Bolin
I flew backward, hitting the wall. Bones shattered. My shoulder and my side screamed with sharp pain. Hundreds of thoughts shot through my mind as I blinked against blurred vision and struggled to breathe. First, the fake husband hid his air wielder and forbidden shadows from the sensor, Dario, with the obsidian bracelet. Second, Stella is more than a healer. Third, I’m alive.
My eyesight cleared, and I glanced around the destroyed room. Prince Fernando straddled the wielder’s body, his sword deep in the man’s chest. Dead.
“Stella,” I wheezed, looking for her but unable to move my head much.
“Bolin,” she murmured next to me before crawling in front of me. Her windswept brown hair sat in tangles on her shoulders, and worry lines creased her face. No blood or evidence of magical injury sullied her.
“You protected me,” she whispered.
I gasped against the tightness in my chest, but managed to say, “Of course.”
She sniffed, then ran her fingers down my cheeks to my shoulders. I winced.
“Stella!” Prince Fernando called, rushing up behind her. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, but Bolin is not.”
The prince eyed me, his brows furrowed. Blood spatter marked half of his face, but he appeared unharmed. I possessed no energy to speak or move. The all-encompassing agony of broken bones overtook my ability to do anything beyond lying there.
The prince turned away and addressed Dario. “No magic?”
I couldn’t adjust my position to observe the conversation, but Dario explained, “The obsidian. It absorbs the vibrations. I didn’t sense it!”
“Inform my father at once! Allow no more family claims within the estate. The healer is mine,” he corrected himself, “ours. I want no one else risking my safety, hers, or my siblings. Is that understood?” He ended his speech with a raised voice.
If he thought anyone wouldn’t catch his slip, he was sorely mistaken.
Stella wasn’t his. She was mine.
A trembling hand wiped the sticky liquid from my tunic. Oddly, I felt relief not knowing how terribly injured I was.
Stella
His collarbone protruded so far, the bump stretched out his tunic. Blood soaked the dark fabric. The urge to heal my friend overwhelmed my senses until I shivered. I needed to visualize every broken bit to mend it.
“I need …” What was the word? “… cut,” I said, raising my voice.
Rocco limped over, offering a dagger.
“You’re hurt too?” I asked as I accepted the blade.
He shook his head. “Just bruises. I’m fine.”
While I suspected he underestimated it, I attended to Bolin first. Using the borrowed knife, I carefully sliced through the dark blue linen. He gasped with every slight movement. How was he not screaming?
“I heal through the skin,” I murmured in Celestia.
“I know,” he said through tiny, panting breaths.
Once the clothing fragments fell to the floor, the full impact of his injuries made bile flood my throat. Bolin had a broken collarbone that had pierced through his skin, his shoulder was dislocated, his elbow appeared shattered, and broken ribs.
My fingers skimmed over his upper arm as my light begged to fix him.
“I’m going to heal you now,” I whispered.
“Alright,” he gasped.
I brought up my magic and pressed it into him. He stiffened under my touch. I guided the light to the collar bone first, and as it slid back into his body, Bolin let out a strained whimper. So much pain.
I forced myself to ignore how this hurt him and made the magic knit the bones together. I set the ribs next so he could breathe. As they fused, a shout escaped him.
That was when I realized he hadn’t screamed earlier because he couldn’t.
Fatigue weighed me down, but I kept going. The fragmented elbow required a great deal of concentration. So many shards.
My magic wanted to restore everything. Make the new connections stronger with minerals, repair the dislocation, replenish his blood supply, but I’d faint if I tried.
I leaned away and broke the healing connection.
Bolin stared up at me, his features glistening with sweat and lined in agony.
“It’s not complete,” I whispered. “The doctor will fix your shoulder and the bones will finish hardening in time.”
His chest heaved. “You’ve done more than enough.”
I curled forward and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. Overwhelmed in the moment, I blurted out the truth.
“I love you.”
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