10. Saoirse

Saoirse

W hen Vane finally released him, Jephyr's body fell to the ground, lifeless and broken. The tendrils retracted, returning to the dragon's form, almost pulsing with a dark satisfaction. The air was thick with the scent of blood and death in the sudden silence.

The Darkwing turned its gaze toward me, eyes glowing intensely. Despite the horror I had just witnessed, I wasn't scared. He'd saved me, well and truly saved my life. There was no room for fear.

The transformation began to reverse, the shadows receding as the dragon form shrank and shifted back into the man I had first seen, his clothes somehow still intact. He stood before me, breathing heavily, his body trembling with the effort. The wound on his side was bleeding profusely, saturating the shirt he still wore.

With a pained grunt, I tried to push myself off the ground, not fighting him when he rushed over to help me. "You're hurt," I gasped out as I tried to put weight on my injured leg and failed.

"I could say the same to you," he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his. His shadows were dormant against his dark skin, his red eyes glowing in the semi-darkness as he slumped, a hand coming to apply pressure to his wound.

After a moment's hesitation, I grabbed his free hand, slinging his arm over my shoulder so that I could better support him. And if I was being completely honest, to support me, too, as I tried to put as little weight on my leg as possible. "We need to get you help."

"I'm fine," he said quickly, though his voice was strained. "Just… need a moment."

I helped him to a nearby tree at his insistence, where he leaned heavily against the trunk. Maybe he had some special Darkwing healing powers I didn't know about. I'd heard of the shapeshifters in the Feral Kingdom having similar powers. The world around us seemed to blur, the adrenaline of the fight fading away to the reality of our circumstance. "We can't stay here; we made a lot of noise. Someone is bound to come upon us," I said urgently, but I didn't try to lift him. "We will be killed if they find us near Jephyr."

"My shadows will alert me if someone is coming," he said, his words slurring slightly as he blinked his eyes quickly, giving his head a quick shake. He frowned, almost confused by his reaction. With a movement that looked like it took a thousand tons of effort, he lifted the hem of his shirt and I gasped when I saw the wound.

Dark veins radiated out from the point where the dagger had pierced his skin, a sickly sweet pattern spreading across his skin. "Poison," he muttered, his breathing coming in quicker gasps now.

My heart sank, concern clawing at my insides. "We need to get you to a healer. Now."

"No," he said sharply, his voice strained but resolute. "No healers. No one can know what I am."

"You've been poisoned ," I insisted, urgency in my voice. Why must men always be so stubborn? "You could very well die right here if we don't get you help."

"Then so be it," he replied, his eyes flashing with determination. "No one can know who I am, Saoirse. My people's safety depends on it."

"There are more of you?" I asked, shocked. Of course, it made sense that there would be, but I was still wrapping my head around the fact that the Darkwings were real. As much as I'd love to deny it, here was a living, breathing one right in front of me, and he'd just saved my life. But still, the thought of a whole kingdom full of Darkwings like him gave me pause.

Could they all do what he could do? Were they all as powerful? Or maybe they were even more powerful, a thought that might plague my nightmares that night. And why the hell was he in Lanthus?

"You don't have a choice!" I snapped. "If you die, then what? What happens to your people, then?"

He winced, a shudder of pain wracking through his body as beads of sweat dripped down his temple, his breathing labored, but he said nothing. Instead, he held out a hand, a silent gesture for me to help him up. I did, draping his arm back over my shoulder as we started toward the path. "Just take me somewhere I can rest," he finally ground out.

"Do you have magical self-healing powers I don't know about?" I mused out loud, grunting with the effort and the pain burning a fire in my leg, a wet trickle dripping down my leg, my shoes long lost in the chaos of the attack.

"No," was all he said, his face pinched in focus as he took step after step. With no idea where to go, I steered him toward the one place I figured we wouldn't be bothered. The bakery.

"Then how exactly do you expect not to die?" I voiced, my mind running a mile a minute as I bowed under the weight of the taller man.

