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THE VILLAGE WAS IN flames, and there was nothing Kit could do. He watched a sword separate a child's head from her shoulders, followed by the terrified scream of her mother nearby. Kit wished it was a mercy, the blade cutting off her cries and, effectively, her grief.

All this death, but none of them deserved it. Kit was the one that had it coming. He'd lose his head a thousand times over if it meant these people could live. He wished they didn't see this as some kind of revolution, that he didn't inspire them to fight back.

"Kill me," he said, but his voice only came out in a whisper. "Kill me. Kill me. Stop killing them, just kill me. Please."

His voice wouldn't raise above a whisper. He gathered up all his strength, but just as he thought he might successfully scream, he woke himself up.

He was on a bed, shirtless and surrounded by fussy Seelies with wet rags.

"You're awake," one said. Kit tried to sit up, but a searing pain in his side forced him back down.

"Shit," he breathed. "Where's Morgana? And everyone else? Are they okay?"

"The Unseelie is still locked away, he is in good health. Your friends are alright, they were healed last night," a nurse answered, pushing a needle into his side.

He let out a cry, only to realize it was just stitches. After a brief examination, he could count five deep wounds and even more Seelies tending to them.

"You're a stubborn asshole, you stayed in that dungeon until you passed out," said a familiar voice. It was Eurion, stepping into the room and standing at his feet. "You should've asked for help."

Kit said nothing, just stared up at the ceiling.

"Morgana will be fine," she continued like she read his mind. "The guards down there know what they're doing, I promise. Even I can't sneak around them. He'll stay put."

"Is he awake?"

"I haven't checked, but they'd let us know if something was wrong." She placed a hand at the side of his ankle, wiggling his leg with warm eyes. "We'll figure this out, Kit. We're good at that."

The prince kept silent, something he wasn't used to doing. Clearly Eurion wasn't used to it, either, because she kept talking.

"Hey, you alright?"

Kit chuckled. "You probably know the answer to that."

"You're right. How was your sleep?"

He let out a breath, then yelped at a sudden burning in his thigh. A Seelie was pressing their hand against a cut, healing it the same way Giselle healed. It hurt like a bitch, but his tolerance for pain was growing.

"Bad dreams, nothing new. How long was I out?"

"I'd say fifteen hours," she answered, letting go of his ankle and getting comfortable on a nearby chair. "Giselle has you beat, though, she's still sleeping. But she's okay. Selene hasn't taken her eyes off her."

"Shocker. Can I sit up now?"

The nurse tending to his side slapped a sticky leaf over the cut, then motioned that they were done. With another nurse's help, he sat up, leaning back against the wall, softened by layers of leaves.

What he really wanted was to stand up, but his thigh looked messy and his arm was being stitched up in at least three places still.

"How are you?" he asked Eurion. She seemed like the least injured, a fresh red scar over her lip all he could see. He had a similar scar on his own mouth, a heartfelt gift from the tip of his father's blade and a gentle reminder that his voice wasn't welcomed there.

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