Her golden skin darkens, but she shrugs. “I was curious.”
“You don’t need to worry about Kaelen. He won’t hurt you.” Turning away, I pack the jars back into my belt and tie it around my waist. “You ready?”
“For what?”
I nod at the boots positioned at the end of her bed. “You’re with me today. And I have work to do.”
An understatement, after the last few days. I’ve missed far too many hours in the medical wing, and there are patients to see. Lyra follows behind me as I stride up the steps. “What will I be doing?”
“Helping, hopefully.” I look for Kaelen, but he’s nowhere to be found. I know he wouldn’t have left through the night, but it grates that he vanished the moment he heard our footsteps. “Follow me.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She keeps pace beside me as we cross the courtyard. A few soldiers head past on their way to training with Eldritch, faces turning to gawk in her direction. Lyra ignores them, her attention focused on me as I pushthrough the main doors and head down the corridor. “About the self-defense.”
“It’s an interesting concept.”If a little concerning.“And my answer is that you don’t need to worry about it. Will you tell me about Lightbringer healers?”
Her feet slow, but then she catches up as I turn the corner. “What about them?”
The large, arched double doors are on my right, and I push them open without knocking. “Anything. I’ve never had the opportunity to see them in person.”
But I’ve heard stories. Stories of knitting together flesh and bone with nothing more than light, of gaping, mortal wounds wiped away to leave clean skin behind. I raise a hand in silent greeting to Nesra. My assistant’s eyes travel between me and the Lightbringer I’ve brought with me, widening further with every second, and I give her a warning glance before leading Lyra over to my worktable. “Take a seat.”
But she’s looking at my stores. The wall is covered in jars—hundreds upon hundreds of them in various colors and sizes for easy identification, stored on thick, solid shelves that stretch up to reach the sloping ceiling with a ladder for ease of access. Most contain herbs and oils to assist the healing of anyone who crosses my door. Some of them are more precious than others, given Umbraxis’s limited resources. Lyra’s eyes linger on the jar that I added last night, and I curse myself silently for not putting it elsewhere, beyond her sight. “Where did you get those? Iskra leaves are native to Solvandyr.”
I don’t say anything at first. When Lyra leans forward, her hand reaching for the jar, I move faster. She doesn’t flinch as my hand wraps around her wrist. Only looks at me with her fire-eyes, the flames that surround her irises bright and spitting sparks.
“Or,” I say softly, “you could explain to me exactly why you were carrying poison sewn into your dress when I found you in the Veilspire.”
She deflects my question with an ease that confirms whatever suspicions lingered in my head as I watched her sleep, shooting her response sharply back at me. “Why did you offer the Binding?”
I don’t let go of her wrist, tugging her a little closer. “Because you owed me a life-debt, and I intend to claim it.”
I can see the panic now, though she makes an excellent effort at hiding it. It’s in her eyes, in the way the flames jump and grow. “What does that mean?”
“I meant what I said,” I shake her, not hard but enough to try to shake some damned sense into her. “I saw someone who needed help. And so I’m giving you a choice, Lyra. Or I could have told the Council what it means for a Lightbringer to carry Iskra leaves in their pocket, and Nythen would have you torn open by now, spilling every secret inside that pretty little head.”
I claimed her through a Binding, linked us together to make her betrayal impossible. A Lightbringer spy she may be, but she doesn’t have to die for it. “You owe me a life-debt, and so you can’t break the Binding even at the cost of your own life. This is a chance to leave it all behind. Start again.”
For whatever time we have left. But she likely knows that just as well as I. Everybody here is living on borrowed time. “And if Umbraxis falls, you can run.”
It’s not a matter ofif, butwhen. But I can’t say the words out loud. When I die in battle—unconnected to any bargain we’ve made—the Binding will break, and she’ll be free once more.
Lyra tugs her arm from my grip, and I let her go, watching as she sinks down onto the stool. Her eyes assess me more carefully now. There’s a sharpness to them she no longer tries to hide. “And here I was, surprised that Duskbane would allow me tobe alone with you. You’re not as gentle as you pretend to be,healer.”
“You would do well to remember that.” I turn away, flicking through the parchment of notes I started before riding out to the Veilspire. Before the seething Lightbringer beside me flipped my whole world upside down.
“So it seems,” she mutters. I leave her to stew over her circumstances while I speak to Nesra.
The older soldier eyes Lyra warily, pushing shaggy gray hair from her eyes. “I heard you brought back something interesting from the Veilspire. A tame Lightbringer. You really offered her a Binding?”
I jerk my head in confirmation. “Thanks for stepping in while I was gone. Where are we with the current intake? Any issues?”
Keeping watch on Lyra in the corner of my eye, I walk between the two rows of beds that take up most of the long room. The few patients here are still sleeping at this hour. Nesra reels off their current status, but I’m pleased to see so many beds empty. Only three remain, all of them soldiers injured on patrol. “This is excellent. Thanks for keeping the place going.”
“Anytime. I’m due back on patrol tomorrow, if you can make do without me.”
Hesitating, I nod. If we stay quiet, it’s no problem. “I wish I could steal you, but I don’t want Eldritch after me. Thanks for doing this.”
After she leaves, I make my way back to Lyra. “I want to work on your hands again, while the rest are sleeping.”
