Understanding settles over me. What power must it have taken the South Wind to travel from one end of the capital to the other in the span of time it would take a body to tumble from that height? It is not a matter of flying faster than the wind. He would need tobecomeit.
“Leave us,” Notus barks.
The guards retreat, some helping to carry the wounded onto stretchers. I look to the gates, now shut and barred. Something massive slams them from the outside. They shudder, yet hold.
There was a time when darkwalkers only emerged under the cloak of night, sunlight poison to their existence. But something has changed. They grow stronger. One day, I fear the gates’ protective runes will fail.
“Notus.” I speak quietly.
The South Wind lurches to his feet. “You will need to see a healer,” he clips out, unwilling to meet my eye. “It’s possible you sustained injuries I’m not aware of.” Then he scoops me into his arms, cradling me against his wide, solid chest. The crowd parts as he begins the return trek to the palace.
“Notus—”
“What in the gods’ names would drive you to position yourself at the gates when the city is under attack? Do you have a death wish?” Each word emerges choked, a snarl. Despite this, he holds me gently.
“Do you think I would stand by while my people were slaughtered?” I snap. “Is that the type of person you believe me to be?”
“It was a careless decision.” The Queen’s Road curves, and one cannot ignore the extent of the damage wrought. Many have already begun combing through the rubble of collapsed homes, searching for family and belongings. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
However sharp the hurt, I allow his judgment to drift over me. All I wanted was to help my people. What use am I to anyone shielded behind high walls?
“Think of me what you will,” I tell him, “but I don’t regret my actions. I would do it all over again. Ishmah is my home. I would do anything to protect my home.”
He wavers, and a bit of that wild wrath diminishes, cooling to a far more levelheaded disposition. It does little to quell the turmoil sucking me down. “I apologize,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
It’s too late for that. “Put me down.” We’ve arrived at the palace gates.
“Not until we’ve reached the infirmary.”
“Who goes?” someone calls from atop the wall.
“It’s Notus. I’ve Princess Sarai. She needs to see a healer immediately.”
The gates heave open with an ominous groan.
As we enter the main courtyard, attendants and hostlers halt their duties to watch us pass. If I were less drained, I might insist on walking myself. As it turns out, I’m perfectly comfortable in the South Wind’s arms.
The rocking motion of his gait soothes me. The scent of his skin is intoxicating. Against my will, my eyes slip closed. Then, the bright clip of Notus’ bootheels against the marble floors. After a few turns, a slightly astringent scent stuffs itself up my nostrils. My eyes snap open as he drops me onto one of the infirmary cots as if I’m no more fragile than a sack of rice.
“I need to check that the capital is secure,” he says, glancing at the doorway where the royal healer has entered. Her eyes widen upon catching sight of me.
I shift to the edge of the mattress, plant my feet on solid ground. “There are things I want to discuss with you first.”
“Can it wait?”
If it were at all possible to set someone on fire with a glare, I daresay the South Wind would be reduced to ash at this point. “No,” I say through clenched teeth. “It can’t.” The situation has become dire indeed.
The royal healer departs as quickly as she arrived, likely sensing how the air thickens. Notus peers at the door longingly, then takes a seat in a nearby armchair.
And now we sit, god and mortal, ex-lovers bound by the false promise of our engagement. No matter how I attempt to loosen my posture, tension crawls beneath my skin. “Why did you enter the labyrinth without telling me?” I demand, the words hoarse.
The South Wind rears back in surprise. “I wasn’t aware I needed to ask your permission to enter.”
“You don’t,” I snap, and am mortified by how swiftly a blush paints my cheeks. Notus is correct. He doesn’tneedto ask my permission, but would it kill him to inform me of his intentions, especially ones so dangerous? “I thought we agreed to work together on this matter.”
“We did.” His dark eyes are watchful.
No, not watchful. Confused. Hurt, even, that I would repay him saving my life with aggressive accusations. “If I hadn’t seen you enter the labyrinth,” I explain, tone softening, “I would never have known you were in there. What if you hadn’t emerged?”
