The flaming funnel of death smothered Larek’s screams too soon.
Pulse thrashing frantically in her head, Serenna poured her entire strength into the fire. Her breathing turned ragged as the chamber flickered in her vision, faded slowly, like the beat of Larek’s dying heart.
Serenna heard Fenn stumbling to her. He reached out, pulling her away from the flames threatening to lick her boots. The reavers had fled, leaving the caverns as quiet as a tomb.
Fenn grimaced, clutching his ribs, weaving his fingers through hers. With a squeeze, the offered comfort anchored Serenna’s senses back to her body, cooling the firestorm in her blood.
The world came back into focus one breath at a time as her erratic heartbeat settled. Emerging from her trance, Serenna felt no whisper of remorse, no regret for her actions. I should’ve ended Larek sooner, before he harmed those starving humans. His death was bound to give life to others.
Wincing, Fenn wiped the blood away from his broken nose. He glared at Larek’s charred corpse, the splashes of fire dying around his blackened bones.
Turning back to her, Fenn retracted his fangs, giving her a crooked smile. Serenna cringed as his lip split further and then lunged forward to steady him as he staggered.
Something like reverent pride and awe glowed in his unswollen eye. Fenn hooked an arm around her shoulder, still grinning, his words mangled in his swollen mouth. “I’m in your debt, she-dragon.”
CHAPTER 38
SERENNA
Fenn transported Serenna to the safety of the Aerie with a handful of sickening warps. She wasted no time steering him upstairs to the bathing chambers to tend to his wounds.
When they reached the obsidian marble tile, Fenn stumbled, luckily catching himself on a standing towel rack. Serenna would’ve undoubtedly been crushed under his towering form if she tried to support him.
Sleet pelted the icy windows while humidity clung to the black walls. Heat from the vents whistled softly through the room, the temperature balmy like the shores next to the castle she’d once called home.
Serenna selected the rectangular tub instead of the central rain shower. Both were large enough to accommodate a druid’s unfolded wings. Or so Fenn had claimed.
This had better not become routine. I’ve had my fill of stitching males back together. The memory of the prince’s blood splattered over his bathing chambers in the Spire resurrected a rising tide of concern. Serenna recalled fumbling over Vesryn’s injuries—Jassyn wouldn’t be saving the day this time. She forcibly anchored those unhelpful thoughts away.
Turning a series of valves, Serenna filled the bottom of the marble bath. Steaming water spouted from the pipes, ushered in from hot springs within the depths of the keep.
“Sit on the edge,” Serenna ordered, grabbing a few cloths to submerge. “I can’t reach you when you’re hovering like that.”
Arm braced around his ribs, Fenn gritted his teeth. “We’re dressing your wounds first.”
“I’ll be fine.” Serenna raised her brows as he nearly lost his balance. “I’m not the one about to fall on my face.”
Clenching his jaw, Fenn’s unswollen eye flared as he focused on the gashes in her arms.
Serenna irritably huffed but humored him with the bare minimum of compliance, making a show of washing out her wounds in the sink. Pursing her lips to conceal a wince from the stings, she toweled off and pointed at the filled tub.
Fenn obediently shuffled over, sucking in a sharp breath as he unclasped his armor’s buckles and straps. The spiked leather tunic dropped to the ground in a clatter. Unable to fully lift his arms, Fenn swore, struggling to peel off his loose undershirt.
I’ll never get that leviathan up if he crashes to the floor. Serenna rushed to him. “Here, let me help.” Before Fenn could irreparably entangle himself in his braids and clothes, she guided him to the marble ledge of the bath.
He grimaced, lowering to sit. As gently as she could, Serenna rolled the fabric over his head, exposing lean muscles bisected with countless scars. Glittering rings—pierced into his nipples of all places—drew her attention straight to his chest like a crow transfixed by a shiny coin.
Fingers tightening around his shed shirt, Serenna ripped her gaze away from his carved flesh to assess his wounds. Worry began to crowd back into her thoughts. A collage of wicked bruises bloomed even darker than his skin, black veins distending and branching out like an infected web.
At the sight of the vicious damage, Serenna’s stomach lurched, his injuries more severe than she’d anticipated. He needs to be mended.
“File my fangs,” Fenn hissed, betraying his pain as he shifted on the tub. “I think they shattered a few ribs.”
Serenna swallowed back that he’d stated the obvious. “Let’s get your nose cleaned up first.” She tossed his shirt beside him. “I think I can set it. At least, I’ve done it with Essence. Your ribs…” Serenna’s words slipped along with her traitorous eyes.
This would be easier with magic. She studied the iron key swinging from its chain on Fenn’s bare chest, gears whirling in her mind. As far as she knew, Lykor had left that morning and wasn’t anywhere in the keep. If she could convince Fenn to unlock her shackle under the guise of healing, it might not be catastrophic if the prince appeared. Unless Vesryn rended Fenn on sight.
“She-elf, my nose is up here.”
Serenna yanked her gaze back up to a smirking Fenn and blabbered a response. “I was thinking about what to do for your ribs. You’ll have to instruct me on how to bind them.” She cleared her throat, her voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. “You know…" Serenna trailed off, kneeling beside Fenn to reach over the tub. “I could mend you if you’d untether me.” She concentrated on wringing out a cloth, trying her best to look indifferent before glancing up to read his response.
Claw locked around the key, Fenn’s reply sounded automatic. “Lykor doesn’t want you using your elf magics.”
Serenna’s correction was a little too defensive. “No, Lykor said he doesn’t want to sense me in his head.” She aggressively wrung out the towel with an unnecessary twist. “He’s been having you encourage me to use my elemental power, so it’s not about magic.” Serenna probed the boundary, wondering how far she could push him, hoping his current state would make him easier to prod. “It would only be for a moment—Lykor might not even perceive me if he’s in that remote jungle. You’re hurt and most likely bleeding inside.” Leaning forward, she rested a hand on his leg. “I could—”
Fenn tensed, grabbing her fingers. “Please do not ask of me what I cannot give, she-elf.”
Serenna opened her mouth to argue, but the regret weighing in Fenn’s eye cut her short. He gave her a squeeze as she tugged out of his grip.
Serenna rose to her feet, hope falling along with her heart. If saving himself from pain isn’t enough of a reason to remove my tether, what is?
As gently as she could, Serenna wiped the dried blood from Fenn’s face. “When do you think the reavers will retaliate after…what happened today?”
“That depends on how long they fight among themselves to choose another leader.” Fenn winced as she cleaned his split lip, working around his piercings. “But I’m sure they’ll think twice about crossing you again.”
His words were a crutch for a confidence Serenna had never quite developed in her abilities before. Heart lodged in her throat, her words came out as a whisper. “I would kill Larek again.” She nearly questioned her lack of guilt. “If I didn’t agree to use my power how he wanted, the reavers would’ve tortured you.”
“Thanks to you, I only wound up with a broken nose and a few cracked ribs instead of being burned to a crisp.” Fenn popped his knuckles. Serenna grabbed his wrist with an exasperated sigh when the motion ripped open his scabs. His mouth twitched as Serenna wiped the fresh blood off his hands. “Do you think our difference in height will be an issue?”
