Though, knowing her luck, Vi wouldn’t exactly be surprised if something happened now that the scythe had been revealed from its hiding place.
Up two floors, Arwin came to a stop before a large, open space. The domed ceiling overhead was framed by metal and otherwise open to the stars in the twilight sky above. Glowing stones hung like pendants over three tables that quite literallygrewup from the floor—starting as stone, but transforming into branches that wove themselves in the proper shape. In the back of the room was a desk with a familiar red-haired man hunched over it. On either side of his work station were a series of tables, vials, mixing stations, and other workspaces.
Whatever Sarphos was doing must be intense, for his shoulders were pulled to his ears and his hand moved feverishly over the open page before him. Arwin cleared her throat and he nearly jumped from his seat.
“Sarphos.”
He looked over his shoulder. “What is it now?”
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Arwin leaned her hip against one of the tables.
“Why would I be happy? You’re always breaking something,” Sarphos muttered. “Or someone, I should say. What did you do to her?”
“She was worse for wear when she came in. Even mild training has her bruising.” Arwin motioned between Vi and the table. “Up with you. Let Sarphos give you a once-over.”
Vi obliged, pushing herself off the floor to sit on the edge of the table.
“Can I trust you with her?” Arwin asked, already starting for the open door. “I have to get to a meeting with the head of the city guards.Someonehas been taking up all my time today.”
“I’m not sorry,” Vi called loftily after the woman.
Arwin just snorted before disappearing, not even giving Sarphos a chance to respond.
“You two seem to be getting along better,” Sarphos observed thoughtfully.
“She still doesn’t trust me.” And that fact could be deadly to Taavin. No matter how much easy banter they exchanged, Vi needed to stay on guard.
“She likely never will.”
“Good, the feeling can be mutual then.”
Sarphos looked away from his potions, inspecting her in his peripheral vision. His expression made her wonder if she should’ve kept the thought to herself. But she had little energy to care about whatever verdict he reached about the callous remark.
These people are not your friends, Vi reminded herself. They had their own objectives and histories she didn’t understand. They were a means to an end.
“Have the morphi not been kind to you?” Sarphos asked softly, as he placed a hand on her forearm. Vi thought the motion merely reassuring until she felt a pulse of magic reverberate through her body, probing uncomfortably between her muscles.
“Everyone has been kind.”
“Yet you do not trust us?” Sarphos removed his hand from her and then pointed at her midsection where Adela had wounded her. “Lie back and let me see that.”
Vi did as instructed. “I can’t… because once anyone finds out who I am aligned with… the kindness will end.”
“Mine hasn’t,” he murmured, lifting her shirt slightly. Vi looked down at the raised scar on her abdomen. It could’ve been much worse, given the original wound.
He worked in silence and Vi stared at the glowing stone pendant above her. There was an odd, hollow ache in her—one she didn’t think any salve would be able to fix. One that would make tears prick her eyes if she wasn’t careful.
“Thank you,” Vi said finally.
“It’s my oath to heal,” Sarphos said simply and lowered her shirt.
“It’s not your oath to keep him a secret.” Vi didn’t have to specify whohewas. “Perhaps the opposite. So, thank you.”
“I still don’t know if it was the right decision.” He looked her right in the eye. “Make sure you and he prove to me that it was. Prove to me that this prophecy you’re involved in, your goals to help all the people of this world, are real. Prove to me… that I didn’t just let the murderer of morphi survive for no reason.”
Vi gave a small nod, accepting the vial Sarphos held out. She downed it, and the next, feeling steadily stronger. Over the third, she asked, “Take me to him?”
“I had already planned on it.”
