Sevana grew impatient with this argument, as they could go in circles for hours, and clapped her hands sharply. “Again, the victim should not be the voice of reason in the room. Firuz, I well understand your agitation, as I share it. The Institute was a place well known for learning. But it’s water under the bridge now—the building can’t be revived, nor can the dead walk out of their graves. They made a very stupid mistake and, unfortunately, paid for it. Even you agreed it was a stupid thing to do. Will you defend their stupidity?”
Part of Firuz really wanted to argue yes, but he visibly bit it back. “No. No, I cannot do that. For your sake, I truly cannot. But I cannot just dismiss this matter either, Sevana.”
“Nor should you. Your country was invaded without a by-your-leave; at the very least, an apology is owed for that.” Turning her eyes up to the left section of the mirror, she grimaced a smile, the best she could do with this level of heat and pain searing at the back of her neck. “Aranhil. Do I need to tell you to play nice?”
The king of the Fae stared back at her, entirely unamused. “You are cheeky, daughter. Are you truly not upset with all of this?”
“The Institute was destroyed right down to the ground. What more revenge can I ask for?” she retorted calmly. “And really, you’ve almost gone to war with Sa Kao once before because of a misunderstanding. Do you want to repeat that mistake yet a second time?”
A little growl of frustration rumbled from the back of his throat. “Oh, very well. We will let bygones be bygones. Will a dozen Alder trees be sufficient as an apology?”
Master’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, a mannerism that Sevana duplicated as she stared at Aranhil in surprise. The Alder tree was considered sacred among the Fae, as it was a symbol of resurrection and had the power of divination, especially in the diagnosing of diseases. It was sacrosanct; only a fool dared to cut it down.
“Firuz,” Master directed urgently, “if you’re not familiar with this tree, I will answer for you: take the deal. It’s a very powerful tree and not one that the Fae choose to share with the outside world very often. It’s by far a very excellent token for an apology.”
Thankfully, Firuz was a king who could take counsel. He studied Master’s expression for a moment, then Sevana’s, before nodding slowly. “Very well. I will accept this.”
“I will send someone to plant them in your palace grounds within the next fortnight,” Aranhil promised reluctantly. “But be aware, we will not respond well to another breach of etiquette. My daughter wishes to remain in the human world even after she’s fully adopted into the Fae. If she’s visited with harm again, I will not take it well.”
“If she’s taken again, then I will help you punish the idiots,” Firuz promised tartly. “Just alert me that you’re doing so first. I don’t want to be caught off-guard again.”
That soothed Aranhil as nothing else had. He settled into a more non-antagonistic stance. “That I can safely promise.”
Aran came back with the cold packs but stayed put, just out of range of the mirror. Sevana appreciated that he didn’t advertise how bad off she was, waiting until the conversation was over. “Then, gentlemen, I’ll go. I’ve other things that demand my attention here.”
Firuz inclined his head to her. “Thank you for reaching out, Artifactor. We appreciate your assistance and formally apologize for what happened.”
Wanting to cut this short, Sevana went with the succinct response: “Thank you.”
Firuz disappeared, leaving only the other two. To Aranhil, Sevana directed, “I’ll give you a more detailed report of how I’m doing, but not today. I need to lie down.”
“Of course,” Aranhil urged her with a worried expression. “You’ve done more than you should today. Go and rest. I can sort out the rest of it.”
He’d better. Sevana only had so much diplomacy in her system and she’d used up the vast majority of it today. With a salute, she waved the men off and grabbed Aran’s arm, using him to pull herself out of the chair. “Bed. Ice.”
Carefully supporting her weight, Aran gently helped her to the bedroom, then lay the ice packs along her back, wrapped in towels to take the bitter cold edge off. She lay there, shivering from the dichotomy of hot and cold, mentally counting down the days.
At least she wouldn’t return to the surface with a war brewing.
Sevana flailed awake in sheer, unadulterated panic.
The dream had been strange, fear-inducing, a nonsensical scenario where she was desperately trying to free herself of something, something dark and cloying, only to fail with every attempt and get stuck further. Her heart beat a drum in her ears, sweat clinging to her skin as her fight and flight instincts kicked in until she jerked upright, panting for breath.
Why was the room so dark?
It shouldn’t be dark, even in the dead of night; the florescent minerals embedded into the walls gave off a faint glow. Why didn’t she see that? Nothing seemed out of place, although her senses were still screwy—could she even trust them?
Her panic doubled again as her hand flew to her face, fingers checking that her eyes were open. But she couldn’t feel her skin, just the pressure of something poking near her eye. She couldn’t see—smell—feel—anything. Total sensory deprivation except, strangely, her ears. She could hear the deep breathing of her friend in the next room, the dull roar of the ocean all around them, and the delicate trickle of voices from outside. It was beyond unnerving, it was borderline terrifying. Why was she having this severe trouble with her senses now?!
It took two breaths before she could make her throat loosen enough from its constricted clench that she could get any air out. Another three before she could get an actual word. Sevana clawed for sanity, for control, because being like this, being this helpless, filled her with dread. Finally, she managed in a husky, strained voice: “Aran.”
