Page 72 of The Princess Tied

“Stop that! It fucking hurts!”

Oops. Bad etiquette.

She rolled and punched John, once, shakily. That hurt too.

Where were the arrows?

Her gaze dropped to his hands where he held three long, barbed, and bloody arrows.

“What did you do—”

Blackness crashed in and obliterated, everything.

* * * * *

Xander was not certain what John had just done, how he had done it… all that blue light flaring, but his bro had purple eyes now and Po was breathing easily.

Her face seemed at peace, despite the cursing and her writhing when John pulled out the arrows. Despite all the blood. He stared down at the pool of it on the stone floor by her side, smudged by John’s boots and knees.

He swallowed, shut his eyes a second and felt sweat roll down his face.

Being weak and useless at a time like this was rending him apart. His legs still wouldn’t work properly, though he was thankful to be able to cradle Po. She was what had sustained him—the thought of seeing her, speaking to her, loving her.

Moping was worse than being weak.

“Hey. John.”

John looked up from examining Po’s back, where he’d torn open her shirt.

“What did you do? And why are your eyes purple? And…” He gulped again, brushed hair from Po’s face. “Is she going to live?”

John didn’t answer immediately but he guessed it wasn’t simple to figure that out. He’d done something good, somehow, that much was clear.

“Fucking magic?” John stared at his palms, bloody though they were. “Yes, she feels like she will live. I can sense it, see inside her in a way. The damage is lessening. I don’t know how long this will last but that reverso door, or whatever it is, it took away my perfect killing, made me good at healing.” His lips twitched upward. “Gave me purple eyes too, I suppose.”

“Okay.” He nodded, watching Po breathe, the stir of her chest, the pulse at her neck. She was pinker when she’d been going rapidly white. “Magic.” He snorted softly, looked around the room, taking it all in. The people still alive and the dead. “That Storyteller had some, but the bad stuff. Your friends look shaken, but we should leave when Po is okay to be moved. I don’t like it down here.”

The faraway ceiling, the eerie line of doors, and the battle carnage, that would unsettle anyone. Bodies were piled on bodies. And he really did not put it past the Storyteller to spring back to life, even if his head was almost severed.

He frowned, wondering how they would move Po.

“I think we can go now.” John looked around at Ruth and Shades. “Are you two okay to get out of here? Po is going to live, but we should leave.”

“Sure.” Ruth was hand in hand with Shades and did not let go.

Neither did he let go of hers. “I’m ready. I don’t think we need anything from here but us?”

“No.” John straightened. “We’ll have to go slow as Xander still can’t walk?”

“Sorry. My legs are still part jelly. We can search their pockets.” He grimaced then nodded at the bodies. “For more antidote. But time will fix me. Can I ask you, Shades, how you resisted the Storyteller? I thought only I could do that.”

“Sure. It was easy, once I was told how his voice worked.” With Ruth, he headed for Xander. “I’ll carry you and Ruth can take Po. I really want to leave soon.” Shades shuddered, looking about. He waited for Ruth to gently take Po from Xander then moved in. “Awful place. How did I do it?”

Hand extended, he hauled Xander to his feet and steadied him.

“I turned down the volume on my synthetic ear, and my real one is deaf from an old battle wound.”

“Excellent thinking then. Good man.” He put out his hand for Shades to shake. “Give me a second to breathe before we set off.”