SWNOVELS Chapter Chapter Sixteen - Ronan
A/N: Please note that this chapter is written from Ronan’s POV.
Once upon a time, I had a lover.
Granted, we were mere children. Holding hands or kissing on the lips weren’t vile things to us, as they were to the adults. The humans did it freely, after all. Why couldn’t we?
The answer had been simple. It was because of the elves.
Pointy-eared, magic-addicted fiends with no self-control or care for others outside their own kind. In the infamous War of Undying, the elven queen had abandoned the fairy king on the battlefield—breaking centuries of peace between our people—and he was slain in cold blood.
After that moment, we lost face forever, becoming enslaved to these hellish creatures with indecisive pupils and a whorish tendency to lust after anything with even a glimmer of magic inside it.
Because of the elves, I’ve never been able to love again. Call it what you will, but the love of my six-year-old self was pure and innocent, and a love I won’t ever be able to experience again. Not after the elves raided our village, stole the young females, and slaughtered them for their magic, like animals. Tossing their bodies aside after stripping them of what they consider “valuable.”
My lips curl. It’s strange that this history resurfaces as I hover over Ramiel’s mangled and swollen arm, punctured from some kind of beast. Or perhaps that elven swine did it herself. I don’t care deeply enough for the prince that this deep-seated rage should resurface, but I can’t help but imagine one of our kind laying in his place, breathing shallow breaths, not knowing what hit them.
The puny thing next to me cradles her arms around her chest defensively, almost as if acting the innocent one here. The nerve.
“Move,” I say, gritting my teeth. She just stares blankly at the prince on the ground, lost. Her mindlessness makes me borderline bloodthirsty. “If you care about this guy, move.”
Finally my words register, and she steps back to allow me to look closer at his body. After many battles fought with Xavelor, I know a thing or two about caring for the injured. I have my capsules of rare fairy magic—the stuff I wasted on the elf for the lamest reason—that can draw out magic power and suppress afflictions brought on by physical or magic damage.
“Can you really save—”
I growl to shut her up. She snuffs heavily.
I’m painfully aware that very little magic stirs at my center. Years of isolation from the forest weakened me magically, and I know the elf belittles me because of this. Probably even assumes I’d rely on the dark magic coursing through the tainted air of the palace. But drawing from it would be taxing on any magical being, and it might also harm Ramiel more than help him, so that’s out of the question.
I stare at his arm as it turns purple under the sun, blood still oozing from the four little volcanoes stippled along his forearm. If Ether hadn’t desperately called out my name, I’d be paying her back for her carelessness by taking her life.
"What in Arioch happened here?” I bark, glancing back at the thumb-twiddler.
“It’s not my fault. He went after it on his own,” she responds defensively, walking around to Ramiel’s head.
She kneels next to me, and that toxic elf stench rises off her like something rotten. Somehow, Pluto’s natural cologne had been at least bearable, perhaps due to the thick presence of pure magic in the forest. In the palace, the scent is as pleasant as decaying flesh.
Don’t even get me started on how that elder elf smelled.
“Went after what?” I finally ask as I move to retrieve some medical tools from my satchel. “A shadow? We both know Ramiel isn’t adept at fighting.”
“Hey,” Ether says in a tight voice. Curious, I look up at her. She appears to be genuinely concerned.
Barf.
“I’m not saying he won’t get better,” I allow, “just that he’s not good at the moment. It’s your first day, come on. Why would you let him tackle something he isn’t ready for?”
“You don’t think I tried to stop him?” Ether raises her voice now. Her eyes flash down to my alignment of ointments and cloths. Human-made remedies. She twitches her lip and her eyes turn crimson. “You think your sappy fairy crap will actually heal a klopse bite?”
Ah, so he provoked a klopse—the creatures are notoriously known for their fatal bite force. And the brainless elf just sat and watched it happen. My teeth grind together.
If another prince dies in my presence, I’m sure to take the blame. The king wasn’t so happy when he heard how Xavelor met his death. I barely escaped his wrath, and only with the promise that I’d care for his second son—the one no one knew about.
What a pain this is becoming.
I ignore the elf’s slander and lift a flat glass container of antibiotics in one hand. The stuff works wonders on humans, makes them believe it can cure crazy illnesses. Pressing my forefinger into the green paste, I dig out a generous helping and scrape it onto my thumb. I slide my fingers under the bloated arm of the unconscious prince and hover the dollop of ointment over the deepest part of the wound. Warm, gushing liquid covers my fingers from the other side.
