Page 142 of Ashborne Phoenix

I looked at the door, uncertain why I suddenly felt nervous to enter the chamber. The woman awaited orders, and I stood there, mute. And so fucking weary. I clawed a hand through my hair. “Make certain she’s seen at least twice a day by the physician. She’s to be fed and bathed and given whatever she needs to heal, because she assisted my lady.”

“Yes, Dominus, sir, we—”

“Lord Ashford,” I snapped. “Go to your duties. I will only be with her for moments.”

The woman hunched as she curtseyed, as if I might strike her, but I opened the door and strode in, throwing the door closed behind me harder than I’d intended. It slammed and in the bed, Cali startled.

Shit.

This was a smaller chamber. One large room with a bed, dresser, chairs and table, and another couch and chair before the fireplace. A bath lay, cooling, in front of the cold hearth.

Cali was reclined—half sitting, half lying—on a series of pillows, bandages swathing her forehead and jaw, neck, shoulder, and arm on her left side.

She hissed when her body jerked in reflex because I’d startled her, but though she breathed quickly, her eyes—barely visible between the lines of bandage—caught on me and fixed.

“Vane—” She trembled. Her eyes cut to the door behind me, then back to my face. She was afraid to be alone with me.

That thought echoed something that unsettled me, but I didn’t have time. I folded my arms and glared.

“Tell me what you did for Grace,” I said, though I could barely get the words past my teeth, my jaw clenched so hard. “What spell did you place on her?”

Her eyes widened. “It’s all in stasis.”

“How?!” I demanded. “The wound looks good, but had to have penetrated layers—”

“I was trained,” she rasped, as if the fire had burned her throat. “It… It will hold for a time. A week? Perhaps two if she rests.”

I took a deep breath and braced to ask the question I’d been avoiding. The one I hadn’t even raised with Grace, because I didn’t want her to think about it if it hadn’t already crossed her mind.

“How much could you tell about the wound? About her… insides?” I swallowed, but made myself say it. “Her womb? Were you trained in those arts?”

Cali nodded slowly, but her eyes grew rounder, and her expression reminded me of a rabbit facing a wolf.

“I… I can sense a great deal. But… the cut was deep. It reached her organs… I did everything I knew to hold each in stasis. She should be safe until… until she can get help.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God—help.

“Did you sense… could you sense…” I cleared my throat. “Was it only Grace or—”

“There’s a baby.”

Oh God. Help us.

“And—”

“I’m sorry, Vane,” she said through stiff and blistered lips. Her voice cracking, though whether it was from pain or tears, I couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… there was no way. She was bleeding. Her womb was opened. I had to stop everything.”

And then it was me that was frozen. Stasis.

Depending on whom you asked, the spell stopped time on the matter it was attached to. Or some believed it ceased to be matter. Regardless, the magik stopped everything. It was perfect for the battlefield, and something I’d always wished could be replicated without the darkness of the Cruors. It could save lives. But, the same spell that kept the flesh from bleeding, or rotting, or carrying infection, also kept it from healing. From breathing. The spell couldn’t be used on the heart or lungs. It couldn’t be used on anything that fed other organs. But for a stab wound? To stop bleeding, or necrosis? It was excellent.

My mate wouldn’t bleed out. She also wouldn’t improve. Nothing would change. Nothing.

“Say it,” I said tonelessly. “I need to hear it. Say it.”

“Vane…” Cali murmured. But I glared at her. She swallowed hard. “She’ll lose the baby as soon as the magik wears off.”

Every muscle in my body went rigid in protest.