Feyre

The pain in my hand was excruciating, and that practical part of me that worried and angsted over the future wailed that I might never be able to hold a bow again if it didn't heal properly, but I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. Letting my injured hand hang limp against my left thigh, I immediately went to check on Nesta, and Elain, who'd run over and curled up in a ball hugging her on the floor. One of them was crying softly.

To my surprise, it was Nesta.

I didn't allow myself more than a moment to gape as I used my good hand to push myself onto my feet and reached out a hand to shake Nesta's shoulder. She sobbed harder. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rhys pass out on the floor. Lucien was still pressed against the back wall, white as a sheet. Later, I told myself. I'll deal with them later. My sisters came first.

Nesta screamed when I touched her, and I hastily pulled back, unsteadying myself in the process. Out of habit, I put my injured hand out to steady myself against the floor, and bit my lip so hard it drew blood as not only did the crushed bones shriek, but I touched Amarantha's limp arm. I stifled a scream myself. Elain looked on, her lovely face drawn in terror.

I turned to where Lucien cowered. "Can you heal her." It was a question, but without the choice typically offered in this sort of question. He trembled, but said nothing. "Can you heal her."

"Yes." He breathed. "But I'm not very powerful. It would be better to go and find Tamlin; he's better at it than me, and he could-" His gaze fell on Rhys's prone body then, and fell silent.

"I don't want to risk anyone going out to find Tamlin, not when we don't know the state of the bitch's camp since she died, or if they even know she's dead-"

"They'll know-"

"-nor do I want to wait for your ever so gracious High Lord to deign to return. She could be dead by then for all we know." He may not know the dangers of infection, living in the high and mighty Spring Court, but I did. Too well. "So please, for the love of all that is good, muster up whatever magic you have and heal her."

Lucien flinched like a scalded cat, and guilt twisted my stomach. I hadn't meant to yell, not when he already seemed so traumatised. But my nerves were frayed and my sister might be dying and my hand hurt like hell and I guess I wasn't thinking straight in that moment.

I hated myself for it even as he approached Nesta, and knelt next to her, and she looked up at him with fear and hatred in her eyes but didn't resist when he took her arm and started doing whatever he needed to do to heal her. I turned away, and saw Rhysand on the floor. I exchanged a glance with Elain.

It was evident we both felt bad about leaving for dead on the floor someone we technically owed our lives to, so she helped me lift him into the next room, with our large double bed, and dumped him amongst the sheets. He groaned, even whilst unconscious, and seeing the arrow still in his wing, I dismissed Elain, took the small knife I usually used to slice open rabbits, and began to saw at the haft.

The snap it made when I finally got through it was oddly satisfying, though the membrane of Rhys's wing shifted slightly like it itched as shavings of remaining dried blood that had fallen from the blade fell on it. I took a moment to admire the wings themselves, and the painter in me marvelled at the blacks and deep blues and rich purples, thread through with threads of silver and amber and crimson and gold. But the wings shimmered green in the new dawn light (was it dawn already? I hadn't noticed) and my stomach lurched at the tell tale signs of poison creeping through his veins, towards his heart.

I inspected the arrow head in my hand, careful not to cut myself on it, and sniffed at the liquid still drenching it, but the poison was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I gritted my teeth. Based on Amarantha's intent as she'd walked through the door, it was a fair guess that it would be deadly.

I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat. Why did I care whether he lived or died? I barely knew him. But something deeper than instinct was urging me to save him, my morals not letting me let a person who saved me die - even if they were a faerie.

I flounced out of the room, leaving Rhys to his sleep. Lucien was still kneeling next to Nesta, who was muttering foul things as he set her bones, when I accosted him. "What do you know about poisons?"

He glanced up, looked almost relieved to look away from Nesta and her glares for a moment. "What?"

I repeated the question. He bit his lip, then admitted, "Not much. One time my friend was poisoned by another courtier, and I had to go out to catch the Suriel to tell me what to do to heal him, but that flower went extinct two hundred years ago, so I doubt whatever poison is plaguing you is anything like that." His nostrils flared then, and he glanced towards the room where Rhys slept. "Why are you helping Rhysand anyway?"

I ignored him. "What's the Suriel?"

"A faerie creature which will answer any question you have if you catch it, but it's extremely elusive and could kill a High Fae with ease, let alone a human." He frowned at me, seeming to have completely forgotten about the girl he was supposed to be healing. "And again, why are you helping Rhysand?"

I bristled under his accusatory stare. "He saved my life - not to mention Nesta's and Elain's, and possibly even yours - when he dispatched Amarantha's underlings. I don't know about you, but I don't leave life debts unpaid. It's just common decency."

Lucien's eyes cut a glare at the closed door again. "Many faeries don't know the meaning of that phrase. Especially Rhysand. 'Common decency' has never served us particularly well."

"So you're saying I'd be doing you a favour if I let him die." I clarified.

"You'd be doing us all a favour." His metal eye whirred, and an indignant flush crept up my neck at his scorn.

