“It’s an innate force in the fae,” he answered in that bored, flat tone. “To use it on a wound such as this or from a knife is simple. You only imagine the injury being stitched together, and it is done.”
“Is that how you healed Dax, then? When Kakias attacked him at Ricordan’s manor?”
“Yes, though that wound was inflicted with something much more lethal than a dagger. That time, I had to pull out the toxins. Deadly enough ones that a fae of typical power wouldn’t have been able to heal it.”
Arrogant prick. Of course, he had some deep wealth of magic. I was loathe to admit Dax only lived because of this immortal creature and that seemingly endless power.
“Why is yours so much stronger?” I asked, shifting so the light hit a new area of the wound, a dozen fresh ash-white splinters illuminated.
“My what?”
“Your magic.”
Lancaster stiffened, and my gaze shot up. His eyes were narrowed on me. I straightened, wiping my hands. “Why isyourmagic—and your sister’s—so much more powerful than a typical fae?”
He dragged his tongue over his teeth. Ground his jaw. And?—
“Why aren’t you answering, Lancaster?”
Nothing beyond his nostrils flaring as I said his name and hatred pooling in his dark eyes.
“It’s related to the Gods and Goddesses you’re blocked from speaking of.” Somehow, the fae siblings’ magic was connected to them. That was an interesting fact I’d have to tell Ophelia later. It was also one to be wary of, given we still didn’t know how the gods were involved here.
I continued my questions, seeing what hewasable to say. “Does fae healing magic work on things like disease? Or common illnesses?”
Lancaster relaxed a touch. “My kind does not suffer from them, and we haven’t been around humans in the correct capacity to test it.”
Because when they were, the humans were chattel to them. I tempered that response. He could talk about the magic, but not its origins. “Is healing considered a unique gift?”
“You have many questions,” he dismissed.
“I worked hard to hone my skills. To become reliable and trustworthy with the lives of others.”As my mother was, I didn’t add. I wouldn’t give him that piece of information. “I only wonder if what I worked so hard to do comes naturally to your kind.”
“For most, yes. To small extents usually, but Mora and I are fortunate that healing runs in our family line.” His words were tight, but it appeared he was trying to force them out. To sharesomething. “We have stronger abilities than most in addition to our own unique gifts.”
Blessed by the Goddess. We’d have to figure out what that meant exactly.
I plucked another small splinter from his side, the ridiculous number of muscles across his abdomen flinching. “I’ve gotten most of the large ones out,” I said.
Lancaster grunted as if to sayI have nothing but timeand reclined on his hands. The wood groaned beneath him, but I tried to ignore the taut pull of those stupid muscles. He was a beast bred to hunt. The strength, the canines, the speed and grace were all weapons that could end my life in a moment.
Perhaps I was a fool to help him. I should leave the splinters, allow him to suffer for all the blood his kind spilled. For all the humans they slaughtered.
“I know you’re considering it,” he said, deep voice slicing through my trance with the wound.
“What?” I feigned nonchalance and dove back into the carnage.
“You’re wondering why you’re helping me. You’re contemplating the repercussions of leaving this wound to fester, of letting me bleed out.” He paused, eyes burning into the side of my face. “Or perhaps you’re contemplating stitching it up with that thread your Bodymelders make and healing me with the splinters still inside so I will never access my magic again. That would be particularly cruel, but you are a human after all?—”
“What does that mean?” I snapped.
“It means humans are callous.”
I scoffed. “Some humans may be, but certainly no more than you heartless, unforgiving immortals.”
Lancaster mimicked my scoff. “Your kind lives such short lives, you don’t truly understand the rushes of emotions you get. Everything is felt so intensely, but for barely a wink oftime. You cannot deeply understand the wordsheartlessorunforgivingin a matter of decades.” He spoke so casually that I could barely believe the claims he was making aboutmykind. “Your decisions are emotionally-driven and passionate, but you lack understanding of those things and therefore do not truly consider the consequences.”
“And you immortals—who care so little of life and beauty that you would slash countless human throats—understand consequences?”
