Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Lia
I pace as I try to think, mostly to keep moving because I’m so cold. Requests for a fire, or even for more blankets, have been met with apathy and cold looks, with outright anger and sneers from the fae guards and the servants I’ve asked. I’m starting to miss the old Pixies who used to serve Varrik. This isn’t his punishment; it’s the fold’s .
I was never well-liked here before, but the outright hostility is new. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I did hurt them, not only by almost killing their beloved lord but by burning part of their home as well. No one died in the fire. I’d have heard about it by now if they had, but they easily could have, and I suppose their tents and all their possessions were destroyed in my escape as well.
I deserve their anger.
A plan is slow in coming to me, and I was hoping the Harbinger might have something to contribute to our shared safety, but it's abandoned me again.
I’m on my own, and I’m out of time. I thought I might be able to endure Rikoth, but as the hours go by, I know I can’t. I need to get out of this room, and I need the Harbinger’s help.
My mouth curls in disgust. All these years, all I wanted was to not feel it, and now, in my time of actual need, it's nowhere to be found. I know it’s not its fault. The binding is sapping its strength. But Rikoth will be here soon.
I've truly been given to Rikoth.
I swallow hard, my hands shaking. I was hoping he was lying before.
I hear the door and whirl towards it, only to see servants bringing in a bath.
My lip curls in anger. Does he actually think I'm going to bathe myself for him?
I sneer at the guard, who just shrugs and waits for the servants to be finished. I clench my jaw and try to think of a way to keep Rikoth at bay.
They leave me in peace after the tub has been filled and I stare at it for a long time, not wanting to get into the water, not wanting to be clean for him, but I don't have any other choice. Taking off my green cotton dress that’s too thin for the time of year, at least in this room, I fling it over the back of a chair.
I get in the bath, hating myself for it even more when I realize it’s stone cold. I gasp at the freezing temperature I should have expected, but I still wash in it as best I can, knowing that, despite what he said, if Rikoth has any complaints about my lack of cleanliness, he'll take them straight to Varrik and Ryon will suffer for it.
I hear the door, but it’s just a servant with another sparse tray of unpalatable food, so I stay where I am and wait for her to leave.
When I’m finished, I dry myself and belatedly find that she’s taken my dress. With nothing else to wear, I wrap my shivering body in the small bath sheet, and I wait for the inevitable, my heart pounding in my chest.
I look around the room for anything that I can use to defend myself, and my eyes alight on some gravel in the corner from where the wall on that side of the keep has begun to crumble, and no one's fixed it.
There are several large shards. I pick them up and hold them in my hand. They’re not much, but they'll have to do. I sit on my bed, my spine ramrod straight.
I hear steps down the corridor, and I tense as the door opens, but I hear a woman’s voice on the other side.
More servants.
Two fae girls who don’t even glance my way enter the room with another guard who looks bored. They’re talking in low voices with each other. At first, I ignore them, but my ears perk up as I hear one of them mention Varrik. I strain to listen as they work, and I learn that Varrik received a message a few minutes ago and left the fold soon after.
He's not here. This could be my chance.
If I can just get to Kallum ... I close my eyes and stifle a laugh. Even if I find him, what can he do? What will he do? I consider this for a moment. Do I think he’ll help me? He seemed to care at least a little in Rondorai. I sigh. Beggars can’t be choosers. I have no one else besides Jak, and he’s just a young lad. I can’t put him in danger any more than I can Ryon.
The servants leave after the tub is emptied, giggling between them as they go and throwing amused looks over their shoulders at me. I just wait, my mind feverishly working towards a plan.
I stare at the bars on the window and not for the first time. It’s the only way out of here other than the door. I tried them once before I escaped the first time, and they never moved, but perhaps … I glance at the other parts of my room again. Almost a decade has passed since my last attempt, and the areas of the keep that weren’t rebuilt after the fire are clearly worse for wear. The same wall as the grate is practically falling to pieces.
I go to the window. If I can get one of the bars out of the way, I can probably squeeze through. I pull at one with all my might, and my heart lurches as it twists very slightly with a creak. My eyes widen as I look behind me, listening for any steps in the hall before I take the largest rock in my hand and smash it against where the wrought iron goes into the weakened mortar. It takes a few strikes, and my hand is bleeding freely where I’ve caught my fingers on the rough stone, but I see a small crack.
