War of Winter (Iron Fey Fanfiction)

Chapter 28 - The Return

            Crystal did not remember much of how she ended up thrown across the back of a horse like a sack of wheat, nor why her face ached and felt as if she'd stuck it in candle wax. The slow plodding of the horse beneath her did nothing to ease her pain as she observed sharp green grass still stained with Fey blood as it passed slowly.

    As she slowly came to, she managed to twist her head a bit to see her captor, a brawny and grumpy looking Summer soldier whose face had seen way too many wars. Not having the strength to speak, she let her head drop back to its previous position, feeling the blood rush to her head. 

   After a while, the soldier reined in his horse, bringing it to a halt. He dismounted and pulled her off, literally dumping her on the ground as if she were merely a sack of rubbish. He then swung back on his horse. "I suggest oakweed for those bruises," he grumbled before steering his horse away and galloping back across the field. 

   That's when she realized. He'd dumped her on the doorstep of Winter's encampment. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself to her elbows, trying to focus on breathing. Everything hurt, now that she thought about it. 

   She gave herself a small pep talk, and somehow managed to struggle to her feet, stumbling forward on wobbly legs. Gripping the trees for support with one hand, she made her way toward the camp, where she was greeted by several guards and her frantic mother. 

  A flurry of questions were flown her way by the guards, but her mother fiercely shushed them and took her daughter's arm, slinging it over her shoulder. Shooing the guards away, the Duchess led Crystal toward her tent, letting Crystal set the pace, which was a slow shuffle across the camp. 

  "I...am sorry I'm such a...bur-" Crystal started to say quietly to her mother, trying to concentrate on walking straight. She was glad of her mother's support - and for someone to lean on. 

  "Hush, now, dear," her mother chided. "You are not a burden." They reached the tent and the Duchess pushed aside one flap, maneuvering them both inside. Crystal's stomach suddenly clenched at the movement and she felt like puking. What had they done to her? 

  After laying Crystal down on the bed and adding an extra pillow under her head, the Duchess bustled about, probably fixing some sort of tea, like she always had done when Crystal was in a state of worry or concern, which she most definitely was. 

  "How bad is it?" Crystal mumbled. It was just now that she realized her shirt was pasted to her back, which hurt like a bitch. It was probably infected. 

    Her mother hesitated a moment in her bustling and then spoke. "You have a black eye, and a split lip and another cut on your cheek, and I've not had a good look at your back yet - I'll fetch a healer to do that." She seemed to remember that there were healers in the camp at that moment because, without saying another word, she darted out of the tent in search of one. 

  Crystal took that moment to push herself to her elbows with great effort. There was a floor-length mirror across the tent and she almost gasped at her appearance. She looked awful, in other words. 

   Her hair was a mess, full of tangles and knots, and dirt for that matter. Her eyelids were swollen and a purple bruise circled one. A dark cut on her left cheek stung and looked red around the edges. Infection had probably started to set in. Her lips were chapped and her stomach didn't feel all that well either. 

  She groaned and flopped back down on the mattress, which was a terrible mistake because the movement sent acid racing up her back. She whimpered and tears collected in her eyes. She didn't really care that they spilled over as a healer - thankfully not one of the ghostly ones - burst through the tent flaps, followed by her mother and a young soldier. 

  The healer had brought her bag of supplies, and laid them on the nightstand. "I'll need a look at your back, girl," she said tersely, but not unkindly. When Crystal didn't move, she carefully rolled her over. Crystal did not miss her sharp intake of breath as the healer beheld her back. 

  "Bran, go fetch Hana, immediately," she snapped at the soldier. He obeyed. Hana was probably another healer. Her back was that bad, huh?

  The healer, introducing herself as Frost, began to gently peel away the bits of fabric embedded in Crystal's whip lashes. Crystal gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into her palms. When Bran returned a moment later with Hana, both healers sent the Duchess and Bran out of the tent so that they may work in peace. 

  Her mother protested, but Bran soon urged her away, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. The healers made up a oily, but creamy substance in a bowl and brewed some poppy tea. After making Crystal drink it, Hana set to work on cleaning Crystal's wounds. 

  Crystal was sure she passed out. When she awoke again, Frost was spreading the creamy substance over the lashes on her back. Cold rushed in Crystal and she let out a sigh of bliss. Apparently, she'd been overtaken by fever, and Hana, after urging some water and poppy tea into her, finally managed to bring the fever down. 

  "We'll let you rest now, Lady," Frost said, smoothing Crystal's hair away from her face, which had also been taken care of, courtesy of Hana. After they left, Crystal had not even closed her eyes for two seconds before she felt another presence in the room. 

  She cracked her eyes open slightly and her heart leapt in her chest. "How do you feel?" Rowan asked, sitting down on the edge of her cot beside her. He took in her back (she had to lay on her stomach to let the wounds breath that would result in quicker recovery) with an intake of breath. "They put dirty water on it, I bet. The Summer soldiers," he said.

  Crystal nodded. She believed it. Silence enveloped the space before Crystal found her voice again. "How did you manage to stay hidden?" she mumbled, trying not to slur her words. 

  "Well, after I slept in until about half sun, I woke up to find you gone and decided to go find you. I ended up helping some soldiers with skittish horses, though, and I couldn't refuse for risk of looking suspicious." He somehow found a comb and began to undo the knots in the calamity that was Crystal's hair. 

  "After helping them, it was nearly evening, and I'd heard you'd been caught. At first, I didn't believe it, then I saw the gathering of fey that night. Turns out, low and behold, the real Lukas had returned - without the real Flora, though."

  Rowan carefully ran the comb through Crystal's hair, being gentle around the tangles. Crystal had her eyes closed and liked the cool air he was giving off, cooling her back even more. "So, while they were torturing you, I sought out the idiot who'd assaulted you in the woods, questioned him about the Weapon, then took his head. " He hesitated. "I'm sorry I didn't come for you," he whispered.

   Crystal shook her head. "Don't you dare apologize. It would've been pointless. You would have been found out, and we both wouldn't be here right now," she said, a bit sharper than she intended. 

  Rowan swallowed. "Unfortunately the real Lukas caught me in his disguise before I used Winter glamour to freeze the guards eyeballs out. Lukas got away before I could do any damage to him, though."

  He ran a hand through Crystal's now untangled hair. "I hated seeing them do that to you. I call dibs on Lukas."

 Crystal smirked. "I called him first, frosty," she said. Then blushed. 

  Frosty? Really, Crystal? Rowan didn't seem to mind though. He smirked and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

  "I like that nickname," he purred, his cold breath touching her ear. "I would stay with you, but unfortunately the Queen has called a meeting I'm already incredibly late to." Rising, he dimmed the light in the tent with a wave of his hand and winked at her before ducking out under the tent flap. 

  Crystal closed her eyes and fell asleep with the memory of the ice prince's gentle hands in her hair.