Chapter 46
“She needs a healer!” my rescuer cries as we pound through the tavern door. Jace and Isra appear in the corridor, both pink faced and gaping. “What are you two standing around for? Hurry the fuck up!”
Chaos ensues as the two men leap into motion. Isra draws his blade, aimed right at the woman. Jace lunges for me and inspects every inch of my skin for injuries.
“What happened?”
“Who are you?”
Their demands for answers are simultaneous as I’m rocked on to a nearby table.
“Saphine Sunwither. I’ve been tracking those Smoke fuckers since they arrived a week ago. Didn’t think I’d find another Sovereign survivor, though.”
“Do you mean Samkiel Ashar?” Isra asks, his blade still aimed toward her.
“I don’t know his name, but he’s an ugly blonde asshole.” Saphine raises her palms.
Amidst the haze of death, I take in her features. Sharp pointed chin with a nose to match. Loose silver strands framing a slender neck. My breath hitches when I catch the scar bisecting her brow…just like mine.
“Y-you wear the mark,” I murmur, but none of them hear me, still engrossed in frantic interrogation.
“She killed off most of his men, but the slimy fuck got away. I stepped in just before they could open her throat.” Her violet eyes dart from one to the other.
“Fuck, which way did he go?” Jace growls. His hands press in on my wounded abdomen. Agony pours out of me with a cry. Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve been stabbed like this. I forgot how much it hurts.
“Down the street, I lost sight when he got a block or two toward the harbor.”
My weary gaze follows Jace, as he gestures to the door. “Isra. Now.”
Isra nods and bolts for the entrance, his emerald cloak curling around the threshold as he disappears into the night.
“Jace…” My lips are dryer than parchment and my head spins. I don’t need a mirror to know I’m paler than snow. “Am I going to die?”
His dark vibrant eyes snap to me, and my chest threatens to fracture. “No starling, not if I have anything to do with it.”
I’m no stranger to that look, though—furrowed brow, withheld panic. It’s the same look Finnick wears when confronted with a job gone awry.
I attempt to raise a palm to his cheek. If I can touch him one last time, feel his warmth against my frost-barren skin, maybe death won’t be as terrifying. But my hand falters and falls back to the table.
“Try not to move, I need to get the bleeding under control,” he says. A black curl falls over his brow as he leans over my abdomen, ripping the tunic open.
I’m not concerned with the first puncture wound, that one I’m certain was clean, but the second stab wound…
His relief escapes in a short burst. “Just barely missed anything vital.”
My solace is short-lived, though, when my vision blurs around the edges. I’ve lost too much blood. Tonight might truly be my time to meet Morvayne, and by the hand of some dumb fuck Smoke soldier fresh out of basic training.
Perhaps I imagined my death to be an epic falter in battle or a tragic conclusion to an earth-shattering fight, but this is far from glamorous. The soldier was a stranger, and I’d made a simple, rookie mistake.
“Tell me everything. Who you are. Where you came from. Why you were tracking Ashar,” Jace says, venom coating every word. His hands move fast as he rips his tunic sleeve. Agony sinks its teeth in when he rolls me to wrap the makeshift bandage around my torso.
“We’re wasting time. I’ll fetch a healer first.” Saphine starts for the door.
“Right now, the woman I care about most on this godsforsaken continent is bleeding out on the table. I don’t trust you, nor will I until you sit the fuck down and talk.” The room chills to near freezing and half-lit candles flicker.
Even in my half dead state I store Jace’s words to memory. The woman he cares about most. It’s an incredibly inappropriate time to feel giddy, seeing as my insides are open to the air, but my heart flutters like a gull.
Saphine stills when our eyes meet. Violet on violet. Her jaw clenches, but she complies and finds a seat beside me.
“Ashar and his men crossed the border about a week ago. I was assigned to keep tabs on them while here, and given my past” —she gestures to her face— “I didn’t take the job lightly.
They searched every quarter of the city, every harbor, but didn’t find what they came for.
Until tonight apparently. Your companion was ambushed, and she put up a good fight, but there were too many of them.
That’s when I was forced to take action. ”
A guttural groan escapes me as Jace secures the bandage in place. “Sorry, starling. I know it hurts.”
Tears roll down the side of my face, splattering when they hit the wood grain, but the starlight in his eyes is a calming reassurance.
He’s got me, and that’s enough. I let my eyes drift shut, succumbing to the molten pain flooding my system.
Even if I meet Morvayne tonight, Jace has me. I won’t face death alone.
“And that’s it?” A pouch unbuckles, parchment rustles. There’s a shadow behind my lids like Jace outstretches his arm to retrieve something.
“Yes, that’s it. My employer is keen on staying in the know about border crossings. I was hired to watch them without making contact. Directives from our client.” Saphine’s voice cracks.
We speak a common language—her terminology and tone that of a rat. It’s not possible she’s one of Finnick’s mercenaries. Our network only extends to Smoke’s border, but maybe Sea’s underground assassins?
“You’re okay,” Jace whispers to me, stroking a gentle thumb over my cheek.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call for a healer?” Saphine asks.
“No. You will stay here until my companion returns, hopefully with Samkiel’s head.”
My body is heavier than sand when I try to move.
“Jace…” I say, but he doesn’t hear me. My fingers barely grip the table, and feeling below my waist is fading. Has the hearth burned out or is my blood icing over? Is this Morvayne’s frost taking hold?
“She’s a survivor,” I try again. “A mercenary…”
Then, Jace’s lips are there, brushing against my ear. “Try not to speak, starling. Just rest now.”
“The rider.” One more attempt, but he smoothes back my blood-matted hair and watches the violet-eyed stranger like a wolf.
“I need you to answer me plainly, Saphine Sunwither. If you lie, I’ll know, and neither of us want that.
” The threat is a low, lethal rumble at the back of Jace’s throat.
“We don’t have time for formalities, and this is not how I’d prefer to have this conversation, but there are forces beyond your understanding at play here. ”
A boot scuffs on the floor, most likely Saphine shifting uneasily in her seat. If she’s a mercenary, I don’t doubt the multitude of scenarios playing out in her head. Just as they did mine.
“Okay,” she says.
“You’re a Sovereign survivor, correct?” Jace’s thumb strokes the inside of my wrist.
“Obviously, yes,” she snips. “Sea is a sanctuary for my people, just as Storm is.”
“And what house were you born into?”
The air thickens between us. Saphine’s chair groans. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Answer the question.” Jace’s interrogation tactics are a far cry from the incessant mind games we played. He’s as quick and blunt as a battle ram, refusing a reprieve.
“I am of no house,” Saphine replies.
“Is that the answer you offer strangers or the truth?” Jace’s thumb trails the outline of my veins, up my forearm, stopping just below my bicep.
“People will die, Saphine, and not just by Ashar’s blade.
She will die. You two may very well be the only Sovereign survivors left.
Help me protect her. So, I’ll ask again. What house were you born into?”
There’s a brief moment of silence as she weighs her fate, heavier than ash falling from the skies.
Saphine draws in a long breath before speaking. “Ceti. I was born into House Ceti.”