“No, I can still be of use.” She tries to shrug me off.
“You’ve done all you can.” I gently help her to Anolius, who takes her arm. “You’re drained. Rest now.”
She sighs as Anolius helps her to the door.
“Make sure she rests,” I tell him. Lucidia is a fighter, and I have no doubt she’d be back in the infirmary wing before she’s recovered. I know her too well. After all, she practically raised me. My mother was far too involved in court intrigues and trying to sniff out who my father was having his affairs with to tend to me.
“Yes, my lord.” Anolius walks her into the hall as I stand.
“You are now a guest of the king.” I point at Grimelda. “You are not to leave this palace until I give you permission. Do you understand?”
She crosses her arms. “I am wilder than the wicked west wind, my lord. I can’t be forced to stay in one place. The world calls, and I must answer, for that—”
“Ten thousand gold a day.” I glare at her.
Her opal eyes light. “Done.” Another cackle rips from her as I turn toward the wounded nightlings.
The blisters are gone, but their skin is still striped from the lash and red with sun. But they are still alive. Two of them, of the nine Lord Caroldon took. I wipe a hand over my face and kneel beside the nearest one.
“I want to go home.” She looks at me, the skin around her eyes darkened with bruises. “Let me go home.”
I can’t allow them to return to the Nightlands. King Sigrid would hunt them down. They can never go home, not if they want to live, but I don’t have the heart to tell her that. Instead, I lightly stroke her sun-bleached hair. “I’m glad you’re alive. Did Grimelda’s spell help?”
“I want to go home.” Her voice is small, fragile, and if I respond too loudly, I fear she may break.
“Get some rest. You need to regain your strength.” I stand as she repeats her plea.
The other changeling watches me, her face scarred down each cheek, and her hair shorn closely to her head.
“I’m so sorry.” I kneel down beside her.
She flinches away. “Stay back.”
“I won’t harm you.”
“You already did.” She pushes away so viciously that I stand and back up lest she hurt herself.
I shake my head at her confusion. “No, I haven’t touched you. I’m not the Nightlands lord who brought you here.”
“I know who you are,” she snarls. “You knew me, too, when we met a month ago.”
My memory sparks. “You’re Lysetta.”
“I was. Now I’m nothing.” She gnashes her teeth. “Because ofyou. Because you took that deceitful Emma instead of me. Instead of all of us. This is your fault.” Her hands curl and she lunges for me.
I grab her before she hits the stone floor and wrestle her back to the cot as she tries to gouge out my eyes. Brock joins me, restraining the poor girl as she writhes and snaps her teeth.
“Where is she? She’s here. Emma is here. She did this to us!” Her scream is haunting, the sound of a wounded animal. “I hate you. Get off me!” Her words dissolve into soul-crushing cries as I pin her down. The other changeling repeats “I want to go home” louder and louder, but then they both go silent, their eyes closing.
I release Lysetta and stand. What just happened?
Brock blanches. “Are they—”
“Sleeping. Just sleeping.” Whirling, I find Grimelda right behind me.
Brock jumps between us.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to kill him, he just promised me coin. Besides, I couldn’t think with all the screaming. They’ll be fine. It’s just a small sleeping spell. Shut them up for a while, at least.”
