22. Listless
Listless
I n the chaos of the attack, I didn’t realize I’d been injured.
It wasn’t until we were nearly back to the Citadel that the sharp pain in my left wrist registered and I found I couldn’t easily move my hand.
It must’ve happened when I fell, after my loss of control over the draugr.
But the night’s events blurred together.
My thoughts were foggy, and the Shadow was strangely silent.
I wanted to question her, but it took all my focus to watch my step and keep from falling over.
The sun was barely peeking over the outer wall when we entered the courtyard, sending slants of blinding light over the tallest spires of the Citadel and refracting off the glass dome over the throne room.
I shielded my eyes against the flash but winced when the muscles in my shoulder ached with the movement.
Every part of me ached, my chest most of all.
As we trudged under the portcullis and into the courtyard, I dropped my arm and leaned further into Lenn’s side.
Nearly every inch of available space was occupied.
Bodies lined the edge of the western wall, bloody pieces of torn canvas draped over their lifeless forms. An awning of white cloth had been hastily erected in front of the stables, and several tables were set up underneath.
A few of the Lendr—generals from the four clans, under Lenn’s command—gathered there, talking emphatically amongst themselves.
And a steady stream of soldiers and servants alike came in and out of the main entrance, ferrying food and water to the rest of the injured people tarrying in the courtyard.
By the look of some of them, I shuddered to think of those admitted to the infirmary. These injuries looked serious enough—the ones inside would be worse, by far.
I tore my wide-eyed gaze away, ducking my head and hoping Lenn’s imposing size would conceal me. Shame seeped from every pore. They couldn’t see me like this.
Lenn ushered me up the steps, avoiding those racing in and out with practiced steps. Considering what happened, he seemed strangely calm. His grip on my shoulder tightened as he steered me past the gilded arch of the throne room and down the northern corridor.
It was quieter here, though my sharp hearing still picked up the echoes of shouts coming from the entrance hall and, further down, the infirmary.
We came to my chambers on shaky steps. There was no sign of the dragons in the hall or in the antechamber, a thought that sent a confusing spiral of fear through my mind. What happened to them?
Lenn herded me into a wing-backed chair and placed his enormous hands on my shoulders. “Do not move, Asvoria,” he said. “I’ll return shortly.” He whirled away, heavy fur cloak sweeping behind him.
“Where are you going?” I asked, mouth feeling full of cotton. My throat protested painfully against the words and I tasted the acerbic sting of sulfur.
He stopped at the open door, staring me down with barely concealed rage. “You are hurt ,” he snapped. “I’m going to the infirmary. Do not leave this room.”
I slumped back in the chair. Shocks of pain sliced up my arm—the injury called for a practiced healer. But after what I’d seen…
“The healers are required in the infirmary, and there are others outside worse off than me. I’m fine, Lenn.”
“I’ve seen enough wounds in my day,” he shot back. “That wrist is broken and needs tending to, unless you want to live the rest of your life with use of only one hand.”
An image of dark tendrils of power wrapped around my fingers sprang to mind. No… with an assassin on the loose and myrkva attacks becoming more frequent, I needed to be in fighting form.
“Alright,” I conceded quietly.
Satisfied, he stormed back into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind him.
An uncomfortable silence descended in his wake. I glanced at the untended hearth as an icy draft swept through the room, making me shiver and draw my grimy cloak tighter around me with my one good hand. I looked at my left wrist and raised it gingerly for closer inspection.
My dirty skin was visibly red and swollen, radiating warmth. The pain pulsed in time with the beating of my heart. I gritted my teeth against the agonizing throb and cradled the injured limb against my chest. How did I not realize I’d suffered such damage?
The thrill of battle can lull you into a trance, the Shadow murmured, her voice frail.
I went rigid at her sudden interjection. She’d been quiet for so long I assumed she’d gone dormant to rest from the ordeal.
What happened to us out there? I asked, unwilling to let the opportunity pass.
She flickered weakly, like a candle flame caught in a breeze. It’s that dragon, Asvoria. He is connected to us somehow. It was his rage that disrupted our focus and made the darkthread reform.
How is that possible?
I don’t know, she admitted, releasing a long sigh. I must rest. We will discuss this later.
She didn’t wait for me to respond before retreating from my consciousness, coiling into her corner and going still. I shuddered at her withdrawal and the icy numbness left behind, but I knew it was necessary. My bed was calling to me from across the room for the same reason.
The door to the corridor swung open and a woman in a deep blue gown swept gracefully into the room, followed by Lenn. She had long, silver hair trailing down her back in a neat braid and kind, blue eyes. They crossed the room, stopping before my chair.
