A Court Of Shadow and Blood

☆ Crown of Midnight ☆

But when he questioningly followed the wraith towards the building, an awning stretching out with bright blue and yellow fabric that shadowed part of the road, he was not expecting Elain to stumble out, blood coating her shoulder and hand where she held something against it.

His eyes widened, and he caught her before she could fall. Her normally warm skin was cold and impossibly pale, honeyed brown eyes blinking too fast for him to register anything beyond pain in them. Her hand clasped his as she settled on just closing her eyes, her thin fingers feeling too cold. He barked for someone to fetch the nearest healer before settling her in the middle of the road, where the sun could heat her. She seemed beyond words.

"Who took the arrow out of her wound?" Cerridwen called, and Azriel removed the bunched up fabric that was pressed there. He searched hard through the fresh torrent of blood, and breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn't hit anything vital.

A male stepped forward, bottle-green skin seeming to shimmer in the light. "I pulled it out."

"Can I see the bolt?" Azriel asked from the ground, wings twitching as Elain mewled with pain. He pressed the already-bloodied fabric into her shoulder once more and she fell silent, face ashen and tight. Azriel's brows furrowed with worry. It might not have hit anything important, but she had spent too long on the side, bleeding out while the fight occurred.

The Velaris male frowned but waved at some young boy who was a mirror copy of him. He scampered off and returned within seconds with two ruby-red shafts, blood coating his small green hands. The father spoke again. "There was no poison, but the tip of it is coated in faebane if that was what you were wondering, Spymaster." Cerridwen inspected the bolt and nodded confirmation for the male's words.

Another sigh of relief, thought slightly tighter. He scanned Elain. She was pale and withdrawn. Still not a good sign.

He was about to stand and take the female to a healer when a faerie with berry-colored skin and long midnight tresses rushed into the crowd, skidding to a halt next to the female's body. Her arms were laden with tins and ointments, and she crouched next to him, careful not to spill her load.

"I am the healer you called for," she explained briefly. Her eyes surveyed Elain critically and she motioned him to the side. Azriel nodded at the question in her eyes, and the faerie's spindly fingers-each one a joint too long-began opening her salves and applying them thickly. Elain's bloodless lips parted in a gasp.

Cerridwen knelt and held her down as she tried to kick. Azriel held her other side, allowing the healer to work.

The female dragged a cerulean-colored eye to the Spymaster. "I think you already know this, but the arrow didn't hit anything important. She'll be stiff, but most likely fine in a few days once you get the residual faebane out of her system." She settled back on her haunches after a moment, wiping her hands on her clothes. "If you want, you could have your court healer-Madja?-heal her. Again, she'll be stiff, but for a much shorter time."

Azriel gathered Elain into his arms when Feyre arrived.

She ran forward after winnowing in, her boots slapping against stone.

"Thank you," she said gratefully to the healer. "What's your name so I can give you a gift?"

"I am Malin. But no gift is necessary. You, the wraith, and the other female saved us today." The berry-skinned female gathered her things and set off with a nod, there and gone within what felt like seconds. The street around them began to resume, buzzing with activity after the attack. Someone grabbed a broom and pan and began to sweep the dirt and pottery from the ground, a few of the younger faeries hiding in the shadows between houses and watching from afar, clearly shaken by the encounter.