In an instant, she heard bedsheets flip over, the soft thud as his feet hit the cold tile floor. A dip on the bed—his weight—and then pressure on her arms, although her skin didn’t register any sense of heat or tactile sensation. “Sevana? You called for me?”
“I…” Breathe. Don’t just sit there, breathe. She had to communicate with him, she had to tell him the problem, otherwise he couldn’t help her. Forcing herself to grasp the patience that she’d been forced to cultivate during a long convalescence, Sevana stamped down on her bewilderment and fright enough that she could talk. “I can’t see.”
The bed moved in a sharp jerk. Aran had startled? “Nothing at all?”
“It’s just darkness. I can’t feel anything, either. Hearing seems to be fine, and I’m not sure about taste.” It cost her dearly to say those words evenly and her own ears still heard the barely restrained panic in her report.
In a rapid tone, he ordered firmly, “Do not move, I’ll get Ursilla.”
The bedsprings sprang back up as he leapt off and darted away.
With nothing to do, Sevana sat tautly in the silence. It felt heavy to her—claustrophobically so—and she felt panic eating away at her sanity. Never before in her life had she been this helpless and Sevana didn’t care for the experience one whit. She forced herself to draw in a breath, hold it, release. Breathe in, hold it, release. She did that over and over, forcing herself to not panic, to not have an attack of some sort, as that wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all her.
It felt like an eternity. More likely it was minutes later when two different people entered, their feet slapping against the tile as they scurried inside, and someone else sat on the edge of the bed. Sevana only knew it wasn’t Aran because the weight was different, lighter.
“Sevana, you can still hear me?” Ursilla inquired in a low, rough voice, probably from being awoken so abruptly.
She nodded, then felt foolish for the motion. “Yes.”
“I see a great swirl of energies within you. I believe that the Fae blood is battling it out with your senses. Allow me to examine you for a moment.”
Not expecti
ng answers to just spew out of the woman’s mouth, Sevana gave another nod, more curt this time. She felt someone else—Aran—sit behind her, hands bracing her shoulders. She leaned into the contact slightly, because despite not being able to feel it properly, it still comforted her. Marginally, at least.
It took a moment, long and tense, silent as a graveyard at midnight.
“I’m correct,” Ursilla finally pronounced. She had a very smug note to her voice, a tone that Sevana recognized full well, as it was something that she employed often. Sevana found it completely irritating and now had an appreciation for the people who wanted to smack her. “The Fae blood is battling it out for the control of your senses. Especially your sight, as it is directly connected to your magical core, so of course it would be resistant to change. Your sense of touch too, I believe, is very integrated with your magic. I had not quite anticipated such events, but they are not a surprise, either. Another application of Arandur’s blood, and I think we’ll be able to overpower matters. Enough, at least, that your senses are once again restored. Whether they’ll be elevated to a Fae’s level we’ll have to wait and see.”
“At the moment I’m less concerned about Fae senses and more concerned with having mine back,” Sevana gritted out between clenched teeth. Don’t hit the woman, don’t hit the woman, don’t hit the woman.
“Arandur, if you will?” Ursilla directed him casually. “In the center of her forehead.”
The two on the bed switched places and Aran had to step into the other room to fetch his dagger before he could prick his finger. Sevana had the dullest impression of a finger against her skin, although no other sense of heat, wetness, or anything else as he traced the symbol onto her. Whatever Ursilla said about touch being connected to her magical core, it related to her skin in general, not just what her hands touched.
As he finished, everyone sat still and waited for several taut moments. Sevana found herself holding her breath, but when minutes ticked by, she was forced to release it and draw another. “I don’t think this is going to be a quick change.”
“Apparently not,” Ursilla agreed calmly. “I suggest sleeping. It will speed the process along.”
More likely, it would keep Sevana from going insane while waiting for things to revert. Sevana did not think she’d be able to sleep in this state—in fact she was very sure of it—but it didn’t hurt to try.
Aran’s thoughts ran along the same line, and he inquired, “Perhaps a sleeping draught of some sort?”
“Yes, that’s probably wise. It will ease her transition if she’s able to sleep solidly for a few hours. I’ll fetch one.” Ursilla rose and was gone with a gentle swish of skirts.
“How are you doing?” Aran asked gently against her ear, his weight pressed lightly along her back.
“I really don’t like this,” she gritted back between clenched teeth. Forcing out an explosive breath, she admitted, “But we didn’t expect this to be easy. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I think when you wake up in the dead of night with only half your senses working, you’re at the very least allowed to be surprised.” He slid both arms around her waist and drew her into a comforting hug. “I’m very glad I stayed here with you.”
Sevana relaxed back into his arms, just for a moment. What would it have been like? To have been here, alone, with only relative strangers about her? Sevana wasn’t much for company, she could frankly admit that she preferred her alone time, but even hypothetically going through this without a friendly face nearby unnerved her. It felt strange, a little uncomfortable to admit, but perhaps she should. Aran had turned his world upside down to accommodate her. And she owed him at least a word of thanks. “I’m glad you came with me too.”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he responded. “Really? Despite my hovering?”
