Page 31 of A Healer's Wrath
“She was your friend.” It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
“She was killed because she was your friend.”
My breath caught. “Spirits. Why?”
I clutched the glass so tightly my knuckles whitened.
“They are sending you a message. Join us, or this will happen to everyone you love. Irina, you are a new Mage, a wild card, if you will. The balance among our number is . . . tenuous. We each felt your well of power when you were born. It was like seeing a stone tossed into a pond. When you manifested—when you Healed your Master—that felt like an entire mountain hit the water’s surface.”
My eyes moistened, and I swatted away tears before they could betray me. “I still don’t understand. What does that have to do with—”
“Listen to me. They want your power added to theirs to tip the scales. You are stronger . . . you are very strong. They will stop at nothing to bring you to heel.”
“But . . . the Queen?”
He nodded. “The Queen first. Next could be your Master or the other apprentices. They could destroy the Medica. And then there are your parents.”
My fingers lost their grip on the glass; it clattered to the floor. My eyes darted around the room, as if some corner of the chamber might offer solace. I gasped for breath, and the world closed in around me.
Danai dropped to his knees before me and reached up to grip my shoulders. I tried to pull away, but the last vestige of my strength fled, and I fell into his embrace.
He held me as I wept.
“Irina, some of us wish to help you, to teach you. Others want you contained. You will need more than Healing to protect yourself and those you care about.” He pulled back and searched my eyes. “Please, let me help you.”
Chapter sixteen
Irina
The Queen’s death was pronounced a heart attack, allowing the people of Fontaine to grieve without fear of a murderer clever enough to strike the royal household. The King, frustrated by his inability to bring justice to those responsible for his wife’s death, became despondent. I was summoned to the Palace almost every day. Most of the time, I listened while the King mourned or recalled happier times.
Danai remained in the capital. As the weeks rolled by, he became a fixture within the Medica. While he had no formal training in the Healing arts, he could direct his magic to tend simple wounds and sickness, allowing the rest of us to focus on more challenging situations.
The Mage’s medical knowledge may have been limited, but his magic knowledge far outmatched mine. Whenever one of us tired, he lent his strength through a trickle of power that restored the spirit. Our days had always been long, but now, with his help, they no longer ended in utter exhaustion. His presence morphed from one of comfort and support to a vital source revitalizing strength.
He rarely left my side. When my endurance flagged, his hand was there lifting me, shouldering the burden with me.
I allowed him to teach me more about my powers, too.
Danai taught me how to call balls of Light, flame, and water with ease, eliciting squeals of delight and rounds of applause from the few apprentices I allowed to watch my training. And yet, despite the wonders unfolding before me through our lessons, Healing remained my greatest passion.
Early one morning, as the sun peeked above the Spires, we crept around the side of the Medica and peered out at the endless sea of people. “I can’t believe how many people are here. It seems like there’s more every day.”
Danai grunted in agreement, then replied in my mind. “You know you don’t have to whisper. There’s a better way.” I shot him an annoyed glare, but he just grinned down at me. “Word of your Healing has spread beyond the western end of the country. People are now flowing in from every corner of the Kingdom. The King was even forced to post soldiers in the blocks around the Medica to maintain order.”
“I always wanted to help as many people as I could.” I shook my head and turned back toward the door. “I just never imagined anything like this.”
“Irina, you haven’t left the infirmary in weeks. You work from sunrise to sunset until you can barely stand. I can only bolster your strength so much. You need time to gather your own strength, to heal yourself. You still need time to mourn—”
“Stop. Don’t go there,” I said with more heat than I intended. “I’m sorry, Danai. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just . . . I’m just scared if I go down that path, I won’t be able to find my way back. I’ll lose myself in grief—and anger. I can feel it even now, churning and pressing, begging for release, like it wants me to hurt someone for killing the Queen. I’m scared, Danai.”
He gripped my shoulders and pulled me into an embrace. I breathed his scent as I pressed into his chest.
“I won’t let you get lost, but you can’t hide from your pain. If you try, you’ll end up hurting everyone you care about, not to mention yourself. I’ve seen far too much good in you to let that happen.”
I pulled back and looked up. His eyes were intense, pools of hazel with flecks of gold. They bled empathy.