“I wonder, boy,” Master George murmured,
twirling his dagger, “if you’re the only one injured, can you still heal
yourself?”
“I—I don’t know,” Aaron stammered.
With two long strides, Master George
closed the distance between them. A sharp pain bloomed in Aaron’s stomach, far
worse than the effects of his healing magic. Master George stepped back,
empty-handed. Aaron gaped at his stomach. The knife stuck out from his torn
shirt, blood pooling around it. He grasped its wooden handle and clutched his
side, trying to draw on his healing magic without any luck.
“I can’t stop the bleeding!” Aaron cried.
He looked up at Master George. “I can’t do anything. Please, help me.”
Master George’s face twisted into a smirk.
“I know the truth about you. You’re no different than that wretched Lady
Florella.” He spat at Aaron’s feet. Then he opened a window and climbed down
into the garden below.
Aaron pressed his hands to his abdomen and
gritted his teeth against the pain. He reached the library door and attempted
to turn the handle, but he couldn’t get a good grip because his hands were
slick with blood. He rubbed his right palm on his pant leg until it was dry and
managed to turn the handle just enough to push open the door.
“Help!” he called into the hallway.
Immediately, his mother rushed around the
corner. What was she doing here? Usually, Nora was already in the courtyard
before Aaron woke up, training her squadron of combat mages.
She stared at him with her eyes wide.
“What happened?”
“Master George attacked me,” Aaron gasped.
Nora gestured to the servant who had
followed her into the hallway. “Go get a healer! Now!”
She led her son back inside the library
and helped him into an armchair next to the window. “Where did he go?”
“He’s in the garden.” Aaron winced in pain.
Nora’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be right
back,” she hissed before leaping out the open window. She barreled toward
Master George and sent a barrage of translucent daggers at him. He didn’t have
a chance to see them coming. They struck his back, and he screamed and crumpled
to the ground.
Aaron’s father rushed into the room,
breathless. A healer in long white robes scurried in after him. Jonathan
approached and squeezed Aaron’s hand. “You’re going to be okay, son.”
Aaron nodded but found that he couldn’t speak.
His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. His father scooped him up and
carried him to a blanket by the fireplace. Darkness consumed him.
This sounds really good. Pretty cover!
ReplyDeleteThank you! Happy reading! :)
ReplyDeletethe cover capturs the fantasy elements
ReplyDeleteThanks! My good friend Naomi Henry designed the cover. :)
DeleteSuch a good Book!
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you enjoyed it!
Delete