I pull at the bar, jiggling it in its housing and breaking more of the crumbling mortar off. I work at it slowly, scraping away until late afternoon, and just as I’m losing hope of ever getting it out, it gives way suddenly, the bottom of it coming away from the stone with a jerk that makes me lose my grip, and I thud to the hard floor. I groan at the pain that radiates through my body as I push myself to my feet, and I see that the bar is still in the window at the top, but it’s a bit bent now and not attached at the bottom. It's not enough to pull it out, but if I twist it, I can ease it to the side slightly, and it might just be enough for me to climb out.
I hear the door, and I freeze. I’m out of time. If I try to go now, I’ll be caught.
I make myself put the bar back in place with shaky fingers, throwing the bits of mortar that have come off out into the moat below and hoping no one notices that the middle bar isn’t as straight as it was before I can escape the room.
I hear Rikoth’s voice and shudder. Unlike Vern, who I know would take pleasure in forcing me physically, who’d use brute strength to subdue me, Rikoth will delve into my mind and make me do what he wants me to do. The thought of it is even more abhorrent than him holding me down or hitting me. Being made to do what he wants, being trapped in my own mind ... I shiver. I need to stop him before he has the chance to take hold.
The door cracks open, and as soon as I see his face, I throw a stone. It bounces off the corner of the door, and I throw another right as he comes in.
Luck appears to be on my side. I catch him right over one of his eyes, and he lurches back with a yell. I see a flash of blood, and he closes the door with a slam and a vicious curse. Breathing hard, I don't move from the bed. I wait, my arm poised to throw another. I hear a commotion outside and Jak’s voice saying loudly that the wound needs to be cleaned because humans carry diseases. I chuckle at that and send a silent thanks to him for trying to delay Rikoth.
I feel the elite at the fringes of my mind trying to gain entrance, and I steel myself to him, hoping that he won’t be able to get a hold of me if he’s not in my line of sight. A few seconds pass while he tries to gain purchase in my mind, and I hear Jak again.
‘There’s blood all over your face,’ he says, sounding frustrated. ‘You can’t go in there with an open injury. Gods only know what maladies the human carries. You don’t want to lose that eye, do you? Let me take you to Healer Skith. He’ll be able to close the wound more quickly than I. It won’t take long.’
Rikoth mutters his ascent, and I hear them leave, but I don’t relax.
I glance out at the sky. The sun is still too high. If I try to go now, the guards will see me drop into the mote. I need to wait.
I hear someone at the door again a little while later, and I move from the bed, getting ready to defend myself again, another rock in my hand. I've only got three left, but it's a servant who comes in a bit warily with the dinner tray. I let out a small sigh of relief, and I wait for her to leave. I pad across the room and look in the bowl. Stew. I haven't been fed real food in days, and I need all the strength I can get. I fall on it ravenously, eating it quickly with the bread and barely noticing that it’s stale this time.
When it's all gone, I sit back on the bed, and I keep staring at the door, waiting for the sun to go down low enough to blind the guards on the wall so that I can get away.
But within minutes, my sight begins to get hazy, and I find myself swaying. My eyes cut to the empty bowl on the tray, and I realize with dread that Rikoth has changed his tactics.
He’s decided to subdue me another way. I stand up, panicking, but even my alarm is muted already. I need to get out of the room before he comes.
I go to the window and twist the bar, half afraid that it will be stuck again, and I won’t be able to get it out. But it moves and turns, and I’m able to shimmy through, ignoring the pains that shoot through my body as I do.
I lever myself onto the outer sill and look down at the murky water of the moat, battling my terror at the keep’s brackish line of defense. There’s no other way. My stomach churns, but at least I can swim if I need to. That isn’t the problem, after all. I take a breath and stop thinking about why I’m afraid. I don’t have any more time to waste.
I let myself drop, hoping the moat is deep enough that I won't break any more of my bones during my escape and that the sun is low enough.
I gasp as I fall through the air and hit the dark water with a plop. It’s actually deeper than I presumed. More frigid too. My body freezes, cold, fear, and shock crippling my thoughts for a moment … or ten. But I fight the instinct to immediately claw my way to the surface. I need to give it time for the guards to squint down through the brightness of the setting sun’s rays and, seeing nothing, turn back around to scan the interior of the keep.
