Page 34 of For 100 Nights (100 2)
“By making me think you were going to die?” I probe, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
She shrugs again, but I catch the slight shaking in her hands. “It worked, didn’t it?”
I shift on my feet—well, try to, but my bad leg barely holds me up—my body aching from the essence-enhanced fight. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?” But there’s no heat to my words. How can there be when she risked everything to save me from becoming my father’s puppet? I know there was a point she’d accepted her death, but that did not dissolve her fight for me.
This woman.This angel. And every piece of her is all mine. I smile to myself—as if she could deny that truth now.
“So I’ve been told.” Her eyes scan the arena, always assessing, as guards begin flooding in. “We should probably deal with them.”
I turn to face the approaching sentries, many of whom look uncertain whether to attack or kneel. “Stand down,” I command,pushing every ounce of royal authority into my voice. “Your king is dead. You no longer answer to him.”
Most of the guards drop to one knee without question, but a few hesitate, glancing between me and Ariella. I raise a brow as one steps forward, his hand on his sword. “My prince, she must answer for her crimes. The king named her a traitor—”
“The king was wrong.” I cut him off, my tone sharp. “He was a sick man. Anyone who moves against her moves againstme. Is that understood?”
A tense moment passes before the remaining guards follow the rest and kneel. I dismiss them before turning back to Ariella, finding her watching me with an inquisitive, though unreadable, expression.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just—” She pauses, considering her words. “You’re different when you embrace your authority. It’s…not entirely unpleasant to witness.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. The chill from the last several hours is beginning to melt at her presence, something only she’s capable of accomplishing. “Was that a compliment, angel?”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the slight upward tilt of her mouth. “Don’t let it go to your big fucking head.” I enjoy this banter between us, and as much as I want to keep it going, to forget why the fuck we’re here, her expression grows serious again. So I wait until she’s ready to speak. “Now that your father so kindly announced my abilities to the entire realm, there’s something I want to try. If you’ll let me.” She fusses with her hands, her fingers tapping together.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re asking permission?”
“Don’t get used to it, prince.” She steps closer, grabbing hold of my wrist to pull me toward the reappeared tunnel. How the king hid it is beyond me. I'd guess the terra strand, using the sand to create a wall in the opening, but it didn't feel like his essence was abiding by any of the normal laws. It felt raw and untamed. Plus, he didn't possess the terra strand.
The cool stone against my back provides little relief from my aching body as I slide down the tunnel wall. Ariella helps lower me to the ground, her touch more gentle than I’ve ever felt from her. I wince as my leg screams in protest at even that careful movement.
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning my head back. Though we’re far enough in that no one can see us from the arena, enough light still filters through to illuminate her concerned features as she kneels beside me. “I'm pretty sure it’s broken.”
She nods, her eyes scanning my leg with an intensity that makes me wonder if she can see through to the bone itself. “I want to try something.” Her voice is uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’ve never really attempted healing anyone else before—except for Meridian, but that was different.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve never healed anyone? With all the essence you have?”
“No need to sound so shocked,” she mutters, though there’s no real bite to her words. “Why would I have ever healed someone other than myself? I’ve watched other healers work plenty oftimes. I understand the theory—they need physical contact with whoever they’re healing. The connection allows essence to flow between bodies.” She pauses, chewing on that damn bottom lip. “I think. I’m just not certain if it matters where we touch, or if I might accidentally hurt you more.”
“I don’t care either way.” And I mean it. After everything that’s happened—after what my father made me do to her—I'd trust her with anything she asked for. Even if she does somehow make it worse, I know it won’t be intentional.
She huffs but doesn’t argue, instead reaching for my hands. Her fingers are soft and warm against my skin as she positions her palms above mine. “Close your eyes,” she instructs in a soft voice. “I need to focus.”
I do as she asks, though I can’t resist peeking through my lashes to watch her when I’m sure she’s no longer paying attention. Her face settles into deep concentration as her nose scrunches in the slightest, reminding me of how she looks when she’s about to strike a killing blow. But her expression is softer now, almost vulnerable.
I feel the moment she begins drawing on her vital strand. Not because she’s using it on me…no, deep inside I canfeelher tugging on the strand. It's not a perplexing aspect of our relationship at this point. The surrounding air thickens with essence, making my skin tingle with its familiarity, as if in greeting. Through our joined hands, I sense her coaxing it toward her fingertips, silently urging it to bridge the gap between our bodies. There’s a strangeresistance at first, as if her essence is reluctant to leave her body for mine.
“Come on,” she whispers, more to her essence than to me.
The connection snaps into place so suddenly that we both gasp, and I jolt forward from the force of it. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, as if our essence shares one body. Her umbral strand was incredible, but they never sunk into my skin this deep—though I had a suspicion that they wanted to.
Every part of her essence flows through me, warm and devoted in a way that doesn’t make sense. This isn’t how it feels when other healers work on me. This feels right. Natural. Like her essence belongs inside me as much as my own does.
“Angel,” I breathe, unable to form more coherent words.
She doesn’t respond, but I sense the shift in intentions as her strand explores my body with purpose now, seeking out injuries. When it reaches my broken leg, the sensation intensifies. I grit my teeth against the strange pressure building in the bone, forcing myself to remain still against every instinct I have to pull away.
This is going to be painful.
