Of Thorn and Thread (Daughters of Eville #4) - Chanda Hahn Page 0,3

Her face deadly calm. She had been in the well. I could imagine her back pressed against the side, her legs leveraged on the wall and the tips of her skirt dangling in the water. That would take incredible strength and control. Lorn and Honor headed into the forest in search of the cry for help.

I tried to gather my emotions and block out the pain, but it was almost impossible. I inhaled as I grasped my side.

“It hurts so bad,” I whimpered. Based on the location of my phantom pains, whoever was calling was severely wounded.

Mother Eville’s voice was in my head, chastising me. Telling me to block off the caller to protect myself. But if I did that, then I couldn’t find them. It was a two-way line of communication. If I couldn’t feel them, then I couldn’t hear them.

The pain ebbed away, and I found enough strength to stand and follow Honor and Lorn.

I have failed.

I turned and fell over a warm body.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried out. Quickly, I sat back on my heels and looked at the poor golden-furred creature. On closer examination, the fur was the collar of a red cloak. I carefully rolled the person over and saw a man in a golden helm, his chin showing a few days of dark stubble. His uniform with golden trim was foreign. I didn’t recognize it as one of our neighboring kingdoms.

The red uniform hid his wound, and I only knew where it was because of my pain. I lifted his tunic, exposing the makeshift bandage that had soaked through. I pulled back the cloth to reveal a deep gash, and infected yellow pus spilled out.

I leaned down and gave it a passing sniff. There was a hint of magic about his wounds that prevented them from healing despite dressing the injury.

I closed my eyes and focused.

Lorn. Here . . .

My head throbbed. It was easier for me to pick out the thoughts of others than to send my own, which was usually only successful when amplified by fear.

We’re coming, Aurora.

Kraa! Kraa! Maeve called out my location to help Lorn and Honor find me.

“Maeve, fly home. Tell mother we have a medical situation. Have Rhea mill linseed and bezoar. I will do my best to get him home in one piece.” Maeve turned to fly south as fast as she could.

I pulled the helm off to reveal a young man with sun-blond hair. His green eyes fluttered open. The pain I saw within them drew me in. I clasped his hand. “I can’t heal you until we draw out whatever magic is preventing your wound from healing. But I can take your pain away if you let me.”

He nodded. His head rolled back, and his breathing became ragged.

My hands trembled as I put my hands on his temples, unsure if I could do it on such a large scale. As a child, this was an easy feat when one of my sisters fell or scraped their leg. I would draw away the pain and share it with them.

I reached into his mind and picked away. Pain was mental, and therefore in my wheelhouse, but magic always came with a price. It’s a give and take. To take his mental pain away, it needed to go somewhere else—me.

I cried out, not expecting the intense gut-wrenching anguish. I almost threw up. My mouth gaped open, but I refused to let go. I would take his pain. I had to.

The copper tinge of blood filled my mouth as I accidentally bit my tongue.

The stranger’s breathing relaxed, but I wouldn’t let go.

“Aura. We’re here.” Lorn found me. He kneeled and lifted the stranger into a sitting position, breaking my mental hold. I gasped as it was like being slapped in the face with a hammer, but I regained control. I was still grasping for the link, like racing after the string on a kite through the grass.

I struggled for the connection, and then caught it.

Honor helped lift the stranger across Lorn’s back. Elves were stronger than most men, and faster. Lorn took off running, the stranger a red blur on his back as he raced for our home.

Honor reached for my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” I backed away. Tears poured down my face as I grappled with the man’s pain.

“Aura, you can’t take all the pain.”

“I can,” I snapped. “I must. If I hadn’t been so weak, then Meri wouldn’t have . . . she wouldn’t have . . .”

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