War of Winter (Iron Fey Fanfiction)

Chapter 30 - Healing

         Crystal felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart seem to stop. The world slowed down, time withdrawing into itself so that everything moved in slow motion. The blast from the Weapon rendered Crystal deaf for a few precious minutes. 

   She finally snapped out of her frozen reverie to run across the clearing towards where several Summer soldiers who weren't caught in traps, were hauling away their legless axman. He was screaming, Crystal knew by the way his mouth moved, but she could not hear it. She could not even hear the fierce beat of her heart as she ran to Rowan's side.

   Her ears rang and her eyes and nose stung  from the smoke. She fell to her knees beside Rowan, who was unconscious. She quickly assessed him for wounds, her heart pounding and fear overpowering her instinct to remain emotionless. She could have been screaming for all she knew. 

   When sound finally started to return to her sensitive Fey ears, she finally found the worst wound on the prince. Aside from a small cut on his left cheek, and bloody knuckles, Rowan was intact. Except for the calamity that was his left leg. 

   Crystal felt bile rise in her throat as she stared at it. Most of the flesh had been blown off, leaving torn muscle, tendon, and bone visible. How would it ever heal? They would have to amputate it....

  She sensed movement and looked back to see Rowan turn his head to look at her. His lips moved but she could not hear him because of the ringing in her ears. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she quickly turned away from him and to the side, retching up her breakfast and then some. 

   After she'd basically vomited up her appendix, she turned back to Rowan, who'd begun to shiver violently. "How...bad...is it?" he stumbled almost breathlessly. His eyes roamed the trees above, sweat glazing his forehead and dripping down his temples. 

  "You're in shock, Rowan," she murmured, wiping at her own sweaty forehead. "We need to get you back to camp." She was vaguely aware of Summer soldiers retreating, some trying to pull their trapped comrades who hadn't turned into bushes, away from the scene. 

   Rowan said no more and laid his head back, passing out once again. Edgebriar, one of Rowan's best Thornguards, came rushing over, blood trickling down his cheek like tears from a wound in his forehead. 

  "He needs a healer, quickly!" Crystal snapped. Edgebriar took one look at Rowan's leg and swallowed. 

  "He'll need about five healers," he said gruffly. He quickly tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt and efficiently made a temporary wrapping for the prince's leg. Rowan was still unconscious as his guard wrapped his mangled leg. Crystal refused to watch, instead focusing on their surroundings. 

  Injured Winter fey were dragging themselves and their comrades back to camp. A few Summer soldiers were taken prisoner - including Lukas. Crystal met his eyes as Thistle dragged the Summer knight away. The look Lukas gave her could only be described as pure evil. 

  Crystal glared back with as much malice. 

  "I'll get him back to the camp. You go help the others," Edgebriar said, scooping Rowan up like he was just a boy. Well, Edgebriar was considerably bigger in height and shoulder width  than the prince.     

  Crystal normally wouldn't hesitate to put a faery in their place for ordering her about, but this was different. She knelt there for a few moments, watching Edgebriar carry Rowan across the clearing. "Take care of him," she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. 

  Then, she stood on wobbly legs and went to help Ash and the others haul their soldiers back to camp. 

                                                                                 **********

     The night was filled with screams and moans of agony throughout the camp. Several tents were filled with wounded soldiers, and the tents that were full, soldiers had to be set up outside on blankets. The warm bonfires clustered throughout cast a warm glow over everything. 

  Warm bread and ale was passed around, and the soldiers either declined because of nausea form the pain, or asked for seconds - and thirds. Crystal walked through the camp, her hand bandaged from a cut she'd unknowingly received from one of the pieces of the traps that had blown apart in the explosion. 

  She thought back to the battlefield and the events from earlier.  Normally, she would never have become squeamish around blood or wounds, but seeing them on Rowan....

  She shook her head to clear the sight and stopped before his tent. She hesitated, glancing at the two guards posted outside. One gave her a small nod and she ducked inside, holding her breath. 

  Inside, several faery lights floated about, making blue light dance about the room. Rowan lay on his cot, asleep, two ghostly healers finishing up their duties. One turned slowly and looked at her, breathing out and casting a cloud in front of his hood. 

  She had to hold back her shiver. After the ghosts left, she slowly approached Rowan's bed, trying not to make any sound as she walked, so as not to wake him. She knelt and her eyes automatically went to his leg, but it was hidden under the white sheets. She swallowed and reached out to smooth a lock of his hair away from his forehead. 

  At this, he stirred a little, swallowing dryly and slowly opening his eyes. He turned his head to look at her and she felt herself smile a little at the relief that shone in his blue eyes. She did not remove her fingers from his forehead and hair. "How do you feel?" she whispered. 

  He swallowed again. "It hurts," he croaked out. His voice was raw as if he'd been screaming for the past five hours. He probably had. It was definitely not the time to notice but she blushed slightly as her eyes fell on Rowan's bare torso, the light turning his skin blue. 

  "Do you want some ale?" she offered. She glanced around the tent for a bottle. Rowan coughed and shook his head. He was shivering again. Crystal felt his forehead and her heart rate spiked, "You're burning up!" she said, trying not to sound too panic but failing miserably.

  But in response, Rowan pulled the covers up to his chin, his teeth chattering. Crystal stood and leaned out of the tent to address on of his guards. "Get one of the ghosts, quickly! It's Rowan, he has a fever." The guards gave her a strange look, probably at being ordered around by someone who wasn't their master and because she'd addressed the prince by his first name. 

 But, after a few precious moments, one of the guards ran off to fetch one of the ghostly healers. Crystal ducked back inside and knelt beside Rowan again. He'd curled up into the fetal position, wincing, probably because of his leg, and shivering like mad. "C-can you...build a fire?" he whispered.

  She shook her head. "We can't have open fire in the tents, Rowan," she murmured back, continuing to stroke his hair. It was slick with sweat and grime, but she didn't care. The movement seemed to calm him a little, his shivers ceasing slightly and his demeanor relaxing.

 "Thank...I appreciate...you being here, Crystal," he said, his eyes still closed. "You're...the only one who's stayed...so far." 

 She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned in to gently place a kiss to his forehead. Worry spiked through her at how warm he felt. A Winter faery, much less a Winter prince, should never feel this warm. He sighed and relaxed even more, probably at the feel of her cold lips against his burning skin. 

  Crystal hadn't missed that he'd almost said the two forbidden words in the land of Faery. But she didn't give a shit. He never, and would never, owe her anything. She felt kindness and something else, something that made her heart feel warm and a lump force its way to her throat, causing tears to spill over her cold cheeks, that made her whisper...

"Always."