"Lucien, if you can't comprehend the idea of saving someone's life because it's a good thing to do, then at least understand the idea of an exchange of favours. He saved all our lives, the least I can do is save his. We granted you a favour once over when we allowed you and your High Lord to stay here, and you're repaying it by healing my sister. Now, we saved your life by killing Amarantha, the least you could do is help me with this!" I stopped to breathe. "How do I catch the Suriel?"

Lucien's brow creased, and there was something sorrowful about the way he looked at me then. "Is it ever difficult, dealing in favours in order to get something for yourself, rather than helping out of the goodness of your heart?"

"In the human realm, in our village at least, where there is little money, and little food, and we're all hell bent on survival, an oath is your currency. A favour is your currency. And charity is difficult to come by in these parts." I replied. The weight of it all had never felt so heavy to me.

Lucien studied me for a moment, face unreadable, then said, "The Suriel are few in number, but they're out there, and I wouldn't be surprised if some had snuck through the Wall into the mortal lands since Amarantha's been in power. The Suriel likes to hang around groves of young birch trees, and hates running water, so if you free one, and run, it's best to cross a stream or brook. If it's tempted in with the right bait - say, a freshly slaughtered chicken, or," he added, seeing my face and nodding at something behind me, "a fine cloak - then it likely won't notice a double-loop snare ready and waiting in the centre of the grove to trap it."

I turned to look at where he'd nodded, a plan already forming in my head, and saw Elain standing behind me, the new cloak she'd bought shortly before this whole mess had started hanging over her shoulders.

"Elain," I said slowly. "I need your cloak."

The woods were the same woods I'd hunted in for years, but the knowledge that there were faeries somewhere inside them made my skin prickle, and gave me nerves I hadn't felt since the very first time I'd visited.

In my left hand I clutched the rudimentary double loop snare I'd had Elain tie, under my careful instructions, and her cloak was slung over my shoulder. I had a small hunting knife at my waist, but with my injured hand I knew I would have to rely on running to escape the Suriel, rather than all out combat. I located the grove of birch trees I'd selected, with a small brook nearby, and set up my snare with the cloak carefully place inside it, to look like it'd just been dropped. Then I climbed a tree, and prepared myself for a long wait.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't too long before the sounds of the woods faded into nonexistence. I held my breath amongst the silence as the lone sound of a few twigs cracking in the distance grew nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

There was a snap, then a howl, and the sound of beating wings as the spooked birds took off.

I shimmied down the tree trunk and when I landed, I put my hand on my knife handle and went to meet the Suriel.

It was a monstrous thing, all skin and bones, with disconcertingly large teeth that it bared at me when I came into view. Long, spindly fingers looking liable to break any moment clutched the scarlet material of Elain's cloak, the grip tightening as I stepped further forwards.

I drew my knife. "Are you one of the Suriel?"

It cocked its head. "A human," it mused. "Did you set this clever, wicked trap for me?" I didn't answer. "I'm the Suriel, yes."

"Then it was for you."

"A human." It said again. "Very well, human. Ask me your question, then free me."

I dared a step closer. "What poison was on those arrows?"

"Bloodbane," it answered.

"Where can I find the cure?"

"In the woods."

A breath hissed out from between my teeth. "Please don't be cryptic. What is the cure?"

It narrowed it's eyes at me. "You aren't asking these things for yourself are you? You're asking for your mate."

I froze. "What?"

"You're asking for your mate aren't you?" The Suriel was leaning forwards slightly now, and I couldn't help but think there was some terrible glee in its face. "Your mate's lying dying, and you'd do anything to save him." It withdrew suddenly, and cocked its head again, like it finally took in my expression. "You look confused."

"I don't understand. Mate?"

"You would do anything to save him, it seems," it mused, "without even knowing why."

Suddenly it pricked its head up, and glanced behind itself in horror. I, with my inferior human hearing, heard nothing, but the Suriel's behaviour reminded me of a deer that had just scented its attacker, and a thought stabbed me in the gut: That maybe the Suriel was not the worse predator in these woods. Not anymore.

And if the Suriel was able to kill a High Fae, and a human is nothing to them. . . Cauldron, I was dead.

The Suriel turned back to me. "If you wish to heal your mate, find the pink flowering weed by the water's edge, and give it to him to chew on. Now," it finished, eyes wide and afraid. "Free me."

I hesitated for moment. "Why-"

"The Faerie Queen's allies are coming this way. They have heard of her death, and are fleeing retribution. If they find you, they will torture you until you beg for death in payment for killing her. If they capture me, they will cage me. Free me, and run, Cursebreaker."

"Cursebreaker?" I asked, incredulous, heart beginning to pound. The Suriel didn't answer.

I made a split second decision. I slashed at the rope binding it, and ran.

It didn't run after me.

And when I paused for an instant, to glance behind me, all that was left in the grove was the sliced rope and a scrap of scarlet fabric, caught on a twig.