“By stabbing me with your tiny sword?” I hold up the needle I pulled from her hand, and she frowns.
“I was closing your wound.”
“By making more wounds?”Am I teasing her?
“I was sew— Wait. You’re speaking English? How?” She stands and looks at me like I’ve done something impossible.
“The same way as you. With my mouth.” Her expression pinches in annoyance, so I add, “I learned it. Now, explain what you were doing to me with your sewing sword.” I cannot tell if I am being playful or mean, but both are out of character for me. Perhaps I have lost more blood than I thought?
“I was stitching your wound closed.” She makes a sewing gesture with her hands, and I nearly smile.
“Ah, a seamstress of the flesh.” I give her a wink and offer the needle back.
She doesn’t take it, but her cheeks burn a brighter shade of red.“Do you really not know what stitches are?”
“It is much more fun to pretend I do not.” Iamteasing her.
Her lips betray a smile, and she shakes her head, sendinganother strange flutter through my chest. “Is it safe to say you aren’t mad I kept you alive?”
My stomach drops as the reality of my situation comes rushing back with sickening speed. The joy I was feeling disappears, and I am left with a hollow pit in my chest. She saved my life, but she also cost me my throne. I should not be enjoying light conversation; I should be determining if she is a threat. My claws bite into my palms. I need to know why she is here. Who sent her? What is her purpose?
“How did you gain access to my cell?” I ask, my tone both commanding and sharp. To my surprise, her expression hardens into a look of disgust.
“So youarepissed I saved you.”
“How did you gain access to my cell?” I repeat more firmly.
Her brows raise. “Wow, from charming to charmingly aggressive in ten seconds flat. You know, I’m almost impressed.” She waits for me to respond, but I hold steady until she breaks. “For fuck’s sake, ok. The guards opened your cell after you passed out. I asked them to help since I couldn’t without sedating you—at least not legally—but they just stood there like a couple of sentient paperweights. So, I took action.”
“The guards let you in?”
She shifts her weight, but her expression remains hard. “They didn’t fling open the doors and wave me in like some long-awaited messiah, no.”
Some of her words are unfamiliar, but it is clear she is being sarcastic. Possibly trying to hide guilt or deception? Yet her face shows no signs of deceit. Strange. This must be a defense mechanism of some sort. Perhaps she is more wary of me than I thought?
“And neither guard tried to stop you?” I ask, softeningmy tone.
“Obviously not.”
I glance at the closed door. “Why is the door shut?”
“I don’t know, maybe because they shut it behind me?”
“Is it locked?”
She tilts her head forward, purses her lips, and stares at me through long lashes. “What is this? Twenty questions?” When I don’t respond, she sucks her teeth and folds her arms over her chest. “No, they didn’t ask me to help you. No, they didn’t try to stop me. Yes, they shut the door and locked it. And yes, I’m your only hope of staying alive.” She lets out a heavy breath. “You know, you were a lot more fun before you started interrogating me.”
“Why did they lock you in here?”
“This might come as a shock, but they didn’t give me an explanation.”
I run a hand down my face, trying to process the information she’s provided. Under normal circumstances, the guards would never allow someone to break Gaius’s laws—it is their job to enforce them—but according to this nurse, they just stepped aside and let her in. If what she says is true, it reveals something far more sinister than incompetence.
A weight settles in my chest. It seems my fears were not unfounded.
My eyes flick back to hers, and a tightness grips my spine. Her expression is cold and too similar to the stony features of Xelora. It is strange. Eerie even. And so achingly familiar.
“Did you know my contract stated I was not to receive medical treatment?” I ask, pleased that my English is already improving.