“At least you’re not annoying about it. I would have killed either Kip or Master by this point.”
Aran snorted in amusement. “Seeing how they reacted last time, I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
With a swish of skirts, Ursilla entered once more. “Here. Take this, all in one go if you can manage it.”
“Let me guess,” Sevana held out her hand blindly, fingers closing around the cool, cylindrical shape pressed into it. “It tastes vile.”
“All good medicine does. The body recovers faster to avoid drinking it further.”
Sevana felt like she’d heard those words before. Actually, she was fairly certain she’d said them at some point in time. With a grimace, she braced herself and upended the vial all in one go. Even trying to not taste, just swallow, it was impossible to avoid the mix on her tongue. It tasted very strongly of squid ink, stewed kelp left to steep too long, and the overpowering brine of the sea. (And why her sense of taste now worked correctly was another mystery.) Grimacing, she forced herself to finish it before handing it back. “And how long will that keep me asleep?”
“A full eight hours, at least,” Ursilla answered calmly.
That sounded blissful right now. In fact, she felt the medicine start its effects already; she grew slightly light-headed, even as her body relaxed into that pre-slumber mode. “Good.”
“I’ll be right here just in case,” Aran promised her, gently sliding out so that she could lay back down.
The blankets and pillow welcomed her like a returned friend and she sighed as she relaxed into them. Still, anxiety had a grip on her mind, and she felt reassured that Aran would stay nearby. Absolutely nothing could get by that man, Sevana would bet her soul on that. “Aran.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t just sit there watching me,” she ordered fuzzily. Sevana had seen him do this before, where he stood on watch and didn’t take care of himself. “Remember to eat.”
“Yes, yes,” he assured her in amusement.
“Stubborn man,” she sighed, her last coherent thought. Then the world of dreams reached up and yanked her under.
Arandur watched her for a few moments: the peaceful expression on her face as sleep stole away her anxiety, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Dark magic, but that had been terrifying. Bad enough for the problems with her senses to escalate, but what had cut him to the quick was seeing her obvious terror. Sevana had done her best to stay calm, to rationally report to him the problem, all the while sitting there like a child lost in a dark mountain. It had taken every ounce of control he had to not latch onto her.
But as much as he would have liked to say otherwise, his embrace was not a cure-all. Holding her would not fix the problem. He’d quickly fetched Ursilla for that reason, and was gratified when the woman immediately rolled out of her bed and came. Still, even with the expert calmly assuring them that this change was nothing to be alarmed about, Arandur prayed that nothing else like this would happen. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take it, seeing that expression of dread on Sevana’s face again.
Ursilla let out a gusty sigh that spoke volumes. “At the very least, can you not be so obvious in your affections, young man?”
Turning his head a few inches, Arandur regarded her steadily. Ursilla might have several hundred years on him, and she was a legend even among the Fae, but he felt no qualms in standing his ground. “Is there something wrong with one person loving another?”
She gave him the most maternal, exasperated look he’d ever received, and his own mother had been an expert at that look. “Your desire for her is not appropriate, Arandur.”
“I do believe that’s entirely between me and Sellion,” he retorted mildly.
Pursing her lips, she stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Your ranking is beneath her. Such a union is not befitting of the Fae.” When Arandur did not respond, she added, “You really think you can have her, don’t you.”
It was not a question. Arandur answered it anyway. “She told you before that she has argued with kings and won. She was not exaggerating. For that matter, she’s argued with gods and won. Let’s be clear on this, Ursilla. The only
person whose opinion matters to me in this is Sellion’s. When she chooses to give her heart, she will not seek approval from anyone else, least of all some antiquated custom. This is not a woman who can be dictated to.”
Ursilla sat at the edge of the bed and watched him for a long, eternal moment. Then, strangely, she smiled. It was not a nice expression, but one that contained a great deal of challenge. “You think that by holding your ground like this, she’ll eventually turn to you.”
Arandur was not about to argue the point, or give voice to all the observations that he’d made over the past several months that gave him hope. He didn’t want to explain that Sevana was a fiercely independent woman and that he’d watched her steadily include him into a very exclusive inner circle. He especially wouldn’t tell her that the way Sevana now trusted him to be at her side, and the way she sometimes depended on him, was like an unspoken promise between them. The complexity of their relationship could not be summed up on paper, even if he used volumes in the attempt.
His silence, as it turned out, said quite a bit.
Shaking her head, Ursilla warned him, “Just by being with her, you won’t win her heart. She’s not one given to romance.”
It took effort, but Arandur refrained from rolling his eyes at her and retorting with ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Arandur had no intention of just idly standing by and waiting for Sevana to notice. He just hadn’t found the right timing yet. Not that he had any intention of telling Ursilla that, as that truly wasn’t any of her business. As much as he appreciated the woman’s magical help, he did not need her interference in his relationship with Sevana.
Something of that must have shown on his face, as Ursilla’s brows quirked in challenge. “You’re not one to be easily put off, I see. Just as well, if you’re to have any chance of succeeding. I’ll leave you to watch her. It goes without saying that you’re to fetch me if you see anything strange.”
The Fae Artifactor Page 10
