Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(93)

Good. Perhaps the king realized just how dangerous a little human midwife could be.

“At ease gentlemen,” she muttered to the guards. “I wouldn’t want you to faint in all that hot armor.”

Sorcha didn’t wait to see what kind of startled expressions they tossed her way. She stepped into Elva’s room and slammed the door behind her. Let them rot while they waited to see what she might do. Sorcha didn’t care. If they served such a horrible king, then they deserved the same fate.

Smoke curled around her waist like tendrils of fingers. Frowning, Sorcha turned and peered into the bright, sunlit room.

She had never been inside an opium den and had never desired to do so. Now, she knew what they looked like.

Red velvet hung in great sheets from their ceiling, tangling with golden wire twisted into leaves. Gemstones hung in sparkling tendrils from above. From floor to ceiling, smoke coiled around all the opulence.

Hookahs littered the floor, laying atop mountains of pillows and spilling liquid to the floor. Three faerie attendants lay stretched across the ground. Bark skin made them blend into the ground, their lips and fingers stained black by opium tea.

“Elva?” Sorcha whispered, using the faerie’s true name on a whim. “I am a midwife.”

“Midwife?” The bed rustled. The faerie woman pulled the curtains aside. “What are you doing here?”

“Your king summoned me.”

Elva ripped the curtains to the floor. Her grace disappeared under the haze of drugs. “You are in grave danger.”

“I am here to help you.”

“If he invited you here, then he knows precisely who you are. And he knows where you come from.”

The words made Sorcha freeze. The faerie had so many drugs in her system, that surely she wasn’t revealing that she knew about Hy-brasil. Or did she?

“I come from the human realm,” Sorcha said. “I am here to make certain you are healthy. It is what your king wishes.”

The faerie fell against Sorcha. “You do not understand. You do not know him. He wants to hurt me, so he brought you here. You need to go.”

“What is wrong? Elva, you need to speak to me. If there is something I might do to help you—”

Black tipped fingers pressed against Sorcha’s mouth. The faerie’s eyes were wild. “No. No there is nothing you can do to save me.”

“Save you?” Sorcha repeated. “Do you need saving?”

“What could be done for me was lost long ago, little human.”

The panic made Sorcha nervous. She held the much larger woman in her arms and pressed Elva’s head into her shoulders. Tears soaked through the fabric on her shoulder.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Sorcha pressed closer until their bellies touched. It had been nearly a month since she had seen Elva.

Smooth stomach met smooth stomach.

“Are you not pregnant?” Sorcha whispered.

“He wrapped me in silk and velvet. He called me his love and tore me from everything I loved.”

“Where is your child, Elva?”

“Gone. With everything else.”

“What happened?”

“Life.” The faerie woman pulled back, swiping at her tears in anger. “Life for a Tuatha dé Danann royal. There is nothing you can do to help me, midwife. I made a deal with a devil and take a snake to bed each night.”

“Elva—”

“I can help you.”

“What?” Sorcha shook her head. “I do not need help. I need to make sure you are healthy, and perhaps that is why your king brought me here.”

“He did not bring you here for me. He brought you here for a lesson to be learned. He does not believe that me losing the child was merely because it was my first and because faeries do not carry children well. You are his scapegoat. His reasoning behind the loss of his child.”

“I will not give you anything to prevent childbirth.” Fear twisted around Sorcha’s tongue, slowing her words into a slur.

“We both know that is the truth. But he has never cared for the truth.”

What a sad existence this woman lived. Sorcha tucked her arm around Elva’s side and nudged her back towards the bed. It was unclear whether the woman was speaking from the heart or a drug-induced panic.

Either way, Sorcha’s job was to heal. She couldn’t mend the rift between Elva and her king. She couldn’t even touch the pain that stained the woman’s soul. All she could do was get her settled in bed and quiet her mind.

She tucked the faerie into bed and smoothed her hair from her sweat slicked forehead. “Where are you from, Elva?”

“Cathair an Tsolas.”

“The city of light?” Sorcha smiled. “I’ve heard of the legends. It is a place constantly filled with the sun.”

“It sparkles when you look upon it.”

“Tell me of your city, Elva. I dearly love stories.”

Elva whispered tales of a magical city filled with Tuatha dé Danann and faerie subjects. She laced legends Sorcha recognized with truths that spoke of pristine streets and people wearing the most outlandish costumes.

All the while, Sorcha cleaned. She lifted the dryads from their stupor and handed them out the door to the guards. The men seemed surprised that she would dare lay a hand upon any faerie.