Page 113 of The Trials of Ophelia
Ptholenix’s wings set the room alight as he tested them. Beside him, Gaveny’s ocean light spilled around the chamber floor. Together, they took the form of a glowing sunset against the waves. My own golden light burned along with it, Bant’s consumed by working to heal him.
Though questions continued to bloom, those sleeping sparks of our power emerged. As I watched Bant shiver in his pain and felt my own light flare, I longed to restore this ether, despite my doubts.
Fate had clipped our wings before. I hoped she did not treat hers in the same way.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ophelia
“She’s been out for a whole day.” That voice…I recognized it. But it sounded far away.
Tremors wracked my body. I tried to curl my knees to my chest but wasn’t sure I actually moved. Every part of me was heavy.
“I know.” The second voice soothed the fear rioting in my gut.
“Santorina said her arm is healing.” Santorina…Rina…she was here? Why did worry slice through me at the reminder of my friends? “She should be awake.” Concern turned the first voice guttural.
“She will be.” The second voice sounded uncertain. I wanted to appease it, but it was all blurry.
“The wound needs to be rewrapped.”
“I know!” the second voice snapped.
For a moment, one of my leaden limbs got lighter. A gentle pressure on my arm.
“It looks better.” The second voice again, a note near pleading, like it was trying to convince itself.
“It does.” The first voice sighed.
Something fluttered across my forehead, a gentle touch. “This is my fault.”
My fault…
The self-deprecating tone called to me, and I fought through the muddled, sticky tar of unconsciousness to reach it. Sense tumbled back into my body in slow spurts as I blinked my eyes open.
Tolek was leaning over me, head bowed against my shoulder, hand holding my own. Rock walls curved around us, orbs of mystlight providing streaky illumination that frayed the edges of the room.
Wherever we were, it was freezing. Despite the heavy fur blankets draped across me, I shivered.
“My fault…” Tolek mumbled again. His voice was so broken and mournful, so etched with hatred, it helped me find my own.
“It’s not,” I croaked.
His head snapped up, eyes red as they bore into mine as if unable to believe I’d spoken.
“Thank the fucking Angels.” Tolek brushed matted and sweaty hair from my forehead.
“How do you feel?” The second voice was back, and I placed it now.
“Malakai?” He stepped out of the shadows in the small chamber, frame blocking the mystlight. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the relief from the brightness, and his harrowed expression came into view. “What are you doing here?”
My voice was hoarse. Tolek uncapped a canteen and helped me sit up so I could drink, my head spinning. I squeezed my eyes tight, and when I opened them again, I could make out more of the room. A small fire crackled in a wood stove in the corner, but it must have been mystlight because there was no smoke in the room. A pile of thick fur throws sat at the foot of my cot, and a table held medicinal supplies I assumed Santorina used on me.
“How are you, Ophelia?” Though Malakai hadn’t answered my question, his sounded so sincere, inquiring about everything we’d been through, not only how I was physically after waking.
“I…confused.”
The events leading to my unconsciousness came back to me in flashes. The queen ambushing us at the trench. Jezebel using her power to command fallen soldiers. Asking Tolek to cut the poison from my arm.