“Helene is the best healer Clan Ylfring has to offer,” Lenn said with a gesture to the stunning woman.
I shot Lenn a look. While I’d agreed to let him get me a healer, I didn’t think he’d go straight for the best one. Of course, this was Lenn. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Helene gave me a reassuring smile, the act lighting up her angular face. “May I?” she asked as she reached for my injured arm.
I nodded, drawing in a deep breath to steel myself against the inevitable pain. Though I’d never experienced it, I’d witnessed enough hardened soldiers brought to their knees beneath the snap of a set bone.
She lifted my arm, straightening it out to peer at the injury. I watched in wonder as she feathered her fingers over my wrist, wisps of gentle warmth emanating from each delicate touch. Pink light haloed around her hand, illuminating my pale skin and showing the blood vessels beneath the surface.
“You’re lucky, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice as soft as her examination. “This could have been much worse. I assume you attempted to break your fall with this arm?”
I thought back to the events at the Southern Gate, fighting through the fog. “I believe so,” I answered, unable to remember much more than the pain in my chest from the darkthread. But it seemed the most likely scenario.
She hummed in response, steadying her grip on the bottom of my forearm. Diffusions of pink light emerged from her fingers as she raised her other hand. “There may be some discomfort,” Helene explained, “and a bit of pressure.”
The tendons in my arm reacted to her touch, aching and pulling. My arm moved against my will and the muscles vibrated rapidly. Helene drew her fingers together into a point, and… Snap!
I cried out as the fractured bone in my wrist mended in an instant, sending a jolt of pain up my arm and shoulder.
“A bit of pressure? Really?” I seethed through clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes against the sting.
The woman chuckled congenially, resting her glowing hand atop my wrist and sweeping up my arm in one fluid motion. As her hand drew away, the throbbing ache disappeared along with it. I opened my eyes to see that my wrist looked good as new.
“Better?” Her mouth turned up in amusement.
I nodded, flexing and rolling my wrist to test the movement. “Much. Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty,” Helene said, bowing. When she straightened up, she turned to Lenn. “If you’ll excuse me, Thane Reijason, I must get back to the infirmary.”
“Of course,” he replied. When she was gone, Lenn cleared his throat unceremoniously, drawing my gaze. “You should get yourself cleaned up and try to rest. I’ve a feeling there’ll be a conclave today.” This last part he muttered more to himself, but the truth of it struck in my still-aching chest.
Joints and muscles screaming in protest, I rose from the chair, stretching my back. Dirt, grime, and worse things clung to my skin. My hair was a tangled bird’s nest. Yes, a bath would do me good.
“Thank you, Lenn,” I said, holding in a groan as I released the stretch. “When you see them, please inform the Jarlum we’ll proceed with the oath-taking ceremony this evening as planned.”
His shoulders stiffened, and a dark look passed over his face. He seemed to chew on his words for a few moments before he finally spoke. “Are you certain that is wise?”
“We should continue on,” I said, squaring my shoulders with effort.
“This attack was horrific, for more than one reason. But we will do as we have always done, Lenn, and refuse to live our lives in fear. Besides”—I hedged for only a moment, pushing through my uncertainty forcefully—“the ceremony is a formality that must be upheld, especially if we want to maintain the farce that we don’t suspect the dragons of any treachery. ”
It was a flimsy excuse, but one I had to make. Hopefully Lenn wouldn’t see through it to the unsettlement beneath the surface. Something happened out there at the wall—something that… changed things.
The look Lenn gave threatened to crumble my facade, but it faded away with the heavy breath he released. “Whatever you want, Vor. But…”
“But, what?”
He ruffled his shoulders, stretching his neck until it popped. “I think we should discuss what happened out there.”
My mind froze, gripped by a fear I could neither name nor place. How could I discuss it with Lenn when I hadn’t even begun to process it myself?
“Later,” I said after a pause, shuffling back. “I’d like to at least bathe before I’m put through the wringer. That is generally the order of things, isn’t it?”
My attempt at lightheartedness was not rewarded with Lenn’s usual smile. That sent a creeping tingle of nervousness all over my body. Whatever storm brewed in his gaze, he kept it to himself. He merely released a gravelly huff and exited the room.
I sagged under the weight of his disregard as I moved toward the bathing chamber.
A sinking feeling that I’d disappointed him in some way settled in my stomach.
I didn’t want to think about why that could be.
My mind was already a raging fire. Hopefully a relaxing bath would douse the flames of uncertainty.