Chapter 59 Fernanda's Decision
The corridor leading to the infirmary was quiet at that hour, lit only by flickering wall torches that cast long shadows across the stone floor. Sloane moved quickly, Maya’s limp body cradled in her arms. Maya felt lighter than she should have, frighteningly so, her head lolling against Sloane’s shoulder as faint breaths left her chest.
The infirmary doors creaked open.
The healer inside looked up sharply, eyes widening when he saw who was being carried in. “What are you doing?” he hissed, already stepping back. “Why would you bring her here?”
Sloane ignored him and marched straight toward the nearest bed. “Clear it,” she ordered. “Now.”
The healer hesitated. “She is a prisoner. If Damon finds out you brought her here, he will not spare you. Or me.”
“Stop talking,” Sloane snapped. “And start working. She is dying.”
The healer’s mouth twisted in irritation as he glanced at Maya’s pale face. “That is not my problem.”
Sloane laid Maya down roughly but carefully, then rounded on him. “Do not be a hypocrite,” she said coldly. “You know exactly who she is. Or who she was. Eira was one of us long before she became his prisoner.”
The healer stiffened at the name.
“That does not change anything,” he muttered, though his hands had already begun to move. He grabbed clean cloths and vials from a shelf. “If Damon asks who authorized this, I will not take the blame.”
“You will not need to,” Sloane replied. “Just keep her alive.”
Grumbling under his breath, the healer went to work. Maya’s ruined clothes were cut away, stained with dirt, blood, and dried sweat. Her skin was cold beneath the healer’s fingers as he cleaned her wounds and murmured incantations under his breath. Sloane stood nearby, arms crossed, watching every movement with sharp focus.
Time dragged.
The torches burned lower. The healer wiped his brow, clearly exhausted, but he did not stop until the color returned faintly to Maya’s cheeks. After nearly an hour, Maya’s fingers twitched.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Confusion hit her first. The scent of herbs filled her lungs. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, smooth stone instead of iron bars. She turned her head slowly, wincing as pain flared through her body.
“Infirmary?” she whispered.
Sloane sat on the edge of a nearby table, arms folded, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Maya swallowed. “You brought me here.”
Sloane nodded once.
Maya let out a weak breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You did not need to save me,” she said. “I was ready to die.”
Sloane scoffed. “Do not flatter yourself. Damon does not want you dead.”
Maya frowned. “Then why leave me to rot?”
“Because suffering teaches obedience,” Sloane replied. “Death does not.”
Maya turned her head away, staring at the wall. The truth of those words settled heavily in her chest.
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. The healer pretended to busy himself at a table nearby, though his ears were clearly straining toward them.
After a long moment, Maya spoke again. “Damon is on the wrong side.”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Eira.”
“He plans on exploiting Fernanda’s powers,” Maya continued, her voice gaining strength despite her weakness. “Not for balance. Not for peace. For his own twisted purpose.”
Sloane pushed off the table and stepped closer to the bed. “You dare speak his name with such judgment after everything he did for you?”
Maya met her gaze. “I speak it because I know him.”
Sloane’s jaw clenched. “You betrayed the Order. You betrayed Damon. After everything the Lycans took from us, how could you stand with them?”
“I am not standing with them,” Maya said. “I am standing against him.”
Sloane laughed sharply. “That is the same thing.”
“How can you still believe in him?” Maya asked quietly. “How can you not see what he is becoming?”
Sloane’s voice hardened. “How could you turn your back on us after everything the Lycans did? They slaughtered our kin. They burned our sanctuaries. And you chose their side.”
“I chose a cause,” Maya replied. “And I do not feel guilty for betraying the Order if it means preventing something far worse.”
The air in the infirmary grew heavy. Even the healer stopped moving.
Sloane stared down at Maya, her expression stormy, conflicted, furious. “You are delusional,” she said finally. “You think Damon is the monster, but the Lycans are the ones who started this war.”
“And Damon will finish it by erasing them all,” Maya said. “Including Fernanda.”
“That is a lie.”
“It is not,” Maya said softly. “And when he is done with her, he will not stop.”
Neither of them spoke again.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, unhurried and confident. The healer stiffened visibly.
The door opened.
Damon stepped inside.
His presence filled the infirmary instantly, his cane tapping lightly against the stone floor. His sharp gaze swept across the room, taking in the healer’s stiff posture, Maya lying awake on the bed, and Sloane standing rigid beside her.
Sloane bowed her head. “My lord,” she said quickly. “I apologize for bringing Eira here without your permission.”
Damon smiled.
It was not a warm smile. It was amused, calculating.
“I am not angry,” he said pleasantly. “On the contrary, I am impressed.”
Sloane blinked. “You are?”
He walked closer, stopping at the foot of Maya’s bed. “You acted on instinct rather than fear. That is rare.”
Maya stared up at him, her body tensing despite her weakness.
Damon tapped his cane once against the floor. “I just received a letter,” he said lightly. “From Fernanda herself.”
Sloane’s breath caught. “Fernanda?”
“Yes,” Damon continued, his smile widening. “She wishes to rid the realm of Lycans just as much as we do.”
Maya’s heart slammed painfully against her ribs.
“She has conditions,” Damon went on. “She wants my help with her powers. And she will only cooperate if I bring Eira with me.”
Sloane glanced sharply at Maya. “Why?”
Damon chuckled. “Sentiment, perhaps. Or guilt.”
He leaned closer to Maya. “You see now why I am glad you are not dead?”
Maya swallowed hard.
“You are no use to me dead,” Damon said calmly.
He straightened, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Prepare yourselves. The game has changed.”
As he turned to leave, the healer exhaled shakily. Sloane remained frozen, staring at Maya with an expression she could not name.
Maya closed her eyes, her chest tightening.
Fernanda had made her move.