Faith is Fallen (Broken Fantasies Series)

Chapter 8

Author's Note:  I'm not overly happy with this chapter.  I feel like I could have gone into more detail into their budding relationship as she recovers, but I wrote this while sleep deprived, and it's NaNoWriMo, so maybe I'll fix it in the second draft.

Yesterday, I finally hit 25k in Faith is Fallen!  Very exciting.  I'm going to participate in 2 write ins today, which should be fun.  And I've finally gotten to writing present time again, which makes me so happy I could just dance, because that's when it really gets juicy.

Enjoy!

Cara's recovery dragged on for weeks, though it didn't take long before she could sit up, first with a great deal of assistance, then of her own volition. After being able to sit on her own, it took her another week to stand with assistance.

Everyone marveled at her recovery, calling it a miracle. Cara called in unbearable. Sidhe didn't heal so slowly. Heck, no Fae did. But the wound was great, and it had taken all of her willpower not to cry out in despair when she first realized how great. Instead, she'd cried quietly into the bedding. Her wings. He'd cut off her wings. Even now, emotion clogged her throat as her mind shied away from that terrible truth.

All Fae had wings. It was inherent to who they were. Some were big, others small. Some, like hers had been, were feathered, with feathers that glistened in the moonlight. Others were filmy, and glittered incessantly with the magic they held. And there were many, many more, but they all had wings. To not have them, to have lost them, would be like a human losing their arms—traumatic, prone to collecting looks of pity, and bound to create distance, isolation, from those around you, possibly even those closest to you.

Another tear leaked from her lids as she mourned the death of a future that would never be. After all, the Sidhe's large, strong wings held significance, symbolic of strength and power. How could a queen rule effectively without those symbols? It would be like a crippled man leading an army. Intellectually, he could do it, and he might even be a potent leader, but symbolic power is just as important at times to true power.

Of course, at the moment, she didn't even have true power. Her injuries left her so weak, her legs would shake when she tried to stand on her own, even with the support of the bed.

And she had felt a depressing lack of her magic since waking. Ordinarily, it always loomed in the corners of her mind, catering to her every whim. Which was a challenge for one of the Seelie, Fae who dedicated their life to Order. After all, nothing was more chaotic than the subconscious, whether Fae or human.

So that void of magic only left her feeling more useless, more powerless, more pitiful. No, her life as she'd always assumed it would be had changed irrevocably with that single, brutal act. She would not be queen of the Seelie Fae some day.

Which just left this great big emptiness in her future, a directionless uncertainty that unnerved as much if not more than her missing magic and quaking limbs. What would she do? What could she do? Marry Conall?

She paused at the thought. Conall sat with her every day, helping her to sit or stand. He patiently waited on her hand and foot. The patience caught her attention. She'd encountered her share of human men, but she'd never encountered one who clearly trained as a warrior, and yet held the patient and caring façade of a healer when needed. It made her contemplate the offer all the more.

Not that he'd repeated it since. Cara knew that he was only biding his time, letting her get to know him, but for some strange reason she wanted him to ask her again. With the future she'd always seen for herself in tatters, a future in the human world grew more and more appealing.

But could she do it? Could she subject herself to that future pain? After all, she would watch Conall, and all the friends and family she made along the way, grow old and die. And could she do that to Conall? After all, Fae birth rates were abysmal, and Conall, as a lord, would need an heir, wouldn't he?

But what propelled her more than anything else as he walked through the door of her room that day was debt. She was indebted to him. He'd saved her life, and she could never repay him enough for that. Not even with an entire lifetime. So if it brought her a lifetime of pain and loss, so be it. She would spend a lifetime thanking him.

"I will, Conall. I'll marry you."