Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,65
and he wouldn’t ask her to abandon her patient. After all, Anna was the only one who could tell her what had happened to Fionn.
Leena soon caught up to the soldiers who had borne Anna away. They accepted her presence without comment, turning her over to the medical officer like an additional piece of luggage. The hospital tent was crowded with wounded, but they found room for Anna.
“Do you have any training?” the woman in charge asked briskly. Her name was Tyla. She was an earth fae, strongly built and with a no-nonsense air that commanded instant respect.
“I am a healer, trained at the Temple in Eldaban.”
“Eldaban?” Tyla asked with mild surprise. “You’ve come a long way.”
“I have,” Leena replied, silently wondering how many ways the journey had changed her.
The two women fell to work, confirming Leena’s diagnosis. It was clear the medical officer understood what Leena’s training meant, and she seemed glad to have another pair of able hands within her domain. Meanwhile, four other healers drifted from bed to bed, comforting the sick and injured. The pure, sweet scent of fae healing magic filled the air. Despite everything, Leena’s spirits lifted.
“I don’t think there’s any permanent damage,” Leena said to the medical officer as they set Anna’s broken arm.
The pain woke Anna up, bringing her back to consciousness with a cry. Her gaze roved over Leena’s face. “Where am I?”
“You’re with the Tymeeran army,” Tyla announced. “Your friends brought you here. Now, rest.”
She rose, leaving Leena and Anna alone. With her good hand, Anna gripped Leena’s wrist hard, as if she desperately needed an anchor.
“Your brother,” Anna began, then trailed off uncertainly. “He didn’t kill me. I know that’s obvious, but I wasn’t sure how it would turn out.”
Leena nodded. “What happened?”
“The transformation is killing him. He’s fighting it so hard.” Anna closed her eyes. “That’s why he didn’t cut my throat. A small part of him is still clinging to Faery.”
“Oh, Fionn,” Leena whispered.
“He kept repeating that you’d come for him. I think that’s what saved my life.”
Leena squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly giddy with joy and dread. “Where is he? Do you know?”
“No.” Anna shook her head, then groaned at the pain. “He ran off. I was slowing him down.”
Tyla approached with a glass. “Drink this,” she said to Anna, raising her from the pillow so she could swallow more easily.
As soon as Anna tasted the liquid, she tried to spit it out. “I don’t want a sedative. I’m a wolf. Let me shift, and I’ll heal.”
“You don’t need to be gadding about on four paws. You need rest,” the woman chided. “And don’t you be telling me you know better. This healing potion was given to me by the Mother of the Great Temple herself.”
Anna balked, but the drugs were already taking effect. The hand gripping Leena’s softened as Anna sank back to the pillow. She blinked, then blinked again, the second time on a massive yawn. A moment later, she was deeply asleep and breathing with a comfortable, even rhythm.
Leena straightened to find Tyla had left again. She folded her arms, glad her patient was resting but worried about Fionn. She would get no more information until Anna woke again, but that might be too late for her brother. He was sick—desperately so—and the Shades weren’t far away.
She left the tent, looking around to get her bearings. The camp was quiet. The sun had risen to its noontime peak, and the heat was like a blade. Leena gazed toward the horizon, her imagination roaming beyond the rows of multi-hued tents. Somewhere in the desert, her brother walked alone.
The fae army was made up of several military forces loosely gathered under the direction of a joint council led by General Sabian, war leader of the Queen of Evantra. No one had taken Morran’s place as the overall commander of the southern fae. For good or ill, there was only one Phoenix Prince, and none had dared to occupy the throne of Tymeera in his absence.
Captain Kelagras immediately took Morran to greet the senior officers, who were about to begin another meeting to determine the army’s next moves. The pavilion where they met was a large striped affair almost entirely filled by an oval meeting table. Aides-de-camp stood at attention along the walls, ready to fulfill their officers’ every need.
Of course, the meeting was disrupted by the reunion. Most encounters were the same mix of joy and confusion Morran had seen on Kelagras’s face. He was