Chapter 22
Yarrow has a tooth hanging by not much, and I'm trying to figure out if I should heal it or just pull it out while he's bleeding on my clean floors.
"He called you a light whore," Yarrow says through the blood, which explains why Vetch's nose is now pointing the wrong way. "So I hit him."
"That was very protective but unnecessary.
" I press my fingers to his jaw, letting warmth flow into the damage.
The tooth reattaches with a little pop that makes everyone wince.
My hands are already shaking—too much healing yesterday, not enough sleep.
"Vetch, come here. Your nose needs setting before it heals wrong. "
"I don't need—"
"You absolutely need. It's pointing at your ear." I'm already reaching for him, and he backs up. "Oh for heaven's sake, I'm trying to help. Do you want to breathe through one nostril forever?"
The training room smells like sweat and blood.
Someone's already cracked the mirrors. The floor's going to need mopping.
With cold water for the blood, not hot. Five in the morning and they're already beating each other up.
At least twelve people are watching from the edges, Shadow Guild on one side, former Copper Hands on the other.
"This is about the morning training slots, isn't it?" I set Vetch's nose with a quick motion that makes him yelp. Light flows before he can pull away. "We have a schedule. I made a schedule. It's color-coded."
"Nobody follows the schedule," someone mutters from the back.
"Then we need a better schedule." The shadows around me are moving between the two groups. One pats Yarrow on the head. "Monday, Wednesday, Friday for Shadow Guild. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday for former Copper Hands. Sunday is for everyone because misery loves company."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair is everyone getting training time without losing teeth.
" I look around the room, noting injuries.
That one's breathing shallow—bruised ribs.
That one's bleeding from his ear, which is concerning.
And someone in the back is definitely hiding a dislocated finger.
"Anyone else need medical attention while I'm here? "
The door slams open hard enough to make the cracked mirror finish breaking. Everyone reaches for weapons.
Arthur stands in the doorway, and he looks terrible.
His face is swollen on the left side, purple-black bruising that goes down into his collar. He's holding his ribs with one arm, breathing carefully. His knuckles are split open, still bleeding. And his boots—the left sole is actually flapping, held on by maybe one stitch.
"Weapons down," I snap, already moving toward him. "That's my brother."
"That's Tide Runner leadership," Vetch protests through his newly healed nose.
"That's my dehydrated, probably concussed brother who hasn't eaten vegetables in days.
" I catch Arthur as he sways. He's lost weight since last week—I can feel his ribs through his shirt.
When did he last have protein? Actual protein, not whatever tavern scraps he's been living on. "How much water have you had today?"
"Livvy—"
"That's not an answer. Yarrow, get water. Finn, is there bread in the kitchen? Real bread, not the flat stuff." I'm already cataloging—at least four cracked ribs, his eye socket might be fractured, that left hand has broken bones. "We need privacy. Library. Now."
I steer Arthur out while everyone stares. The shadows follow, making worried movements around his injuries. One keeps pointing at his boots. My hands won't stop trembling now—partly exhaustion, partly seeing my little brother looking like he went ten rounds with a brick wall.
The library has books everywhere, morning light through actual glass windows, leather chairs that only squeak a little. And in the furthest corner, behind stacked adventure novels, is Tooth.
He's got his finger under each word, lips moving: "The... brave... little... rabbit... looked... at... the... big... dark... forest."
He looks up, sees us, and goes red all the way to his bald head. The book drops. There's a notebook beside him with words written in careful, shaky letters.
"I was just—this isn't—"
"Oh, that's a good one!" I'm genuinely delighted despite Arthur bleeding next to me. "The rabbit finds his courage in chapter two. Keep reading, we just need the alcove for medical privacy. Is the light good enough here? You'll strain your eyes if it's too dim."
Tooth clutches the book. "You don't... mind?"
"Mind? Tooth, literacy is wonderful. Besides, you're past picture books now. That has actual sentences." I guide Arthur to the alcove, noting that Tooth has bookmarks in several other books scattered around. "Just maybe stay? In case we need another person."
He nods, pretending to go back to his rabbit book, but I can feel him listening. He moves his finger back to reread a line, mouthing the words slowly.
Arthur collapses into the chair and immediately winces. Definitely those ribs.
