The Lost Fae (The Twisted Crown #3) - A.K. Koonce Page 0,53

do now? Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he give instructions first?!

"Come give it a go before the tip heals closed. We don't have all day, we have the Fae Realm to get back to," he urges.

"But yet you found time to cut off your finger?" I pull out a chair and force myself down in it, swallowing the fear of failure along with it. "What do I do?"

"How are you with blood?"

"I haven't passed out yet, have I?" Though the chance of that isn't entirely off the table, I think. "You probably should have asked that first.”

"Probably." Ziko shrugs. "Take what I've cut off and press it back to the wound. Then... you'll need to enter my mind. I'll make it easy, all walls down. You'll have to encourage my body to heal. Find the source of pain in my body. Spotlight it with your magic."

I stare up at him, wishing my gaze could burn a hole right through his goddamn forehead. With what I lovingly refer to as my magic fingers, I touch inside his mind where the walls would be and find them far removed as he has suggested. It's clear where his pain is. It blooms with a flashing purple red color. I close my eyes to focus, moving to the hum of discomfort.

The closer I get, the greater a dull ache in my pinky forms and grows. Every heartbeat makes the pain heat and sear up my arm, up Lincoln's arm. I dig my teeth into my lower lip, holding his pain as if it's my own.

"Good," he whispers, "Now follow the nerve endings. Mend them. Press the skin cells back together. Make sure to promote good blood flow."

As if that's supposed to make sense to me...

The closer I focus on the ball of pain that my magic surrounds the more I notice it looks more like a bouquet. Strands and fluff of unidentifiable strings curl out of my touch. Carefully, I tug one. Lincoln gives me the smallest groan, but I sway in my chair as the agony spikes. That's a nerve alright.

Tenderly, I try to touch it again. Not a yank this time, but I follow it. I follow it to the end until I find its other half dangling not far away. My magic jumps for the other piece. There's an urgency inside of me that pushes all of my want to fix Lincoln's finger right onto the seam of it. The nerve snaps back together like the pull of each end of a rope as it ties a knot.

"Not so much magic for such a small part." Lincoln's voice is strained, his body stiff. Though I know he's closed his eyes now.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I murmur, pulling some of my magic away. There is a copper taste spreading on my tongue as I continue.

It takes time, I'm just not sure how long. The boat carries on, on whatever charted path I have yet to question Lincoln about, while the two of us stay at that table with our eyes pressed tightly closed in concentration.

Finally, there is an end to our bouquet of agony. The glowing colors of pain have calmed to a lovely blue. A healing blue. I've run out of pieces to match to the other side. I open my eyes. Lincoln's already looking down, a little too smugly, at his finger.

"If I let go of this appendage will it stay attached?" I say the words slowly.

"Won't know ‘til we try..."

I straighten my back, unaware that I'd hunched over while focusing on the work of it. My tongue darts over my lip and I taste the blood from breaking the skin as I bit it. There is even damp sweat in the most embarrassing places... under my arms, the lower part of my back.... my ass crack. Hopefully Lincoln can't tell through all the layers. Fingers crossed that when I stand there isn't a dark line on the chair, as if I've chosen to wet myself today.

Still, I have to put effort in to take each finger away from Lincoln's hand. Flecks of blood cling to my skin from holding him against me so tightly. I grimace, certain that it'll fall right off and I've used all this energy for nothing but making my clothes wet.

Lincoln lifts his hand.

And his finger stays attached. He even gives it a little wiggle to test it out.

"Aha!" I scream, throwing both my fists up in the air in victory. That pinky