his own teeth, then tried to warn him of the pain to come with his eyes. When Kit nodded in understanding, Morgana prepared himself and went to work.

Magic hummed in his fingertips, and he started small, taking away the bruises and healing the cuts into scars. Kit was doing well so far, but he'd only healed the least of his wounds. The next ones would be more painful.

"Remember to breathe," he said gently, then let his hand return to his side. Kit took a deep breath and Morgana accepted it as his sign to go on.

As quickly but as gently as he could, he pulled the broken ribs back into place with a disturbing chorus of sickening cracks and pops. He clenched his jaw when Kit cried out, muffled as he bit down on the leather. Now would be the worst time to stop, so he kept going, trying to block out the screams and failing.

"Morgana, stop, stop, please," he begged as the faery finished up the worst of it, letting the leather fall out of his mouth.

He stopped, watching him with an aching expression. His chest was dewy with sweat and his face was red, and Morgana looked down at his hands. He caused this, and now all he could do was continue to hurt Kit, even when he was trying to fix things.

A warm hand slid over his jaw, urging him to look up at the prince's face. "Hey," he whispered. "Thank you. Really. It hurts like a bitch, but I appreciate it. I just need a second."

Morgana's throat bobbed. "I understand," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

For once, Kit didn't try to stop him, he didn't cut him off or scold him like he normally would. Instead, he brought their foreheads together, taking a deep breath, and didn't pull away until he'd kissed both of his eyelids and the sharp bridge of his nose. "Okay."

"Okay."

They separated again and Kit put the strap back into his mouth, biting down as Morgana searched his body again with his hands. Normally, it would've tempted him to do something more, but he wasn't feeling that inconsiderate twist in his gut right now. All he felt was the pain radiating from Kit's body. He sealed hairline fractures in his bones, turned the cuts on his legs and arms into faded scars, and returned the bones of his wrists and fingers back to where they belonged.