Heart of Torment (Breath of Mist Book 2)

E I G H T E E N - Ariana

Deep red droplets curved around the edge of the table before dripping onto the floor with a small splash, followed by another and another. Too quickly, it spread.

Blood covered the worktable in the closet of a room where I spent the majority of my time helping the servants, tending to wounds and ailments. This, however, was not something I was prepared for.

"Can you help him?" Soren asked, his brown stare pinning me.

Grabbing some scissors, I sliced through the boy's pant leg, just below where a piece of fabric was used to cut off circulation to prevent blood loss. Whoever had done it did not do it effectively, for blood continued pouring out of the wound. Moving the fabric of his pant leg, I got a good view of a deep gash in his thigh.

I shook my head. "Clause can help you. He has healers in the castle."

"He won't help him." A muscle twitched at Soren's jaw.

"Spirit," someone whispered from the door to the small room, pulling my attention to Timothy, whose massive eyes stared at the boy on my table. The boy who looked just about his age, far too young for this to be an ending to his life.

Timothy turned to me, shock melting from his gaze into determination. "What can I do?"

"Grab the thread and needle," I said, turning from him and rushing to get other supplies for disinfection and healing, amongst other things. Timothy moved through the space, quickly and efficiently, careful to stay out of my way.

He handed everything over to me, and I began disinfecting them, as well as the wound.

"Will we need to hold him down?" Timothy asked.

I glanced at the wounded boy's face. His skin was pale, and a sheen of sweat coated his forehead. I reached for his wrist, the pulse hardly even there. "No. I am afraid that he lingers on the edge of death. No amount of pain will pull him out of that lull right now."

Timothy stepped back, yet remained in the room.

I began working at sealing the wound, to keep him from losing even more blood. "Why would Clause not heal this?" I asked Soren, without looking up.

"The Sidhe king only uses his healers for those who have made their place, showing him their benefit to being kept alive. This boy has not yet had that opportunity," he answered. "He has not even completed all the Clan markings that would shield him from such an attack."

Slowly, the wound began closing with every pass of the needle through his skin.

"How did this happen?"

Soren did not answer, and I quickly glanced at him, meeting with his heavy gaze before turning back to my work.

"Is it you who does not wish to tell me? Or are you frightened you will displease your king by sharing that information?" I asked instead.

"We were outside the mountain walls." He stated, though it made little sense. Outside the mountain walls, it is still Sidhe territory.

"Your own people did this?" My fingers moved swiftly to finish the stitch and tie it off.

"Those who are outside are not cared for, not the way those in here are. Some have tried to rebel. We are sent to keep the peace." His words were cryptic. For keeping the peace likely meant killing.

"Why are the conjurors kept separated from those who are not?" I asked, pouring more disinfectant over the stitch before applying a salve that would help the healing. The boy was lucky I had it already prepared, for it nearly worked like magic compared to every other healing ointment in the world.