Remy gave a humorless smile. “I’ll find out who ordered the hit.”
And the way he said it?—
Gods help whoever it was when he did.
Zander kept one hand gently at my back as he led me through the corridors. His touch wasn’t demanding, it was protective, a tether against the whirlwind that still spun inside me.
I was exhausted. Not just from the fight or the attempt on my life, but from the lingering aftershocks of Perin’s magic. My insides still ached like they’d been wrung out and put back wrong. Every breath was shallow. Every step a quiet defiance.
Meri looked up the moment we stepped into the healers’ quadrant, already reaching for her satchel.
“She needs rest,” Zander said before I could open my mouth.
“She needshealing,” Meri corrected gently. “Sit.”
I didn’t argue. I sank onto the edge of the nearest cot, my legs trembling with the relief of being off them. The clean scent of salve and pressed linen filled the air, grounding me in ways magic couldn’t.
Meri knelt before me, her fingers featherlight as she tilted my face toward the light. “That slice’s shallow. Clean. But the energy under your skin’s another matter.”
“I tried to heal,” I admitted, wincing as she pressed a palm to my ribs. “It didn’t go well.”
“You’re too depleted,” she murmured.
Her magic came soft and slow, like sunlight through fog. It seeped into the wounds under my skin, easing the burn where Perin’s power had curled through my muscles and tendons like knives. I exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.
Zander stood behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight. Watching me like he couldn’t quite relax.
When Meri finished, she rose and turned to him, her expression somber. “Your father’s condition has worsened.”
Zander stilled.
“He’s wasting away,” she added. “If you want to speak to him while he stillknowsyou, it should be soon.”
His features shifted, pain, regret, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.
“I’ll go,” he said after a beat.
I touched his arm. “I’ll go with you.”
“As will I,” Meri said.
He looked at me then, truly looked at me. And nodded. Quietly. Gratefully.
Meri walked beside us as we ascended the winding staircase, her healer’s robes whispering against the stone steps. She didn’t speak, and neither did we. The air in the castle was too still, like it had already braced itself for death.
Zander’s jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscles ticking in his cheek. I stayed close to his side, matching his pace, even as unease coiled tighter in my chest with each step. When we passed the upper corridor, a pair of castle guards eyed me. No scorn, no welcome. Just a weighted silence I didn’t know how to read.
At the top, two more guards opened the king’s chamber doors without a word. They didn’t meet Zander’s eyes.
I stepped inside, expecting the scent of incense or medicine.
Instead, it smelled like dust.
And death.
The King of Warriath lay beneath a canopy of dark velvet and gold-threaded sheets, but no finery could mask the truth of what he’d become.
My breath caught.
