A Court of Shadow and Blood

Little Prince

Astra's landing was far from graceful.

Her vision speckled as she hit the ground, rolling several paces. Jagged rocks and fallen branches cut into her skin. Finally coming to a stop, she allowed herself to breathe in the earthy wet mud. Her fae magic crackled as it began to heal her injuries. A mellow spring breeze kissed her cheeks, miles away from the Night Court's winter chill. Aromas of lavender and peony quelled her nausea as the world righted itself. On the horizon, a faint orange hue illuminated the meadow they'd landed in.

"Ronan?" Astra groaned, rolling on her belly as she reached to grab him. Her fingers found nothing but dew and grass.

Suddenly alert, Astra sat up quickly. "Ronan!" she cried into the morning mist.

Silence.

More hurriedly than her joints would prefer, Astra shot to her feet. Her cloak brushed against her bare heels, toes numbing from the cool wetness of the grass beneath her. She scanned her surroundings more closely. The meadow was empty.

Clearly, Ronan had lost his grip on Astra while beaming, whether accidental or otherwise. Ahead Astra spotted a dense forest in the distance. If the meadow was unoccupied, Ronan must have landed amongst the trees. Astra hugged her cloak tighter and started towards it.

A leafy green canopy shielded her from the rising sun, dimming as she ventured deeper into the woods. Astra quieted her thrumming pulse and focused on the woodland sounds around her. Bushes rustled to her left; birds cawed to her right. A twig snapped sharply in the distance, followed by a breathy sigh of exhaustion. Ronan. A dark silhouette steadied itself against a tree trunk ahead, its tousled silver hair moving gently with the breeze.

"Ronan!" Astra sprinted towards him, flooded with relief. But as she neared, she realized that Ronan struggled to remain upright, gripping the tree tightly. His head drooped, arms slipping from the sturdy trunk. Before Astra could blink, Ronan was on the ground.

She reached him in an instant, brushing sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. She pressed her fingers to his neck, and mercifully felt his pulse beating steadily beneath her fingertips.

"Sunshine," Ronan breathed, a weak smile creeping across his face. His silver eyes sparkled faintly. "Nice of you to join me."

Astra gave him a reassuring grin, masking her concern as best she could.

Ronan's expression clouded. "I dropped you," he faltered. Astra cradled his head as it lulled to the side, then gripped his hand, urging him to stay conscious. His fingers cooled in her grasp. His face paled. Was he bleeding? Astra's heart pounded.

"Ronan, I need you to stay awake," she commanded. His eyelids hovered. Astra continued to grip Ronan tightly, willing him into consciousness. After a few agonizing seconds, Ronan's eyes opened slowly.

"It wasn't my intention to drop you," he said ruefully. He blinked at her, as if unsure if she had really survived the fall.

"Don't worry. I'm fine." She grabbed his free hand, which was twitching nervously around the clasp of his cloak. He returned her tight grip around his palm.

Astra bit back guilt and fear. It had been a mistake to come here. Winnowing-or beaming, she supposed-involved advanced magic only possessed by the most powerful fae in Prythian. Ronan was strong, but he had pushed himself to his limits by transporting both of them miles away from the Night Court. She felt ashamed of her selfishness-she'd insisted that Ronan take her to the Wall on a whim, failing to consider how taxing the journey might be for him.

Ronan's eyes began to close again, and Astra squeezed his hands to keep him conscious. Fae are resilient, she repeated to herself. She needed him to be resilient. If Ronan's magic was like her own, his body should have begun the restorative process already.