Chapter Thirty-Five
Ash
No guards came for me as I walked back across unseelie land. Maybe she didn’t have any left.
As we passed the cottage, I considered running to grab something that could help. But it was too dangerous—we couldn’t stay here any longer than we needed to. Instead, as I strode into the forest, I fumbled with my shirt, pulling it off until I could wrap Lonan’s weakly trembling body in the cloth.
“I’ll get you to Nua and Gillie,” I said shakily. “You’ll be okay. I promise, Lonan.”
Then I ran. I was terrified that I was jostling him too much, but I needed to get there fast. He’d been stuck like this for too long, and I had no idea how quickly a bird could bleed out after having a leg torn off.
The sidhe door opened as I crashed through the trees, Nua and Gillie running out to meet me.
“Please help him,” I gasped, dripping with sweat from my sprint through the forest. “She—His leg—”
Nua took the bundle from me, his lips thinning into a grimace as he stared down at Lonan. He knelt and gently set him on the ground, Gillie crouching down beside him.
“What happened?”
“She bit off his leg,” I choked out. “He was shackled to her wrist as the blackbird.”
“He needs to shift back,” Gillie said, looking up at me with grim eyes. “He’s been like this for too long.”
“C-can he?” I fell to my knees. “He’s injured—”
“It will be very hard, but he has to. Try and get him to, Ash.”
I pursed my trembling lips and leaned down closer to Lonan’s fragile body, clenching my hands in the dirt.
“Shift back, Lonan.” My eyes were burning. “Please. You need to shift back. It’s me. It’s Ash.”
I jumped when black smoke curled in the centre of my shirt, but it was slower and fainter than all the other times I’d seen him shift. After a few seconds the broken bird vanished, replaced by Lonan’s long, lean frame—minus a leg.
There was nothing below his right mid-thigh. I swallowed convulsively as I took in the raw viscera, the bloody stump, the jagged rips into pale flesh that only sharp teeth could make.
Lonan was white, skin drawn too tight over his bones. He was panting so hard that each breath sounded like a snarling beast. His eyes were wide with terror and pain, gazing unseeing into mine—until he looked down at what remained of his right leg, and promptly passed out.
“Let’s get started then,” Gillie said as he knelt beside Lonan, voice grim. “Who knows what kind of diseases the Carlin stores in those rotten teeth.”
“C-can you make him a new leg?” I got out, clenching my hand in Lonan’s. It was limp in my grip. My heart squeezed painfully when I noticed the acorn necklace around his throat.
Gillie nodded. “It’ll take time. We have to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected until it’s ready.”
Nua jumped up. “I’ll get the salve. We won’t let him—We’ll do everything we can, Ash. I promise.”
I nodded, my chin trembling and tears dripping from my eyes as I stared down at Lonan. He was so pale—even more pale than normal. Dark shadows marred the delicate skin under his eyes. His lips were white, skin drawn too tight over his fae-sharp bones.
“We need to move him inside,” Gillie said after inspecting the gaping wound. “Treat the wound.”
I quickly swiped at my eyes as I nodded, standing up on shaky legs. I grasped under Lonan’s arms as Gillie grabbed his legs, the skin around his eyes tightening as he gripped the back of Lonan’s thigh above the jagged end.
Lonan woke only briefly to cry out in agony as we heaved him up and carried him inside. He was already unconscious again as we set him on the floor beside my pallet of furs. Blood gushed from his thigh, and Gillie quickly grabbed blankets to stop it seeping into the floorboards. He ripped off his belt and used it as a tourniquet, pulling it tight around the top of Lonan’s thigh.
He held another blanket to the wound, stemming the blood. When Nua appeared from the kitchen with salve and bandages, Gillie worked quickly to coat the raw muscle and tissue once the bleeding had slowed enough.
“Glad he’s unconscious for this bit,” he muttered. “This wouldn’t feel good if he was awake.”
He wrapped the stump tightly in bandages, cutting through the remaining leather of Lonan’s trouser leg to cover it completely.