Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 230170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1151(@200wpm)___ 921(@250wpm)___ 767(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 230170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1151(@200wpm)___ 921(@250wpm)___ 767(@300wpm)
That was blood streaking the light brown strands—hair that matched the father’s. My gaze swept over the child as Delano circled the huddled group. One leg wasn’t lying right, twisted at an unnatural angle. “Open your eyes for me,” her father pleaded. A murmur of surprise rose from those who stood in the garden as they realized that the Prince was among them. “Open your eyes for your momma and me, baby girl. There’s someone here to help.”
The mother’s gaze darted around those standing there. I didn’t think she saw a single face when she uttered, “She won’t open her eyes.”
The child’s lashes were dark against cheeks absent of color. I could barely feel her pain anymore, and I knew that was a bad sign. For that kind of pain to ease so quickly and totally, things were grave. Atlantians, even those of the elemental line, were basically mortal until they entered the Culling. Any number of injuries that could fatally harm a mortal could do the same to them.
The mother’s gaze landed on me. “Can you help her?” she whispered, shuddering. “Can you? Please?”
Heart thumping and skin vibrating, I neared them. “I will.”
At least I thought I could. I had healed Beckett’s broken bones. I had no idea if that would happen now, but I knew I could pump as much warmth and happiness into her as I could. I feared that was all I could do. I worried the Healer had been right, and this child had moved beyond anyone’s ability. I just prayed that my touch didn’t manifest in the same way as it had in the Temple.
Casteel walked ahead, crouching beside the parents. He placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder as I lowered myself while Kieran had gone still, all except for the rise and fall of his chest. His nostrils flared as Delano whimpered, sinking onto his haunches at the child’s feet.
Casteel’s gaze met mine, and I saw it there—the welling grief. “Poppy…”
“I can try,” I insisted, kneeling across from the mother. The stone was hard under my knees as I tried not to notice how the child’s head hung so limply, how it didn’t seem shaped right. I started to reach for the girl, but the mother’s arms tensed around her. “You can still hold her,” I said gently. “You don’t have to let her go.”
The woman stared at me in a way that made me unsure if she understood me, but then she nodded.
“I just need to touch her,” I told her, feeling their shock, their uncertainty, and even the anger I thought had come from the Healer. I shut them out as I focused on the child—the too-pale child. “That’s all. I won’t hurt her. I promise.”
The mother didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move as I lifted my hands again. Inhaling deeply, I kept my attention on the child as I opened my senses wide. I felt…I felt nothing from the girl. Unease trickled through me. She could be deeply unconscious, slipping where pain couldn’t follow, but what I saw on the carriage wheel and the way her head appeared caved-in…
I had only ever healed wounds and bones, and only recently. Nothing like this.
I could still try.
Curving a hand around her arm, I swallowed hard at the stillness of her skin. That was the only way I could describe the feel of her flesh. I suppressed a shudder and let instinct guide me. Gently, I placed my other hand on her forehead. My palms warmed, and a tingling sensation spread down my arms and across my fingers. The child didn’t move. Her eyes remained closed. Becket had responded almost immediately when I touched him, but there was nothing from her. My throat thickened as I looked at her chest. Either her breathing was too shallow or she didn’t breathe—hadn’t been breathing. A slice of pain cut through my chest.
“Poppy,” Cas whispered. A moment later, I felt his hand on my shoulder.
I didn’t let myself feel what he was experiencing. “Just a few more seconds,” I said, my gaze returning to the child’s face, to the blue pallor of her lips.
“Oh, gods,” the father moaned, rocking backward. “Please. Help her.”
One of the wolven brushed against my back as desperation swelled.
“This is unnecessary,” the Healer stated. “That child has already gone into the Vale. You are doing nothing but giving them false hope, and I must say something—”
Casteel’s head lifted, but I was faster. My chin jerked over my shoulder as my gaze met the Healer’s. Static danced over my skin.
“I don’t give up so quickly,” I said, feeling the heat in my skin flare. “I will still try.”
Whatever the Healer saw in my face—in my eyes—he shrank back from, stumbling a step as he pressed a hand to his chest. I honestly didn’t care as I turned back to the child, exhaling roughly.