CHAPTER 27
The carriage couldn’t make it through our gate. We stopped just outside of it. Everard picked me up again and carried me through the tunnel into the courtyard.
“I can walk,” I told him.
“You have no shoes.”
“They hurt my feet.”
He looked at me for a second.
We reached the house door, and then he brought me down the hallway toward our communal bath. A door swung open. Clover and Shana stood in front of the stone tub of steaming water. Clover saw me and went pale.
Everard tried to bring me in, but Shana blocked his way. “My lord, we’ve got it from here.”
For a moment, he hesitated, still gripping me to him, then he set me on my feet.
“Support her. She is in pain.”
I stumbled, but Clover caught me. I looked back to Everard. I didn’t want him to go.
“I will be right outside,” he promised.
Shana shut the door in his face.
I tried to walk, and the pain punched my knees. I gritted my teeth.
Shana caught me by my waist and steadied me. “This won’t take but a moment. Hold on.”
Clover stripped the remnants of my bloody shift off me.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “That fucking asshole ruined the beautiful dress you made.”
Clover swallowed. “No worries, my lady. I’ll make you another one.”
“Maggie,” I told her.
“Maggie.”
I could see myself and I was covered in blood.
“Hold on to me.” Shana wrapped her arm around my waist.
I took a step, winced, and took another one. Clover bit her lip.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “This is just pain from the healing after I died. The fucker shattered my kneecaps.”
Whatever magic was keeping me alive had a lot more to heal this time around.
Clover shut her eyes for a moment.
Shana maneuvered me over to the drain in the floor and stood back, holding my hands. “Clover, I need that bucket!”
Clover grabbed a bucket and carried it over. Hot water hit me, smelling like lavender.
“Another,” Shana said.
Clover brought another bucket, dumped it on me, and started pulling my braids out and soaping up my hair.
“I can do this,” I told them.
“No, you really can’t,” Clover said.
I didn’t have the energy to fight with them.
Standing was enough of an effort. They soaped me up, scrubbed me, dumped more water on me, ran the shower, and finally deposited me into the tub.
I melted into the hot water. The heat soothed the ache clenching my muscles.
I couldn’t smell the blood anymore, only lavender.
Shana picked up the bloody rags and walked out of the room. Clover sat on a stool next to the bathtub and held out a cup to me.
“What is it?”
“Hot wine with a bitter powder. It will soothe the pain and let you rest.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“It’s medicinal. You need it.”
“How about tea? I’ll drink tea.”
“Wine is better.” She thrust it into my hands.
I sighed and took a sip. “This soap smells so nice.”
“It’s from the last batch you made, the one with extra breberry oil.”
I sank deeper into the water and took another swallow of wine.
I was home. I was safe. Everard was just outside the door. The nightmare was over.
It was over.
I was scared to close my eyes. If I did, when I opened them, I could be still on the table. This could be a hallucination. A weird vision of safety my brain had conjured up as I died. In a moment I could come to and I would still be . . .
“Clover?”
“Yes.”
“Hold my hand.”
She gripped my fingers.
Quick, like pulling off a Band-Aid. I shut my eyes.
One . . . Two . . . Three . . .
I was still in the bath. I could feel the hot water and Clover’s fingers holding on to mine.
I opened my eyes slowly. It was fine. It was truly over.
“Thank you.”
Clover bit her lip. If she started crying, I would come apart.
“What happened after I left?”
“A woman showed up with a carriage. Lute was inside and he was bleeding. I was trying to get him out when Lord Everard came out of the house.”
She said “Lord Everard” in the same way one would say, “His Majesty has arrived.”
“He saw Lute and his face changed.”
I sipped my wine. “Changed how?”
“I can’t describe it. It turned very cold. Frightening. He looked like he could kill everyone around him. I have never seen anyone that angry. He was like a storm except it wasn’t raging, it was . . .”
“Contained.”
“Yes.”
That checked out.
“He asked where you were, and Lute told him that the Butcher took you and that he had a beast that could track you down. His tunic was soaked with blood. He kept saying that he lost you and he had to find you, or the Butcher would kill you.”
Poor Lute.
“We bandaged him the best we could,” Clover said. “Lord Everard ordered him to recount everything that happened since you left the house. Lute did, and then Lord Everard looked at the Shears woman. His eyes glowed green, and she bowed her head and stayed like that until he turned away.”
Right. Lute got stabbed, but she was in one piece, uninjured, and in Everard’s mind, she had allowed me to be taken.
“We finished working on Lute. A second carriage arrived with more people in it.”
The Shears backup.
“Lute and Will got into the driver’s seat. Lute gave the little beast a leather pauldron with blood on it, made an odd noise, and the beast flew up, pulling on a chain. Lute said they would have to follow the beast. Lord Everard got into the carriage, and they left.”
No horse other than Villain could carry Everard, because something about his magic made horses panic, and the entire city was looking for him.
Every second counted, and he’d been reduced to riding in a slow carriage at the mercy of a temperamental magic beast and the man who had failed to protect me and was slowly bleeding out.
It was a miracle that the carriage hadn’t exploded from his rage.
“How bad is Lute’s wound?”
She frowned. “It looked bad to me, but his father said it was a scratch.”
If you cut off his hand, Gort would say it was just a flesh wound. “So we have no idea how badly Lute is hurt?”
“Precisely,” Clover said.