I wait until my lungs are burning before I rise slowly and take a long, slow breath when I break the surface. I stay amongst the reeds, listening and watching to see if anyone's noticed. When no one shouts and none of the guards come, I slink through the water to the other side and pull myself onto the bank. I force myself not to rush even though I want to be out of the water as quickly as possible. My breath is coming in fits and starts as terror grips me. I stay in the long grasses to recover, hidden from the eyes in the keep as I wait for darkness to descend.
My body feels heavy and sluggish, and my eyes slip closed.
Wake up!
I startle, afraid I’ve slept away my advantage, but I see from the sky that the sun has only just set. I’ve only been out for a few minutes, and I send a silent thanks to the Harbinger, who I know woke me up in time and, somehow, is probably the only reason I’m able to stand after whatever Rikoth had my food dosed with.
My feet leaden, I stumble away from the moat towards the village down the hill that I could see from my window, trying to keep my plan in the forefront of my mind though the stew is making everything jumbled and hazy.
Worry seeps into my thoughts. Will Kal help me? It doesn’t matter, I decide. Even if he doesn’t care about what happens to me, surely he won’t let a faeling suffer ...if I can explain everything ... Where did that healer say they were? At the top of the village in one of the newer houses?
Head swimming, I try to stay out of sight. Somehow, I’ve kept hold of the bath sheet, but that’s all I have to cover myself with.
My body hurts. I have to stop. I stumble, having to use the walls of the houses and buildings to keep myself upright. Luckily, the streets seem to be deserted, and I can hear cheering from where the arena is, so there must be some demonstration or maybe a festival tonight.
I find myself at the top of the village and blink at the three identical houses in front of me. I realize with a sinking feeling that I have no idea which one The Cunty Betrayers are being housed in. I didn’t think …
There are some bushes nearby, and I retreat into the middle of them to wait out of sight, curling into a shivering ball and trying not to lose consciousness again.
A few minutes go by before I see someone I don't recognize going into the first house so that one probably isn’t theirs.
I wait a little longer, my eyelids drooping as I struggle to stay awake. If I don’t move, I’m going to fall asleep here, I realize, and it's by sheer force of will that I stand on shaky legs and go to the second house.
The odds are at least fair that this will be the right one. I can't delay any longer, or I’ll be caught. I try the door, but it’s locked. I clench my eyes shut as I knock on it and pray to all the gods I can think of that Kal answers.
At first, I don't hear anything and I wonder if perhaps they're at the arena with everyone else. I wonder if I can break in somehow. But then I hear footsteps, and the door opens. I flinch as I see it's Dane, not Kal. I step backward almost involuntarily at the look on his face that I don’t understand in my drugged state. He stares at me with wide eyes.
‘Lia?’ he asks quietly, looking at me with concern that’s rapidly morphing into the same emotion I saw in the healer’s eyes. I flinch under his perusal.
‘I didn't know where else to go.’
Dane
The Harbinger.
Is at my door.
Shock freezes me to the spot, but I still manage to catch her as she sways and begins to fall off the step.
I take stock of the situation quickly. Varrik won’t know she’s here yet. I should take her directly back to the keep before anyone realizes she’s gone, but I find myself looking around to see if anyone else has noticed she’s here instead. There’s no one. All of them are at the arena watching the practice fights before the festival revelries begin.
So, instead of doing my duty, I pull her inside, thankful that neither Grey nor Kallum are here to witness my actions.
I shut the door and look down at her wavering form in front of me. She looks a bit worse for wear. Has she been swimming?
I frown. What I first thought was a dress in the low light outside is actually just a sheet around her. I know I shouldn’t keep her here, but my arms on her shoulders tighten at the thought of taking her anywhere else, and instead, I pick her up and bring her slowly up the stairs to my room.
‘What am I doing?’ I ask myself aloud as I glance out the window.
I don’t know, but I should have some time until the others return to think of something.
I lay her down on my bed and drag the nearby chair over to sit on while I stare at her. She actually looks well, considering that the others have been fearing the worst, and I scoff. Kal and Grey have been adamant that something’s wrong, but she appears healthier than when we first got here. I allow myself a small smile at their expense, knowing that I was right and they were wrong. I'd love to tell them that, but I’ve already decided that I'm not going to let them know that she was ever here if I can possibly help it.
