A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(2)

The first time I exhausted myself on a particularly brutal burn victim, I thought my gift was actually gone for good—an inexplicable mix of relief and horror. When it finally returned, I told myself I was grateful. Grateful that when I was growing up, covered in welts, or had limbs cracked at odd angles, that I could heal myself before my mother or siblings could notice what my stepfather had done. Grateful that I could help those around me who were suffering. And grateful that I could make a decent amount of coin doing it when times were as tough as they were now.

“All right, Mr. Doyle, good as new.”

The older man shot me a toothless grin. “Thank you.” Then he leaned in conspiratorially. “I didn’t think you’d be able to save it.”

“The lack of faith hurts,” I joked.

He moved gingerly out of the room, and I followed him into the hall. Once he had left, Nora shook her head at me.

“What?”

“Too chipper,” she said, but her mouth lifted in a smile.

“It’s a relief to have a patient who isn’t on death’s door.” I cringed. Mr. Doyle was actually quite old.

Nora just snorted and refocused on the gauze in her hands. I slunk back over to the cots and busied myself sanitizing some surgical tools. I should have been thrilled at how few patients we had today, but the quiet was making my stomach twist.

Healing took my mind off of my brother and Halden. Helped to quell the misery that churned in my gut at their absence. Like running, there was a meditative quality to healing people that calmed my chattering brain.

Silence did the opposite.

Still, I’d never expected to be thrilled about a case of gangrene, but it seemed like anything that wasn’t certain death was a win these days. Most patients of course were soldiers—bloody, bruised, and broken from battle—or neighbors I’d known my entire life, shriveling away from parasites found in the meager food scraps they could get their hands on. That, at least, was a better fate than starvation. Parasites could be healed in the infirmary. Endless hunger, not so much.

And through all this pain and suffering, loved ones lost, homes destroyed—it was still a mystery why the Onyx Kingdom had started a war with us in the first place. Our King Gareth was not one for the historical tomes, Amber land was not known for anything but its harvest. Meanwhile, kingdoms like Garnet were rich with coin and jewels. The Pearl Mountains had its ancient scrolls and the continent’s most sought-after scholars. Even the Opal Territories, with their distilleries and untouched land, or The Peridot Provinces, with their glittering coves filled with hidden treasure, would all have been better places to begin the gradual crawl toward power over all of Evendell. But so far, every other kingdom had been left unscathed, and lone Amber was trying to keep it that way.

Still, no other kingdom fought beside us.

Meanwhile, Onyx was dripping in riches, jewels, and gold. They had the most land, the most stunning cities—or so I had heard—and the biggest army. Still, even that wasn’t enough for them. Onyx’s king, Kane Ravenwood, was both imperialistic and insatiable. But worst of all, he was senselessly cruel. Our generals were often found strung up by their limbs, sometimes flayed or crucified. He took and took and took until our meager kingdom had little left to fight with and then inflicted pain for the sport of it. Cutting us off at the knees, then the elbows, then the ears just for fun.

The only option was to keep looking on the bright side. Even if it was a dim, blurry kind of bright side that you had to bribe and coax to come out. That, Nora had claimed, was why she kept me around. ‘You have a knack for this, you’re optimistic to a fault, and your tits entice the local boys to donate blood.’

Thank you, Nora. You’re a peach.

I peered up at her, putting away a basket filled with bandages and ointments.

She wasn’t the kindest associate, but Nora was one of my mother’s closest friends, and despite her prickly exterior, she’d been thoughtful enough to give me this job so I could take care of our family once Ryder left. She even helped with my sister, Leigh, when Mother was too sick to take her to classes.

My smile at Nora’s kindness faded as I thought of my mother—she had been too frail to even open her eyes this morning. The irony that I worked as a healer and my mother was slowly dying from an ailment none of us could identify was not lost on me.

Even worse—and maybe more ironic—my abilities had never worked on her. Not even if all she had was a paper cut. Yet another sign that my powers were not that of a common witch, but something far stranger.

My mother had been sick since I was old enough to talk, but it had worsened these past few years. The only thing that helped were the little remedies Nora and I would put together—

concoctions made of the white canna lilies and rodanthe flowers native to Amber, blended with ravensara oil and sandalwood. But the relief was temporary, and her pain grew worse each day.

I physically shook my head to rattle the unpleasantness away.

I couldn’t focus on that now. The only thing that mattered was taking care of her and my sister as best I could, now that Ryder was gone.

And might never be coming back.

***

“No, you didn’t hear me right! I didn’t say he was cute, I said he was astute. Like, smart or worldly,” Leigh said, throwing a log on the dwindling hearth fire. I bit back a laugh and pulled three small bowls from the cupboard.