Right. And now that the emergency was over, Everard would circle back to Lute letting me get snatched by the Butcher while he stood three feet away. Everard didn’t tolerate failure. I needed to make sure that Lute was okay.
I gripped the stone wall. “Please help me out of this tub.”
“I really think you should stay in.”
“I think so, too, but I really want to check on Lute. I don’t want him to be in trouble.”
A knock sounded through the door.
Clover went to it, cracked it, listened for a moment, and shut it again. Her eyes had gotten very big.
“My lady.” Her voice was oddly formal. “His Grace wants you to know that nothing is going to happen to Lute tonight. His injuries are not life threatening, and he did help find you. Lord Everard suggests you stay in the tub and finish your wine. When you have rested, he will escort you to your suite.”
When he’d said he would be right outside, I had taken it figuratively. Apparently, he meant it literally. Also, apparently, our doors were made of paper.
“Is he still out there?” I whispered.
Clover nodded, her eyes still as big as saucers.
“I’m going to need more wine,” I told her.
It took me half an hour and two more cups of wine to get out of the bath. Clover helped me into a nightdress that was modest enough to cover everything and wrapped a shawl over me for good measure. She also brought my house shoes, so I wouldn’t have to be carried everywhere.
I braced myself and opened the door. Everard waited on the other side, as promised.
“Does it hurt to walk?”
“I’ll manage.”
He offered me his arm. I rested my hand on it, and we walked to the stairs. I was able to move now. The bath and the bitter powder must’ve helped.
We climbed the stairs in awkward silence. One, two, three . . .
I clenched my teeth. It hurt so much.
Seven . . . Eight . . . I couldn’t do it anymore.
“May I?” he asked.
I gave up. “Yes.”
He picked me up and started up the stairs. My face was only a few inches from his. His arms were rock steady. His profile was harsh, as if it had been carved from stone, but he carried me as if I were made of glass.
He was so gentle. After everything the Butcher had done to me, I should’ve been alarmed at being touched, and yet this felt comforting and safe.
Not possessive, but protective, as if he were shielding me from a storm with his body.
This was completely absurd. I was being carried by the Sleepless Duke.
That alone should’ve sent me into near panic, and instead I had to fight to keep from wrapping my arms around him, desperate for closer contact.
Somehow, this was helping more than the bath and the safety of the familiar walls around me.
“Does it hurt worse this time than the last?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it more painful every time you die?”
“No. The second time hurt a lot less than the first. I think it’s how much damage the body has to heal. He did a lot of damage.”
His face had that steel-hard flat expression. He was controlling himself.
“It really wasn’t Lute’s fault,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It happened very fast.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t have a chance to react.”
“Maggie, I know whose fault this was. It was mine. I allowed you to go out.”
“I insisted.”
“And I should’ve insisted on coming with you. I didn’t, because you were angry with me, and I selfishly wanted things to be the way they were before.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I told him softly.
“We’ll have to find out.”
We stopped before the door of my suite. He put me back on my feet.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He opened the door and walked me to the bed. The lanterns were already on, glowing with soft light, and the bedroom felt familiar and yet not quite safe. I sat on the covers.
Everard walked to my window, checked to make sure it was locked, then went into my office and checked the window there.
“I lock it now,” I told him. “After Solentine.”
Everard came back. He was dressed in black, and in the gentle light of the lanterns, he looked like a wraith woven from the night shadows.
“May I stay and watch over you?”
I wanted so much to say yes. Now, in the quiet of the bedroom, the ghost of the Butcher stirred, hiding in dark corners, waiting in the gloom under the bed. It would be so nice to fall asleep knowing Everard was right here.
I’d already hugged him and cried on top of him. That part of the carriage ride was a tortured blur. I had crossed every line, and I needed to reassert a boundary. What happened in the carriage had to stay in the carriage.
I needed to thank him for his kind offer and tell him I would be fine.
I wasn’t fine.
“Yes.” I would regret this moment of weakness later, but right now I needed him to be here, or I would start screaming.
He got a chair from the study, brought it in, and placed it by my bed.
“Lanterns on or off?”
“On.”
I wasn’t ready for darkness. Not yet.
He nodded and sat in the chair.
“Rest well. You are safe.”
I pulled the blanket over myself.
A faint rustling came from under my bed. The little stelka crawled onto the covers, hissed at Everard, and curled up next to me. Her cold nose nudged my side. I petted her soft fur.
For a while I just lay there. I was so tired but sleep just wasn’t coming.
“Have you settled on a name for her?” he asked.
“Sushi.”
“Odd but pretty.”
I petted the stelka. The house was quiet.
“Thank you for finding me.”
“This will never happen to you again as long as I live.” He swore it like an oath. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Did Lute tell you about the man from the Garden?”
“He said you bought him from the Harzi. We’ll talk about that tomorrow, after you rest.”
“The man from the Garden is Silveren.”
“I see.” He said it like he was pronouncing a death sentence.
“If he comes here looking for me . . .”
“If anyone enters this house tonight, even if they appear by magic, I will know and I will kill them.”
“Silveren is a good fighter.”
“I’m better.”
“The Tower . . .”
“Even if he empties the Tower and brings every Redeemer knight to this house, I will cut them down and take his head. He will never touch you.”
“Because you’re the Sleepless Duke.”
“That’s one reason.”
I believed him.
“I’m ready for the lanterns to be off now.”
He got up and blew the lamps out. I watched him settle back into the chair in the gloom, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.