Because I Love You✔️

Chapter 123: Ella's Lullaby

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three: Ella's Lullaby

Ella drifted.

Floating above herself, eyes closed, she felt detached in a very strange way.

But then, she began to come back, sinking back into herself limb by limb.

Regaining consciousness felt like having cotton pulled out of her ears.

Something cool and dry touched her cheek, making her eyes flutter open, and when she looked she saw a shadow looming above her head. She tried to sit up, blinking through a haze of sleep and the throb of a massive headache, but firm hands pushed her down onto something soft.

"Awake at last, are we?" said a rough voice... Vordt, she realized when she got used to the harsh sunlight shining on her face and saw him hovering over her.

"Where am I?" came her gummy reply. She wanted to cover her eyes, but as soon as she tried she realized that her left hand was caught under something and that her fingers, come to think of it, felt like they had steel rods running through the joints.

"You should probably let go sometime soon," he said dryly. "Your fingers are turning blue."

Wait, what? she wondered, and made to figure out what he meant.

No one stopped her when she tried sitting up, and once she managed to open her eyes all the way she took a good look around. Gus was squatting in front of Sinmir with his left arm in a makeshift sling, talking to the prince in a soothing tone, but he wasn't responding.

Leaning against a tree, he was staring off into space with a blank, stunned expression.

Amelia was tending to Vrael, who had bandages wrapped around his head and upper torso.

For the most part, everyone seemed to have calmed down.

Thank Asgrog, she thought, then turned to her left.

Xaphile lay on his back beside her. His face was turned her way and was covered in sweat, teeth grit and eyes screwed up so tight that his forehead looked as crumpled as abused paper, and his right arm, the one with the bloody wound in his shoulder, ended with a hand clamped tight around the stick she'd tried to help him walk with.

Muscles corded in his forearm; veins stood out in his wrist, throbbing with pent-up blood; his fingers looked like they were about to shatter against the walking stick.

Ella's left hand clenched the branch a few inches below his own, and Vordt had been right when he'd said her fingers were turning blue. She practically had to peel herself off of the wood, finger by finger, joint by joint, and each motion was extremely painful and preternaturally stiff.

Her bones felt as brittle as glass.

"What happened?" she asked. "How long was I unconscious?"

Vordt sat there stoically, watching her work through dispassionate eyes, then studied Xaphile with a critical eye.

"The two of you collapsed after I used my magic on him," he said, eyes on the stick. "My healing magic isn't as instantaneous as the typical mimic magic you humans use for flesh wounds. It takes longer, but the wound will eventually heal up without even a scar."

Ella flexed her hand, staring at it with a grimace.

"So he's basically going to have to wait, in pain," she muttered. "Damn it to the nine."

"Neither one of you would let go of that stupid stick you handed him after the magic hit you, which is bad, because the magic won't even start to heal him if he keeps it up. Too stressed," he muttered, looking at her without expression. "I was hoping he'd let go if you did."