Chapter 17
There’s a healer, who introduces herself as Nettie, awaiting me on the other side of the river, along with Kyor and Elska. There’s no golden beam of light shooting upwards into the air right now, but I’m well aware how they knew to come, knew they were needed.
Thank you, I tell Fen.
I suspected you would wish for your mate.
I did, I admit. So much.
Kyor’s face is a study in conflict: relief that I’m alive and anguish that I’m hurt, which becomes even more evident when I place my foot on the ground and yelp involuntarily as pain shoots up from my ankle.
‘What happened?’ Kyor asks urgently.
I shake my head. ‘In truth, I don’t know. I got overwhelmed, I think. Had a bad fall.’
Nettie closes in first and starts her work instantly, while Kyor reaches out and gently laces his fingers through mine.
‘All done now,’ the healer says a while later, moving her hands off my shoulder. ‘The ankle was a nasty break. Might be a little sore for a while, so you’ll need to take it easy, but it’ll be fine in no time. I can give you something for the aches and pains in the meantime, if you would like?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you,’ I tell her.
It’s impossible not to appreciate how easily my shoulder was healed compared to Kyor’s.
Then again, he had a spear through his, lost close to a deadly quantity of blood, and the only person we could go to for help was a second-rate slum healer with next to no provisions.
Not to mention that bones are generally more straightforward to heal.
‘Maybe you should take something anyway,’ Kyor suggests. ‘Just in case.’
‘It’ll be fine. We’ve still got plenty of the Robbard’s if I need it, right?’
‘Right, yes, of course. Plenty. Still, you should ride Fen back. Rest up.’
That’s not something I’m going to disagree with. Once again, I’ve spent a day doing practically nothing, but I’m surprisingly tired. Being unconscious takes it out of you, apparently.
‘Yeah. I’ll tell you about the second stage when we’re with the others. Saves me repeating it.’
‘Sure,’ Kyor agrees easily. He climbs on Elska and we trot back side by side.
Back at the palace, the others are all waiting just inside the door, pacing the hall.
All of them … although it takes me a moment to recognise Loch; his transformation is that dramatic.
He’s not clutching his head, not rocking or rambling, and his eyes are sharper and clearer than I’ve ever seen them.
Not only that, but his skin has colour again, and with the way he holds himself, I can actually believe he was once a member of the Eastern Isles court. I don’t think he even looked this good at the start of the Retterheld.
‘Rosey, thank the Gods.’ Ruben engulfs me, breaking my awkward staring moment. As he holds me in the hug, welcome warmth sweeps through my body, from the very tips of my toes to the tops of my ears.
‘Thanks, I needed that,’ I admit as I go to draw away.
‘You can have a bit longer than that,’ Ruben murmurs, upping the warmth by just a fraction. I’m unsure whether this hug is for me or for him, but either way, it’s appreciated. With a soft sigh, he finally releases me, although his hand remains on my arm as his eyes scan me up and down.
‘Don’t worry, I’m all healed up,’ I assure him.
‘But you were hurt?’ Benny asks, eyes narrowing as he fixes in on the ankle I’m being careful not to put too much weight on.
‘Yeah, but I’m okay now.’
‘What happened?’ Benny asks.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I say evasively.
‘So,’ Caz says impatiently, ‘tell us. The second stage?’
‘It’s done,’ I assure her.
‘But what was it? I was trying to read up on it while you were gone, but everything I found was vague. And weirdly nervous. Like it would be sacrilege to even write it down.’
‘Makes sense,’ I say before gesturing to the room behind us. We all troop in and I shut the door, giving us some semblance of privacy from our chaperones.
I don’t hesitate to tell them everything.
They deserve to hear what I’ve learned; I wouldn’t have got this far without them.
And as for it being sacrilege to share what I’ve learned, if Oel knew I had no desire to rule, he also knows that I’m not keeping anything from this group.
Not after everything they’ve risked for me.
‘Two Gods in two moons.’ Benny lets out a low, impressed whistle. ‘Does that make you double gifted?’
I roll my eyes at him but can’t find the energy for much more than that. I feel tired, wrung out, and done with being the Gods’ plaything. ‘I have no idea. I feel like it’s time to give up trying to work out what I am.’
‘No, it’s absolutely not,’ Caz counters.
‘Oel called you “Child of Four, of three, of two, and of one”. That means something. I’ll see what I can find out about it, along with the daggers, and the Myrkr and the Rottings.
