Page 47 of Wings of Starlight

Milori leaned closer and murmured, “Will you be all right alone for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” she said encouragingly. “Go.”

He nodded, gratitude plain on his face. Within a few moments, he’d flitted across the sickroom floor and begun speaking with another healer in low tones. Every now and again, he cast a worried look out at the slumbering fairies.

Yarrow, who had been fussily arranging the blankets and pillows around her, said, “He’s been in here every day, you know. Are you warm enough?”

Clarion tore her gaze away from Milori, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. “I am, thank you. Has he really?”

Yarrow nodded. “There’s nothing he can do, but…”

But he feels responsible,Clarion filled in. She knew that particular feeling well. “I know he cares a lot.”

“Yes. He’s beloved in Winter.” Yarrow paused for a moment, as if choosing her next words carefully. “I’m glad he found you. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him so…hopeful.”

Clarion tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She regretted it when she felt her skin warm with a blush. “It’s nothingI’vedone.”

“As you say.” She smiled knowingly. “Well, let’s take a look at you.”

Clarion let the blanket slide off her shoulder and offered her arm. The sight of the blood made her stomach turn, but she had not inspected the wound closely. The torn fabric of her coat clung to her skin, concealing the worst of the wound from view.

Yarrow clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You can’t remove your coat, so I’m going to need to cut the sleeve to get a better look.”

Clarion cringed. Petra was going to kill her for brutalizing her masterpiece this way, but that was a problem for another time. “That’s fine.”

Yarrow nodded and withdrew into another room in the clinic. Here in the main room, it was dark and cozy in the candlelight. Everything sparkled in the light refracted through the icicles dripping from the ceiling. The shelves lining the walls were cluttered with books and kettles, acorn shells filled with tinctures and sea-glass bowls of dried herbs. The air smelled earthy and green. Until now, Clarion had never realized just how many things grew in Winter. How had anyone ever believed it was devoid of life here?

She let her attention drift back to Milori, who had begun assisting the other healing-talent. They moved from bedside to bedside, helping each fairy drink sips of water. Her heart fluttered with a terrible fondness. How had she ever thought him cold, even for a moment?

A few minutes later, Yarrow returned with a woven basket, a stone mug that steamed in the cold, and a delicate set of fabric shears. She cut away the blood-mottled sleeve, and Clarion hissed in pain as the wound was exposed to the freezing air. Yarrow set down the scissors on a side table with a clack and bent down to inspect her more closely. She turned Clarion’s forearm carefully this way and that. “It’s clean, but it’s fairly deep. I’m going to need to stitch it for you. It should heal quickly, but you’ll need to keep a wound dressing on for tonight.”

Clarion felt a small measure of relief that she would not have to explain away her injury or commit to the questionable choice of wearing long sleeves in Summer. “All right.”

Yarrow rummaged through a basket and procured a thin hooked needle, as well as a poultice of juniper, usnea, and linseed wrapped in a leaf parcel. She worked in silence, cleaning and suturing the wound. Clarion stared resolutely at the wall, willing herself not to flinch with every tug of the thread through her skin. When Yarrow finished slathering on the poultice and applying a bandage, she handed her a mug.

“What is this?”

“Balsam fir and wintergreen,” Yarrow said. “It will help with healing and inflammation.”

Clarion brought the cup to her lips. It smelled resinous—and tasted it, too. But it warmed her hands, and right now, that was all she could ask for. “Thank you.”

Yarrow gave her a stern look. “Try not to irritate the wound before it closes. Don’t do anything strenuous.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll send you home with this poultice, too. Apply it once per day.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t forget.”

Clarion could see how Milori allowed himself to be fussed over. Yarrow was quite forceful. With a laugh, Clarion said, “I won’t.”

“Good.” Yarrow studied her pensively. “I hope you’ll come back soon, Your Highness—although maybe nothere. There’s a lot to see in Winter that has nothing to do with that dreadful lake.” She paused, and her expression brightened as something occurred to her. “Milori is a very talented ice-skater, you know. I’m sure he’d teach you.”

Clarion beamed. “I would love that.”

She just had to figure out how to stop the Nightmares before Elvina’s plan took shape. She could not abandon the winter fairies to the Nightmares. She refused. That conviction filled her up with a determined fire.

As soon as Yarrow moved on to the next patient, Milori reappeared at her side. “How are you feeling?”

Clarion offered him a small smile. Yarrow had cleaned the blood from her skin. Now, all that remained was a neat line of stitches. She caught him studying it, a lock of white hair falling out of place as he tilted his head. She resisted the urge to right it.