The klopse bit him all the way through his bone.
I shoot Ether a vicious look and she doesn’t respond. Her eyes are glossy with worry. Like she has the right to care.
“Did you at least excavate the damned creature’s magical core?” I say through clenched teeth.
Ether laughs, but it’s a foul sound. “What? You think I’d leave it behind or take it for myself?” She nods to Ramiel, her face turning a slightly warmer shade. “I... gave it to him.”
By way of mouth, as is customary, of course. Any magical creature in her position wouldn’t bat an eye about the transfer, but I can tell she’s a little flustered by it. A human would consider it romantic—our kind not so much.
If it weren’t for the situation, I’d rub salt in that wound. Make her squirm. Play on her emotions.
Ramiel winces and lets out a short, breathy grunt. His eyes twitch open just a little, and his eyes search, though it appears to be difficult with the sun’s brilliance above.
“E...ther...”
The elf’s cheeks flush at the mention of her name.
Oh brother.
“Shh,” I say to the prince. “Don’t move. I’m going to apply the medicine, but you must stay still. It’s going to hurt.”
“Hurt?” Ramiel doesn’t seem to understand the word.
I press my thumb into the flesh rippling around the deepest puncture, smoothing it over the swelling purple mound. To my surprise, Ramiel doesn’t flinch.
His eyes open wider now, concentrating on me. I dip my finger into the ointment and tend to the other bumps.
“Ronan,” he says, his voice icy, cautious. “What are you doing here?”
Ether huffs a laugh through her nose.
I smile, raise my hands, and stand. “Sorry, am I not needed here, Your Highness?”
Ramiel’s eyebrows twist on his dirt-covered forehead, like his thoughts are appealing to unspoken curiosities. Finally, he blinks hard, then looks at Ether.
“Ether, you’re here, too?”
Now I’m the one holding in laughter. At least my presence is a bit of a surprise. But they’d been together all morning. If anyone should be here, it ought to be her!
"Sorry, am I not needed here, Your Highness?" she mimics, and my teeth scrape together.
Ramiel looks between both of us, his eyebrows still wriggling around over his light green eyes. “Is there someone else here too?”
Ether and I look at each other. Both of us don’t know what he means. If someone else were here, at least one of us would sense it.
“No,” we say synchronously. Then we meet each other with glares. I’m sure mine is more intense because I see a flash of fear in hers.
“Then... why do I feel magic energy from both of you?” Ramiel asks.
My throat dries up like a parched desert.
To my surprise, Ether coughs into her fist. “That isn’t important now. Let’s move you to the palace, where you can get treated properly.”
Of course she’d doubt my expertise.
“Can you walk?” I ask, not letting her derogatory remark bother me.
Ramiel stiffly nods and Ether ushers him to his feet. She wraps his useful arm around her shoulders, then looks at me with eyes that flash from yellow to red. “Lead the way, Ronald.”
My eye twitches. I didn’t know a blatant mispronunciation of my name would be so aggravating. But it is. And I have half a mind to hurl myself towards her puny little neck to snap it in two.
Instead, I press my lips into a darling smile and scoop my supplies into my bag. Then I step in front of them and start walking around the back side of the palace walls. No one is permitted to pass through here, so no one will see the injured prince.
But a part of me wants them to see him. Right before they see his arms draping over the filthy elf, I can disappear at will, and all blame will land on her grubby hands...
“Thank you,” the elf squeaks behind me.
I feel a pang in my chest and my nose wrinkles. Her words disturb me, but they also fill me with indescribable pride. An elf thanking a fairy. What a joke! What a revelation!
What insanity.
“You’re welcome,” I snarl as we reach the back gate. Also stone, it blends in with the wall. I press my hand against the door’s smooth surface and it scrapes along the ground.
Ether passes me, dragging the prince along.
She glowers at me, an imbalanced grin tangling her lips into her cheeks. Then she raises one free hand, aiming a solidary finger at me.
If it weren’t for my honor and duty to the prince, she’d be dead.
But even I know that in our current situation, we have to be on the same side.
A/N: Was this chapter confusing? I know an added POV might make this a bit jarring for some. Please give me your honest thoughts. This was a guest chapter, so sadly you won’t be reading much more in Ronan’s POV. But I felt this was an important POV to witness.