He tried to respond, but his words slurred, his eyes beginning to droop closed, just the faintest hint of red peeking out from beneath his enviously long eyelashes. "I... can't..." he murmured, his steps faltering .

"Just a little further," I said, desperation creeping into my voice. Only a few more minutes and we would be at the bakery. I didn't know what I'd do with him once we got there, but at least I'd be able to think. If he passed out here, out in the open, I would never be able to get him in there by myself. It was well into the night now, and I could still hear the raucous celebration at the castle, along with the only healer I would trust enough to heal him. Even as I spoke, I felt his body go limp, his full weight suddenly bearing down on me.

"No, no, no," I whispered frantically, struggling to keep him upright. "Wake up, stay with me."

But it was too late. His eyes closed, his body sagging. I fell to my knees with a pained cry beside him as panic gripped my heart.

I couldn't leave him out here to die, not after he'd just saved my life. But who would help us? I couldn't just leave him here, where he might get discovered by any passerby. If my parents knew that the Darkwings were real, there would be hell to pay. He'd probably be murdered on the spot. I couldn't let that happen, not after everything he'd done for me.

I looked around, my mind racing, hot agitation bubbling in my chest, vicious and sharp. It would only take a few questions for someone to figure out what he'd done, what we'd done to Jephyr in those woods. We'd both be executed.

I had to at least try.

With all the strength I could muster, I latched my hands underneath his shoulders, heaving with all my might to try and drag him closer to the bakery. It was within my sight, and if we'd been walking, we could have gotten there. At the pace I was barely able to drag him, it would take much longer. Too long.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I laid him down gently, my tired arms sore from the effort, my thigh screaming at me to stop. My hands trembled as I assessed his condition. He was alive, for how much longer I wasn't sure, but his breathing was shallow, the dark veins of the poison continuing to spread ominously across his skin. The edges of the wound were tinged purple, and while I didn't know a lot about medicine, I knew that couldn't be good.

I frantically searched through my limited knowledge of healing—what I'd been able to glean by reading through books and eavesdropping on Xan's lessons—trying to recall anything that could help stave off the poison. I wasn't even sure what kind of poison it was, and the frustration at that almost sent me spiraling. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my desperation crushing me as I realized I wasn't going to be able to help him. There was no way.

A soft rustling sounded behind me, a pattering of footsteps, and I turned quickly, my body tensing as I prepared to defend us both. If he was going to get caught, so was I, and I would go down fighting.

But instead of another threat, a familiar figure stepped out from behind the nearest building, her beautiful face alight with worry.

"Saoirse? Gods, what the hell happened to you?" Xan rushed over to me, and I almost couldn't speak over the relief that flooded me at the sight of my sister. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted the Darkwing, her expression shifting from one of concern to shock. "Who is he?"

"He saved me," I said quickly, my voice shaking. In his unconscious form, his shadows were still, laying like normal tattoos on his skin. "But he was poisoned. He'll die if he doesn't get help."

"Saved you from what?"

"Jephyr," I said drily, and by the way her shapely lips flattened into a thin line, I knew she was recalling the history I shared with him. As my sister and best friend, she was the only one I had ever confided that encounter to. "I'll explain later, but for now, can you help me? You owe me one," I said, gesturing to my burned cheek, which was probably already obvious to her. I did my best to keep the bitterness out of my tone .

Xan didn't hesitate as she knelt beside him. Carefully, she lifted the hem of his shirt, her eyes widening at the sight of the dark veins spreading out from the wound. "This is bad," she muttered, her hands gingerly prodding around the edges of the injury. "What did this? I think I can heal him, but not here. We need to move him somewhere safe."

I nodded, my relief tempered by the urgency of the situation. If we could just get somewhere safe, she could help him. She could keep him from dying… right?

"The bakery," I said. "It's close, and no one should bother us there."

Xan stared at me, seriousness etched across her face. "Then we must hurry. He doesn't have much time."