I make a split decision. There’s really nothing else I can do but take her back to the keep. But I decide to let her sleep for a bit first as she’s clearly very tired, and I don’t fancy carrying her all the way back. The others can’t find out she was here, though. I make a mental note to dispel her scent from the house before the others get back.
A sudden thought has me hesitating and I glance around the room suspiciously. Kallum has been lurking around a lot lately, using his skill to go unnoticed even in the house. I think he’s at the arena, but would I know if he was here? There's always a chance with him at the moment. He never does what he's supposed to do or what I would expect from him, even at the best of times, but now … After all these years, I should know him, but he's always been unpredictable.
I lean my elbows on my thighs and steeple my fingers as I watch the slow rise and fall of the Harbinger’s chest.
‘How did you escape the keep?’ I muttered to myself.
Almost without realizing what I'm doing, my fingers move up to brush some hair from her face.
‘Wake up,’ I mutter. ‘We need to get you back to where you’re supposed to be, Harbinger.’
Her eyes flicker, and when they open, I notice that they’ve become glazed and feverish. She looks ill.
My brow furrows. ‘Lia?’
She blinks slowly, and my eyes widen as she untucks the bath sheet and opens it, revealing her body to me.
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss, suddenly angry beyond words at her antics … or the fact that my cock begins to immediately harden at the sight of her.
She doesn't reply; she just blinks and stares at the ceiling. Her legs widen. I look away, willing myself to think of my Fiana and not the female in front of me.
My eyes cut to her face, trying to understand what game she’s playing, but her expression is blank. It’s as if she doesn’t even realize where she is, perhaps not even what she’s doing.
‘Lia?’ I ask again.
She blinks again very slowly but doesn’t move.
I lean forward and close the bath sheet, recovering her.
‘Lia,’ I say again more forcefully, and she looks at me, her eyes unfocused.
‘Why did you come here?’ I ask, my eyes narrowing.
My lip curls in disgust when she still doesn’t answer.
‘Did the others not release you enough in Rondorai?’ I snarl, trying to get a reaction, any at all.
Has she come to try to sabotage my new position here, my good standing with Varrik? Did one of the other elites put her up to it? I wouldn’t put it past Vern or Rikoth. Neither of them ever liked that Fiana and I were together. But if Varrik finds Lia here, I could well be barred from the keep before I can even explain.
She shakes her head a little, but I don’t think the motion is meant to be a response. Her eyes close again and I lean forward with a sound of impatience as I grab her by the shoulder. She squeals, her face contorting in pain, and I jump back, looking to see where I hurt her.
There’s nothing there.
Her eyes are fixed on mine again, and she opens the sheet once more.
‘I don’t want you!’ I snarl, and she flinches.
Her gaze lowers, avoiding mine.
‘Where am I?’ she whispers, looking around the room slowly and sounding close to tears.
The vacant look in her eyes suddenly and very belatedly makes me realize that she’s not herself, that maybe she’s ingested something that’s making her act this way. I’m no healer, but I’ve heard of herbs that can do these things.
‘Someone drugged you and sent you here. Who?’ I ask.
Perhaps Vern or Rikoth gave her something and pointed her in this direction.
Her eyes flutter back open.
‘I had to come here … have to escape.’
Her fingers drift into mine, and she squeezes my hand weakly.
‘Please,’ she begs quietly. ‘Please.
I shake my head. ‘You shouldn't be here. I need to get you back to the keep.’
I grip her hand tightly and pull her up to get her standing.
She cries out, clearly in pain, an arm hugging her middle and agony evident on her features.
‘What the fuck?’ I snarl, easing her back down slowly. Her hand in mine goes slack as she slips back into unconsciousness.
I saw her body. There's nothing there. My eyes widen.
‘No …’ I mutter disbelievingly.
I wrack my brain for the conjure to reveal truth hidden by magick, muttering the words with a flick of my wrist as soon as I remember them.
I step away from her, my mouth falling open as I finally see what’s real. One of her eyes is swollen shut. There are burns down her arms, her skin covered in injuries, old and new. I cover my mouth with my hand, almost not able to comprehend what I'm seeing. My stomach lurches.
‘Who did this?’ I snarl, angry beyond measure, but her eyes remain closed.