Oh! And the Great War you said he also mentioned.
’ Caz looks energised, practically bouncing as she leaps to her feet and counts off her ever-increasing list of things to research.
‘Yeah, the Great War,’ Benny agrees. ‘That definitely needs some focus. If it’s that big, it might reach the Isles, so I can take the lead on that one.
’ He yawns and stretches just a shade too dramatically.
‘Although, it’ll have to wait until morning.
I need my beauty sleep.’ His eyes skirt over to Ruben, and when I see a secret smile curve Ruben’s lips, I suspect sleep isn’t on the cards for either of them tonight.
I’m glad to see the argument at breakfast has been resolved. Maybe learning that their best friend was being poisoned helped.
I’m happy to take the credit.
‘The healers think it is best if I remain close to them while we’re in the palace.
’ Loch speaks with a clarity I’ve barely heard from him before, except when making inappropriate announcements.
‘But I’m sure they will be happy to include a little time at the library.
Or you could bring books to the healers’ quarters.
I’m always happy for more reading material. ’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Thank you all for still being here.’
‘We’re not going anywhere, Rosey,’ Ruben assures me. ‘Certainly not until you’ve completed the Veil, right?’ He looks at Benny as he says this.
Benny’s jaw tightens. Any time spent with me is more time away from his home – and his responsibilities – in the Eastern Isles. All the same, he nods. ‘Not until the Veil is done,’ he agrees.
‘Thank you,’ I say again, although this time my words turn into a yawn.
Upstairs, I head straight for a shower, which I half hope Kyor will join me in, but I wash myself alone, and when I step back into our bedroom, he is already on the bed, the bottle of Robbard’s in his hand.
‘Are you still taking it?’ I ask in surprise, my pulse hitching slightly at the sight of the half-empty bottle. There’s definitely less in there than the amount I brewed. A lot less.
He shrugs as he places it on the bedside table, next to the large pile of books on Issen history that Caz found for me.
Something in Kyor’s posture rankles me. He’s been off for days now. Not himself. Not my Kyor.
‘It’s fine. I didn’t have any yesterday,’ Kyor tells me. ‘Or the day before, I don’t think. The training with Uzra and his men is taking it out of me, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t realise you were training with him today?’ I find myself seething. Wasn’t he worried about me? Pacing the floor, waiting for me to complete the second stage of the Rite of the Veil? I would’ve been doing that if it were him. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but worry.
‘No, of course not. I couldn’t concentrate with you in danger like that.
’ He raises my hand to his lips and kisses each fingertip, which would usually send me into a puddle of need.
But not today – not now. ‘But yesterday’s workout was a tough one.
You know how these things can take a while to catch up with you. ’
I stare at him.
‘Oh, can they?’ I find myself seething, all the pain, all the fear building up inside of me as I take a step away from him. ‘Kyor, tell me honestly, how much of the Robbard’s have you taken?’
He lets out a sigh. ‘I told you. A couple of drops, that’s all. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one who wanted me to train with Uzra. The old guy’s strong. Great form, too.’
I snatch up the bottle from his bedside table.
‘Kyor!’ A cry stings my throat, tears blurring my sight. ‘This bottle should have lasted moons – not weeks.’
‘I needed it,’ he pleads, fear flashing in his eyes before he drops his gaze to his lap in shame. ‘Needed it for the pain. Needed it to numb … to numb…’
Evidently his time with Uzra hasn’t been helping him at all. He’s still avoiding the issues, and I’m done tiptoeing around them. If that means facing it head-on, together, then that’s what we’ll have to do. Even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming to face the truth.
‘You need help, Kyor.’ I take a deep breath and reach out for him, cradling his cheek in my palm. ‘Love, it’s not about the pain in your shoulder, is it?’
His gaze remains down. ‘It helps a little, that’s all. Makes everything seem a little clearer. A little easier to bear.’
‘Maybe at first,’ I counter gently, my mind whirring in contrast to my soft tone.
My mother was once convinced I’d be a better healer than her, and though I’ve no formal training, I had years to observe her, and I have magic in abundance.
As always, my Morathkian powers rise with little prompting – the ones I was born with and which Etta returned to me – and it’s almost soothing to use them as I send an exploratory wave over Kyor.
I’m trying to get a sense of the grip the poison has already taken within him, and when my magic shows it to me – as black sludge oozing through him – it makes me want to weep.
He shouldn’t have been facing this alone. How did I let it get to this point?
