Page 38 of The Broken Elf King
“She’s… blessed,” the nurse breathed, staring at me in shock.
Blessed? She said that like it was a known thing. A person, a name.
“Mommy,” the little girl wept, sitting up easily like she wasn’t just covered in blood and dying moments before.
Tears ran down my cheeks as the confusion settled into me. Did I save her life? How was that possible? What was the purple breath?
Raife leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine. “I can’t save you from your own heart,” he breathed, sending shockwaves of confusion into me.
What?He can’t save me from my own heart? What the Hades did that even mean?
He stepped back. “Miss Baka.” Raife turned on the nurse, who was consoling the scared child. “I will need you to sign a sworn confession promising that you will keep the nature of my wife-to-be’s healing powers a secret. She is to become the next queen, and it is for her utmost safety that this does not leave the room.”
Dread settled in my gut. I wondered if maybe in my ignorance healing the child hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. Not that I’d known that’s what would happen, but also I wouldn’t change it if I did.
The nurse glanced from my hair to the king and back to the girl and nodded frantically. “Of course, my lord.”
Raife was pissed; he was flicking glances my way with his jaw gritted. Bending down, he looked the little girl in the eyes. “I healed you. Are you ready to go see your parents?”
The little girl nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes, and Raife slipped his hand into hers. “Miss Baka, can you please take little Oaklyn back to her parents in the waiting room? I’ll have a member of my staff bring those parchments by later.”
The nurse appeared shaken as she nodded and then pulled the girl from the room. When the doors shut, Raife stared up into the viewing room seemingly to make sure it was empty.
“Why are you mad?” I asked nervously, pulling at the fabric of my dress.
Raife sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve just put a target on your back, a target we don’t need.”
I swallowed hard. “What do you mean? What was that? Raife, tell me what I just did. You’re hiding something.”
He walked over to me, placing a hand atop each shoulder, and looked me right in the eyes. “You’re what they callblessed. You can perform theBreath of Lifeand bring someone back from the brink of death, or heal them from otherwise unhealable things.”
I didn’t have a reaction, I just blinked at him in shock. “Is that an empath thing? Your mom could do it too?”
Bring someone back from the brink of death? That wasn’t possible.
He released my shoulders. “No, it’s something else entirely. Something so rare it’s a myth. We don’t even have books about it, just stories.”
Well, it was shocking, but I couldn’t help but see it as a blessing, which was probably why it was named so. “How wonderful to be able to save someone’s life, Raife. This cannot be a bad thing.”
“It’s horrible!” he shouted, scaring me. “The blessed have only so many Breaths of Life in them before they give their own life and die. Each time your hair goes white, you’ve given one away. When the last strand turns, you willdie.”
I stumbled backwards, pulling my hair out in front of my face to see it. He was right, more had turned white since I’d saved the little girl. Way more than when I’d saved Raife. Maybe the more energy used meant the more hair turned white. The more of my life I just gave away.
“If you’d been around when I was fourteen… my family would still be alive.” He was angry, I could feel it. He was mad at me for having this gift.
“If I had been around, I would have saved them, you know that,” I pleaded.
His jaw set. “I know that, but if word gets around, you will be hunted. People will force you to heal family members, loved ones. The Nightfall queen herself could kidnap you in an effort to become immortal.”
My hands trembled. “I… I wouldn’t do that for her!” I snapped.
Raife shook his head. “Not even if she held a knife to your aunt’s throat? Or an innocent child’s?”
My stomach dropped. I… I would do anything for my aunt or an innocent.
“You should have told me,” I said frustratedly.
“I wasn’t sure,” he muttered. “I was half conscious last time, and like I said, they were only stories I’d heard as a child. I thought your one strand of hair was from stress.” Reaching out, he fingered the lock of my new white hair. “Now I see it’s not.”