I pull in a deep breath as I take hold of the edges of the bath sheet. I don’t want to look, but I need to. I open it, and I have to look away for a moment to recover before my eyes can return to her to take it in. I can see barely an inch of untouched pink skin. The rest of her is marred with bruises, scrapes, more burns, and whip marks. She’s been beaten more than once. It looks like a healer has been at her, but the work is quick and shoddy.
Unsanctioned.
I know some healing conjures, but nowhere near enough to fix this. I catalogue it all though it pains me to. If it happened in the keep, it means Varrik knows about it, so it stands to reason he has ensured that she is not healed.
This is her punishment.
I sit down hard in the chair at the realization.
What he's done to her is a far cry from what I had assumed would happen. I'd thought perhaps some missed meals, that she’d be locked in a room, forced to sleep on the floor. Something to cause a bit of discomfort. But not this. I'd never have thought Varrik would ...
It was easy to call for him when I realized we were so close, that we’d somehow been brought all the way to the fourth circle in one trip. My loyalty is to him, but I also truly thought she’d be safer here than out in the Wilds.
My thoughts begin to unravel, and I push them away. Now's not the time.
What am I going to do with her? The thought of taking her back now for Varrik to keep torturing her makes my stomach twist.
I take her hand in mine. ‘I'm sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I didn't know.’
I hear a noise from behind me, and I turn to find Kal staring at me and at her, his fury impossible to miss.
‘You should be at the arena,’ I mutter without malice. A part of me is glad one of the others is back after all.
‘If I was, would I have found her here later, or would you have taken her back to the keep before Grey and I ever knew she was here?’
I don’t answer him, and I hear his sharp intake of breath as he steps closer, taking in her injuries. He moves the sheet as well and I see his jaw clench.
‘Fucking Varrik!’
He turns on me. ‘You knew he would do this,’ he accuses.
I shake my head. ‘No. I never thought … when I called for him … I never thought he'd do this. I knew he was angry about the keep, but I thought … he values the Harbinger. I didn't think he'd hurt her. Not like this.’
‘What are we going to do with her? We can't give her back to him.’
I close my eyes and shake my head. ‘We can't keep her here. We can't leave, and where could we hide her from him in the fold?’
‘We need to hide her!’ he says loudly.
I ward the room for sound. ‘Where?!’ I shout. ‘Where could we possibly conceal her here? Where would he not find her?’
Kal doesn’t have an answer.
I pace the room.
‘Would you want to?’ he asks suddenly, staring at me intently.
‘What?’ I snarl impatiently.
‘Would you hide her if there was a way? Leave if you could?’
‘Immaterial,’ I mutter. ‘There isn’t, and we can’t. Where’s Grey?’
‘Out. At the arena? Running in the woods? Trying to keep the beast in check?’ Kal waves a hand. ‘I don't know. I don’t care either. He can’t do any more than we can tonight.’ He fixes me with a stare. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘We need to get her back,’ I say. ‘Gods. How did she even escape the keep?’
Kal’s nostrils flare. ‘She jumped out of her window,’ he mutters.
I look at him in askance.
‘There’s mud between her toes from where she must have clambered out of the mote,’ he looks devastated. ‘How desperate must she have been to do that?’
‘Jump out of her window?’
‘Jump into that water. She’s terrified of rivers. You know that.’ Kallum leans over her, smoothing her hair back gently. ‘Why doesn’t she wake?’
‘She’s opened her eyes a time or two,’ I tell him, not going into detail. ‘She’s been drugged.’
‘Why would Varrik do that to her as well? I don't understand.’
‘Neither do I.’ I stand up and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘I know this is my fault, but ...’
‘What do you care?’ Kal suddenly snarls. ‘You don't even like her!’
‘I didn't want this,’ I say, pacing around the room again. ‘Perhaps there's a way. I'm one of the elite now. So are you. Perhaps we can shield her from whatever is happening at the keep, at least until we can come up with a better plan.’
Kal shakes his head. ‘I saw her only hours ago. I snuck into her room. She didn't look like this.’
‘Rikoth,’ I growl. ‘You know his skill.’
‘He’s always been strong.’ Kal frowns. ‘How many times did he hide the truth? How many times was she hurt, and no one knew outside the keep before she set that fire to escape?’
The thought makes me feel sick. ‘We can’t let her back in there without protection from Rikoth.’
‘And Varrik,’ Kal says, looking at me with hard eyes, ‘and the other elites.’