I should have kept hold of the Robbard’s myself. A foolish error.
‘I expect you needed to take more and more each time to make it work?’ I question, trying to keep my voice even, trying to hide the panic I’m feeling at that dark shadow running through him.
‘I’ve got a grip on it!’ His eyes snap back up to meet mine.
‘No, you haven’t,’ I say calmly.
He clicks his jaw from side to side but says nothing.
A frisson of frustration ripples through me.
I’ve been here before, where a man I loved refused to accept there was something wrong.
Refused to face the truth, even though his family was crumbling under the weight of his addiction.
I was crumbling, trying to hold the pieces of our life together, managing my mother’s illness, and keeping Kay from seeing the extent to which our world was unravelling.
Right until the end, my father fought the truth. Right until he died.
I hear my mother’s voice calmly explaining addiction to me back at the beginning of my healer training. The only way to heal someone with an addiction is for them to first acknowledge that they have a problem. Without Kyor accepting that, he won’t accept a solution.
‘I’m trying to help you, Kyor,’ I push. I push like I should have done days ago. ‘That means I need you to be truthful with me. And with yourself. The pain you’re feeling, it’s not physical. It’s in your heart, in your soul. How many drops did you need this time for it to numb that pain?’
He bites his lip, but his eyes shift upwards, avoiding my gaze.
‘How many, Kyor?’ I press again.
‘Four. Maybe five.’
My stomach knots.
‘Kyor, you need to think about this logically and—’
‘Logically?’ His nostrils flare. ‘I am thinking logically! I need to be able to keep you safe, and to keep you safe I have to be able to use my powers, and that means I can’t be in pain.’ This time I hear the hurt beneath his words, the panic, the fear.
‘Kyor, love, you can fight.’ I don’t know how to stress this clearly enough. ‘Saying you have to take the tonic to defend me is a lie you’re telling yourself because the drug helps numb the other stuff. You need to be honest with yourself.’
He grunts, and I don’t know if it’s agreement or anger. Either way, I continue.
‘Have you thought about what happens when the bottle runs out? There’s not a lot left there, Kyor. And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s not a lot of anything growing around here. That includes paparvy.’
His hands are clasped on his lap, his eyes once again evading mine, and there’s something about the way his thumbs press into his palms that causes my chest to constrict even further. My eyes are hot and burning as I rake across old wounds.
‘Kyor, I need you to listen to me now because I swear to the Gods – to every God of every person on this land – that if you lie to me right now, if you hide anything, it’s over between us.’
I hate the ultimatum that falls from my lips, but I need to shock him enough that my stubborn prince will actually listen.
He finally lifts his head and looks at me. Shock is painted across his features. ‘Rose … you don’t mean that.’
I close my eyes and then I speak, knowing tears are coursing down my cheeks.
‘Yes. Yes, I do. I had an addict for a father. A good man who wouldn’t admit to his problem.
Who drank to cover his pain and refused to get the help he needed before it was too late.
’ My voice breaks, but I push through. ‘I won’t watch another person I love go the same way, Kyor.
I can’t. And I shouldn’t have to. Not again. I can’t bear it.’
‘Thorn—’ His voice is agonised.
‘No, I need you to listen to me.’ Tears roll down my cheeks freely now, whether for my past or present self – or maybe not even for me at all – I don’t know.
Nor do I care. I let them fall. ‘You have one chance, Kyor. One chance to tell me the truth. So I am going to ask you one last time. What were you planning on doing when that bottle ran out?’
A beat of silence thickens the air.
‘The priestesses,’ he mutters. ‘They have a small temple to Etta here. I think they trade for it outside the pyrrhic. I’m not sure with whom.
I smelled it while I was walking in the city when you were with Magnus the other day.
That’s what I was thinking of doing when I ran out.
Getting more Robbard’s from the priestesses, or paparvy itself, whatever I could get my hands on.
’ He drops his head into his hands as he realises how awful, how desperate, that admission is.
My stomach sinks, and I prop my hands on my knees as I try to steady myself. His pained expression is like daggers between my ribs.
‘Thorn.’ He grabs my hands and his anguished blue eyes meet mine. ‘You’re right. You’re right about it all. I … I need help.’
And with that confession, as a tear slips down his cheek, I know that we’re going to be okay. Because we’re a team. And together we will conquer this.
I gather him to me, cradling his head to my chest. ‘It’s going to be okay, my love,’ I promise as I stroke his hair. ‘I have a plan.’