"Shirt off." I'm already pulling supplies from my bag. When did my life become constant triage? "What happened?"
"Territory dispute. With my own people." He winces pulling his shirt over his head. Someone worked him over systematically. "Some think I'm too soft on the Shadow Guild situation."
"You mean on me." I press my hands to his ribs, letting golden warmth flow. The bones are worse than I thought—one's actually cracked in two places. This is going to drain me completely. He gasps as they start moving back where they belong. "This is going to hurt before it helps."
The healing pulls hard. The magic wants to fix everything, not just the immediate damage. I can feel old injuries trying to heal, childhood scars wanting to disappear.
"Livvy, listen—" He grabs my wrist. "The Radiant Court isn't waiting anymore. They're moving. Now."
My light flickers. "What do you mean now?"
"Someone's been feeding them information. Detailed information." His eyes are serious in his bruised face. "They know you go to the garden at six in the morning. Which paths you take to market. Which guards you send away during meals. They know which windows you stand at when you're thinking."
From behind his book, Tooth speaks up: "Been seeing the same watchers every day. Seven-thirty at the east corner. Noon by the baker's. Four o'clock near the well."
Arthur looks at him, then at me. I shrug. "Tooth's very observant. And protective. And learning to read."
"What's this word?" Tooth asks suddenly, pointing at his book. "Cour... courage?"
"Courage," I confirm. "Being brave even when you're scared."
"Oh." He writes it carefully in his notebook. "That's a good word."
"Someone who knows my exact routine..." My magic flares, creating spots of light on the walls. I can't control it when I'm anxious. "But only guild members know those things."
"Or someone who's been watching very closely.
" Arthur winces as I work on his eye socket.
The swelling goes down slowly, revealing green eyes.
Mother's eyes. He still has that little scar above his left eyebrow from when he fell off the garden wall at eight.
"Livvy, The Luminary's completely lost it. "
"More than before?"
"He burned his own lover last week. Said she had 'impure thoughts about mercy.'" Arthur's voice drops. "He's started carving symbols into his own skin. Says he needs to burn out his own corruption before he can cleanse others."
My light goes cold somehow. Still golden but cold. "That's not how light magic works."
"He thinks he can steal magical affinity. There's a ritual—needs the victim awake the whole time." Arthur meets my eyes. "Failed attempts destroy the user's mind. He's tried it five times."
"Oh." That explains everything. "He's burning himself out from the inside."
"And taking everyone with him. His second, Vice, she's disturbed but oath-bound. She can't act against him even though she knows he's gone too far."
The door opens and my shadows spike before recognizing Ruvan. He takes in the scene—me healing Arthur while dizzy from the effort, Tooth pretending to read, medical supplies everywhere.
"Your brother's here." His voice is flat.
"He's hurt. And he has information." I finish with Arthur's hand, the bones clicking back into place. Tooth winces behind his book. The room tilts—definitely overdid it. "Someone's been reporting my movements to the Radiant Court."
"Who?"
"Someone who knows when I send guards away for meals. When I'm in the garden. Which windows I think at." The light around my hands keeps pulsing. "Someone close."
Ruvan goes very still. "How close?"
"Close enough to know I stand at the library window at four-thirty most days." I can't keep the light steady. My hands are properly shaking now. "Close enough to know I take the back stairs when my hip hurts."
"Boss?" Joss appears in the doorway. Always there when things get complicated. "I heard we have a situation."
"The Radiant Court's moving against us. Someone's feeding them intelligence." Ruvan's shadows are agitated.
"I'll handle her protection personally," Joss says immediately. "I already know all her patterns—can protect her better than rotating guards."
"You know my patterns?" Something in my stomach drops.
"I make it my business to know everything that affects guild security." She's examining her nails. "Your morning garden time makes you vulnerable. Your market routes are predictable. We should change everything immediately."
"Yes," Ruvan says with visible relief. "Joss, you're the only one I trust with this."
Arthur shifts uncomfortably, eyes moving between Joss and Ruvan. His boots make a wet flapping sound. He used to do that same shift when Mother asked who broke something—never could lie properly.
"I have contacts who can track Radiant Court movements," Joss offers. "Safe houses we can use. I'll map out new routes that avoid main streets."
"Good. Perfect." Ruvan's tension eases. "Twenty years of friendship and you're still saving me."