Healer

Chapter 9

     Feyre sat on the sofa in Azriel's room, legs crossed, arms folded. Watching. Watching oh so carefully for every breath, for a hint of movement. And waiting, waiting for her mate to return, triumphant at last, his companions in tow, finally able to say he had saved his brother yet again. They had all been horrified at what had happened to Azriel. After centuries of battles, wars, curses, trials, the males seemed invincible. Truly immortal. This event had stared them in the face and told them they were not. And besides the pang of immortality, it brought them sadness. They loved each other. The night court was a family, all of them, herself included, but Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel had been there first. They were the original family, and for much of their lives, they had only had each other. Unable to keep still for long, she went and stood by the bed. She loved him too, like a brother. He had taught her to fly, he had come to her rescue and to her sister's and her mate's time and time again. He was loyal and he was good. He didn't deserve this. And the healer, she had given everything she had to save him. Anyone who thought otherwise she would consider blind. Feyre was a little unnerved by the young female, to be honest. She was humble, calm, and she seemed genuinely unaware of how powerful she was. Feyre had never seen anything like what she had witnessed tonight. If it had truly worked and they saved Azriel, and the healer lived, too, then she hoped Rhysand would ask her to stay in Velaris. Besides being an asset to her city, Feyre feared that in the rest of the world she would not be appreciated and instead enslaved once again. Rhysand had shown her what had happened that morning, the monster inside of the male before her that had nearly killed Talia. Two things resounded with Feyre once she saw it. That Azriel would be sick at knowing he had done that, and that the healer had literally run back to his side, her concern for him outweighing her fear at what had taken place. That kind of action could not be faked. Even Cassian had realized that in the moment. After a few moments, as she stood and looked at him, laying stone still on the bed, she began to notice a change. It was subtle at first, but it was what they had all been waiting on, what they had dared not hope for. Color began to bloom high on his cheekbones and spread across his face. She lifted his sleeve and watched as the black veins wrapping his arm began to retract and eventually disappear. His breathing remained steady. They had done it. It had only been a couple of hours since they left, but they had done it. They had found and destroyed the items. She wrung her hands and paced, waiting for them to appear in the room, every second bringing her heart closer to her throat. She only had to wait a few minutes more before they appeared. Cassian had a tight hold of Nesta and Rhysand was cradling Talia's lifeless body in his arms. Feyre didn't move.

"Is she....?" She asked quietly.

Rhysand walked over, lying her gently on the sofa. "She's alive." He turned to Feyre and she laid a hand on his chest. "She found the items and we destroyed them. We had been discovered by then but we were able to run. They know we succeeded."

"And?"

"And Talia lost consciousness before we could find the items, but she had us in the right direction. She...." He looked down at her. "I'm not sure. It's like she's sleeping." Feyre gently moved him out of the way and he turned to check on Azriel as she knelt beside the healer. With what little healing power she had, she could tell that Talia's vitals were normal and that her body was working to overcome the exhaustion of what she had been through and recover from the hours that the Hex was in her body. Satisfied that she was stable, Feyre stood and faced the others. Nesta and Cassian stood together across the bed from Rhysand. Feyre tucked herself under his arm.

"What now?" Cassian asked.

Rhysand shrugged. "I guess we wait and see." No one argued.

After a few minutes, Rhysand carried Talia to her room and laid her gently in her bed, Feyre, and Nesta close behind him. The females had agreed to care for the healer until she awoke while Rhysand stayed with Azriel. Cassian had left to speak to his commanders and make sure their borders were fully secured, asking for extra eyes and swords along the coast. They all had this strange sense of boredom, with nothing to do but sit and wait for something to happen. They were sure they had succeeded, that it was over, but there was still that nagging question, what if they never awoke? What if they had been too late? Hours passed and then the night. By morning, there had been no change in either of them and the others milled around the house without saying or doing much at all, partially out of relief and partially out of careful anticipation. Late in the afternoon, Feyre had gone to check on Talia before Nesta came in from training and took her place. Sun was still streaming in through her windows but the air outside had cooled. The healer looked relaxed, even peaceful as though she hadn't just performed a spell that nearly killed her and successfully saved Azriel when even her high lord could not. Feyre studied Talia's face. Her and the girl were roughly the same age, both of them had been abused by both the human and fae worlds at some point and ended up safe in Velaris. A painting formed in her mind, a healer unsure of how to heal herself. Feyre knew that Talia had found some purpose in the healing of Azriel but what would she find after that? She turned quietly and left. In the time between Feyre leaving and Nesta coming in to check on her, Talia woke. She had been swimming and swimming and swimming up through the darkness in her mind, fighting to escape the cage of horrors where she had been locked with the shadowsinger. Finally, she breached the surface. She could hear the sounds of her room in the house of wind, the curtains stirring in a slight breeze. She opened her eyes. She felt them open, anyway, stretched wide, but all she saw was blackness. She blinked. Nothing. She raised her arms, her sore, tired arms, and placed her hands over her eyes, she opened and shut them again, feeling her lashes brush against her palms. Her heart racing, she clenched her eyes shut, recalling the memory of the forest in Hybern, laying on the ground, facing up, her sight completely gone. Her hands fell back to the blankets and she grabbed at them, trying to calm herself. Could she be permanently blind? She took deep breaths, steadying herself so she could check her eyes herself. Maybe it was something that could be fixed. She realized slowly that waking up here, in Velaris, must mean they had succeeded. Had it been in time? Was Azriel waking now, same as she was? She looked inward, feeling for damage, for signs. The Hex was gone, her eyes felt normal. Nerves, muscles, it was all in tact. She hadn't have much time to dwell on why they weren't working, the sound of the door slowly swinging open pulling her from her thoughts. Nesta stood in the doorway, surprised to see the healer's eyes open, turned toward her.