‘Rikoth might have hidden it from Varrik as well … he might not have known.’
The explanation is flimsy and sounds even more so when I say it aloud.
‘You’d still make excuses for him?’ Kal makes a noise of disbelief. ‘Varrik is not what we thought,’ he snarls, and I wince, hoping he’s wrong because if Varrik’s the monster, what does that make me?
‘I have to,’ I say quietly.
I move toward the bed to pick her up.
‘What are you doing?’ Kallum spits.
‘I told you. I need to take her back. We can't keep her here. They’ll already know she’s gone, and if they don’t yet, they will soon. If she’s found here, we’ll never be able to help her. How can we do anything if Varrik doesn't trust us?’
Kal steps back, clearly at war with himself, as he pulls a hand through his hair roughly. ‘I hate this,’ he says. ‘We should never have come anywhere near this circle.’
He looks angry, and I try to ignore him. I pick her up carefully, muttering a conjure to keep her asleep and the pain at bay.
I take her slowly through the house, down the stairs, and out the door. I skirt the main areas of the village, avoiding everyone, but, luckily, most are still at the arena. I can see how she was able to get all the way to our house without being stopped. The streets are practically deserted.
When I get to the keep, the wards allow me entry. A foolish guard tries to stop me, and I conjure him out of the way, slamming him into a wall.
‘I'm going to see Varrik,’ I state for all within earshot to hear. ‘Anyone who gets in my way will suffer the same treatment.’
I take her up to the Gate room, and I find Varrik there pacing.
‘You found her!’ he looks relieved.
His assessing gaze moves over her, and I note that although he eyes her injuries with distaste, he’s not surprised by the state she’s in.
A part of me still hoped that Kal was wrong, that Varrik wasn’t the villain of the story, but it’s becoming clearer and clearer that the Harbinger’s fear and hatred of him may have been justified.
I want to turn around and leave. Either that or kill him. But I push the thoughts away. I need to see this through if I’m going to have a chance at keeping her safe until the others can take her away from here. That will be Kallum’s plan. Grey's as well, perhaps.
And I’m going to help them.
I glance at Rikoth who also looks more than a little relieved, his eyes flitting to Varrik nervously. He was being blamed for her escape, I realize, and I only just keep the smirk off my face. I definitely don’t let my abhorrence for the fae who's meant to be one of my brethren show, but the furious look he gives the small, hurt human I’m holding is enough to make my arms tighten around her protectively as he steps forward.
‘Give her to me.’
I don't release her.
Rikoth snarls as if he’s the most powerful elite in the room, and I snort.
‘Give her to me,’ he hisses. ‘I'm to breed her. I might as well do it now while she sleeps.’ He glances at Varrik, who nods, though when Rikoth looks back at Lia again, it’s with thinly veiled revulsion.
I swallow hard, seeing the path laid out ahead of me with clarity. This is how I can keep Lia safe and help the others get her out of here while staying on Varrik’s good side until Fiana returns, and my love and I can leave here together.
‘The honor of breeding the Harbinger should go to one who can actually keep her contained,’ I say with another snort, looking at Varrik, who raises an intrigued brow at me.
‘I’m one of the elites now,’ I state. ‘I found her. I brought her back. It should be my right to be the one who seeds her.’
‘You?’ Rikoth growls with derision. ‘You’re not fit to?—’
‘Enough,’ Varrik says, his sharp tone carrying through the room and brooking no further arguments.
His eyes bore into me, and I meet them without hesitation, already knowing this is a foregone conclusion because Varrik is a leader who respects strength, not excuses.
‘Granted.’
Rikoth starts to protest but falls silent at a quelling look from his master.
He glares down at Lia and gives a forced chuckle. ‘Good riddance. Ugly little thing. Good luck getting your cock hard enough to rut her.’
Varrik waves us away. ‘Take her back to her room.’
‘I want her healed fully,’ I say, taking a chance. ‘If you want the human bred, she needs to be in good condition. She's half dead. I'm not going to be punished when she doesn't get with child because her body has been so abused.’
Varrik’s eyes narrow a fraction as he takes me in, but then he nods. ‘Go and grab a healer then,’ he says with a bite to his voice that tells me his patience is at an end, and he’s no longer feeling altruistic.
I bow my thanks, and he lets out a breath.
‘Just get it done.’