To heal a Rogue

BONNIE

"You are nothing like whatever did that to you," Lysander said, sharp enough that I flinched slightly.

"I’ll call someone more experienced with this," he continued, gentler now, reaching for my hand. "I think she can actually help you, and settle my own nerves in the process. But until then, you have to stay awake. No matter what happens, you cannot fall asleep until we’re certain it’s safe."

I nodded.

"Who is this experienced person, by the way?" I asked.

"I mentioned her before. Fia."

I nodded again, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair back from my face, his fingers lingering there a beat longer than they strictly needed to.

"You scared me so badly," he said.

My face went hot all over again, and our eyes caught and held there, and for one strange, suspended second the whole room narrowed down to just the small space between us. I felt myself lean in without deciding to. He leaned in too, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him.

Then a knock at the door broke it apart before either of us finished the motion.

Lysander cleared his throat, straightening. "Who is it?"

The door opened, and the healer stepped through. "The witch has stabilized. We believe she’ll recover. We were going to notify her family about what happened to her."

"No," Lysander said. "Not yet. Bonnie here believes she can help her. So hold out as long as you’re able. My reign as regent has already been controversial enough without another disaster attached to it."

The healer nodded, then hesitated in the doorway. "There’s one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Luna Amaranthine is here. She’d like to see you both."

I had no idea who that was, but Lysander clearly did, given that his whole expression shifted into something guarded and tight.

"Why would she want to see us?" he demanded. "Why is she even here?"

"I’m not certain," the healer said. "It seems she stayed the night."

"Well... she’s betrothed to Prince Johann," Lysander said, mostly to himself, working through it. "So I suppose that isn’t entirely surprising. Perhaps she’s simply being kind."

"I agree." The healer added.

Only for Lysander to shake his head in response.

"To be frank, I doubt it," he added, before the healer could offer anything further.

She nodded, unbothered by the correction. "Should I let her in?"

He glanced at me, then back toward the healer. "I don’t trust Johann’s fiancée. I’ll meet her myself."

He turned back to me. "Please try not to sleep. Delta will be with you shortly."

Then he was gone, following the healer out, the door swinging shut behind them, and I was left staring at my own hands again in the sudden quiet.

I reached for the hum a second time. This time, it answered, though it was slower than usual. It felt reluctant to show up, but what mattered was that it came.

I watched as the source spread its soft blue light across my palm, and the cuts along my hand began knitting shut beneath the glow. I moved to my other hand next, then pressed both against the wound at my stomach, wincing as skin pulled itself back together.

My mind kept circling back to that meadow. The woman with no complete face and the mention of a curse. Perhaps that was worth mentioning to Lysander. I would mention it once he was back.

I stood, testing my legs. It was steadier than I expected, and with that in the bag, I made my way toward the door.

I was worried about the witch. I couldn’t just lie here doing nothing while someone suffered because of shit that happened to me. I did not feel like dragging more people into some bout of fresh hell.

The infirmary beyond it was louder than I expected, with healers moving fast between beds, low, urgent conversations passing back and forth in overlapping streams. My little private room had felt like a sanctuary compared to this. Someone spotted me almost immediately and hurried over.

"Oh... You should be resting," the girl said, her hands hovering like she wanted to steer me back toward my room without quite daring to touch me.

She was an Omega like me. That much was clear.

Still, the kindness in her voice felt strange. Foreign. Something I hadn’t earned and didn’t fully trust yet. But I let it pass without comment.

It felt like the kind of thing that would be more prominent now that I had revealed myself and anyone with eyes would see how fixated Lysander seemed to be with me.

"Where’s the witch?" I asked. "The one they brought in tonight?"

"Why?"

"I want to fix her. Obviously. Lysander also approved."

She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder toward the ward.

"Oh... I do not know about that. That isn’t what the head healer said we should—"

"Are you implying I’m lying?" I said, sharper than I intended, though I didn’t take it back once it was out.

"No," she said quickly, backing off. "Of course not. I apologize."

"If that is the case, tell me where she is."

"Of course. This way."

She led me through the ward, weaving between beds, and I found the poor witch lying pale and motionless on a narrow cot, her skin drained of nearly all its color.

My stomach twisted at the sight of her.

I called the hum again, and it rose more easily this time, steadier.

When I did that, I noticed the other healers and Omega attendants pausing in their work to watch, murmuring among themselves as I approached. I ignored them and focused entirely on the witch below me, pressing my glowing palms against her arm, as I began to feel the pull as the source flowed out of me and into her.

Then out of nowhere, a vision hit without warning.

I was inside it.

My hands were raised in front of me, fingers spread, and somewhere beyond them the witch was being lifted from the ground. Her feet hung uselessly beneath her, her body jerked upward as though something had seized her around the throat and was pulling her higher.

There was nothing there.

No hand. No rope. Nothing I could see.

But I could feel it.

I could feel the pressure of my own grip around her throat, the invisible force closing tighter with every second. My fingers curled slowly into my palms, and as they did, her body rose higher. She clawed at her neck, her mouth opening as she fought for air, but I didn’t loosen my hold.

I tightened it.

The pressure in my hands was so real that my fingers began to ache.

Then I heard myself scream.

"Die, you monster!"

The words tore out of my mouth with a fury that didn’t feel like mine, and my hands clenched.

Something inside me surged forward.

The invisible grip around her throat tightened violently, and I felt the resistance give way beneath it. Her head was ripped sideways with enough force to make my stomach turn, and then I tore into her completely.

Everything went red.

The witch, the room, my hands, everything disappeared beneath that thick wash of crimson. I couldn’t see anything anymore, but I could still feel the force of what I was doing, the terrible pressure in my hands as though I were still holding her there.

Then it vanished.

The vision snapped away so abruptly that I was left gasping, the memory of my fingers still curled as though they had never stopped gripping her throat.

I staggered back, my vision clearing in uneven pieces.

The girl who’d led me here caught my arm before I could fall.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

I looked down at the witch, my heart still hammering from whatever I’d just been shown, still trying to understand why my own hands had turned violent.

I did not even get to linger on much as the witch’s eyes opened.

She sat up slowly, staring down at her own hand, and turning it over like there was something wrong with it.

My body was tense. Part of it was because of what I had just seen. Was it a vision? Was that what I just saw? Or was it a trick of the mind?

I looked back at the witch and saw that her face, this time, broke open into something close to disbelief.

"My... My... magic," she said. "I can feel it again."

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