Forever Rule by Amabel Daniels

Author:Amabel Daniels [Daniels, Amabel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Finnigan couldn’t do anything else for the dimene’s bite on my leg, but he smeared a well-known numbing balm on the smaller scrapes on my other leg. I’d likely received them from harder clumps of frost that sprayed up from the ice slabs I formed for the corga to jump on when we were in the tunnel. Or maybe from the fight with the lernep and dimenes. Or… any number of close calls in this new life of being a tribis fae in the middle of the war.

“Did you find anything else in the rubble at the Somman palace?” I asked him. As he covered up the worst of my scrapes, I rummaged through his bag. He raised his brows but didn’t take offense that I helped myself to his things. I wasn’t sure what they thought of me and Kane bursting out of that tunnel on the back of an animal they’d never seen before. I hadn’t missed the awe and gratitude in their eyes and words, but I didn’t want to trespass through his things. Still, this was my forte.

“Here.” I thrust a jar of clove sap at him. “Put that on my leg and I bet I can get around.”

His brows hiked up high again. “This? From the rhym clove?”

“I’m a healer from Dran.” A frown followed my claim. That was hardly any introduction I could still cling to. My former life seemed so distant, all those experiences dusty and unreachable now since the grand and grave perils I’d faced after Kane broke the binding spell that trapped me there. “I was.” If Dran still stands. “Trust me. That’ll help me manage the pain.”

“No.” He took the jar and opened it, his word meant as a reply to my question, not my request. “Nothing at all but that restarn salve. The rest was nothing but dead bodies and ashes.” He shook his head. “As soon as the fighting ceased there, the rain came.”

“Is Amaias the queen, then?” a man standing nearby asked, hope in his eyes.

I bit back a laugh. She sure did have some loyal folk.

“Sadera is,” Kane answered bitterly.

“The last thing we need.”

I turned, seeking the speaker of that dry comment. Haroln, the older man, coughed. The woman missing an arm sighed and handed him a swath of kalmere, and he promptly gnawed on the leaves, breathing easier. They both looked to be Rengaen with that red hair, yet they wore garments of drastically different styles.

Shoving to my hands and knees, I tested out the strength of the clove sap Finnigan had applied. Numb and tingling. It would do. I approached the woman first, frowning as I gestured for her to sit on a boulder.

She eyed me nervously but obeyed.

“Haroln, is it?” I asked the man.

He nodded, still chewing as he watched me unravel the bandages from the woman. “Easy there. I found her runnin’ from the Somman’s soldiers before the rain came. She refused to follow them to the camps, and they cut her damn arm off.

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