With vague surprise, I looked down at myself. There were cuts on my clavicle, a slash on my arm. The gorse thorns…they’d been knifelike, but I’d hardly noticed the pain.
As Vercha fretted, seeming now more worried about my dress than my injuries, my gaze slid to the nobles behind her.
I’d nearly died. One of the other Floodmouthshad.I scanned the ballgoers, trying to spot anyone looking grieved, wondering which House the fallen Orha had belonged to, but everyone I could see was wide-eyed and gossiping. Knocking back the dregs of their pale-green punch.
I opened my mouth to say something like “I’m fine,” but nothing came out. Instead I swayed. My limbs burned from the climb up the hill, my dress was waterlogged, weighing me down, and my throat was raw from swallowing seawater.
“Corith—” Vercha started, but a bulky figure blocked her.
“Floodmouth,” came Rexim’s deep, grating voice, pitched so only the family could hear. He leaned in close, cheeks flushed with anger; and was there a shade of humiliation there, too? “Miss Haney has been lauding your efforts. Though you seemed like nothing special to me, I’ve been happy, thus far, to trust her judgment. Now I see I was foolish to do so.”
His eyes darted to the nobles around us, his tone sharpening even further. “While you were off idling gods know where, the otherHouses’ Floodmouths were reporting for duty. One had to step up and lead in your absence.”
I took a step back, chest constricting uncomfortably.
“Thanks in part to this sorry excuse for a Floodmouth,” he hissed, glancing at Tigo, Rhianne, and Mawre, “your home—a templecenturiesold—is now little more than a pile of rubble. You’ll all have to move into the castle proper. Tell Miss Haney to open up East Tower.
“And as for you…” He loomed over me, making me shrink. “With the vote weeks away, I can’t be seen to be running anything less than a fully competent household. I’ll be writing to Arbenhaw first thing tomorrow to let them know to expect you back. You can spend tonight in East Tower, too, but don’t bother making yourself at home there.”
Face pinched as though I were a clump of mud on his boot sole, he stalked off, his fur-lined cloak swishing.
Vercha hurried after her father, calling to him to wait. I couldn’t bring myself to meet the others’ gazes. All I wanted was to curl into a ball.
Llir seemed to rouse himself. “Tigo,” he said, voice pitched low, “take some other Mudmouths and inspect the Orha’s tower. What’s left of it, anyway. Make it as safe as you can. We don’t want it collapsing on any gawkers tonight.” He looked me over briskly. “Mawre—towels and dry clothes for Corith. And Rhianne—hot brandy. Bring them to Miss Haney’s office.”
Jerking into motion, they went their separate ways.
I glanced at Llir, caught off guard. It was the first time I’d heard my name on his lips.
“Come on,” he said, “you need to sit down.” He tipped his chin toward the housekeeper’s office. But when I tried to walk, my legs went weak, failing to carry the weight of my dress. After a moment’s hesitation, he moved in next to me, sliding a velvety arm beneath myshoulders. I shuffled along, pressed in next to him, acutely—almost painfully—aware of his warm frame.
It was a relief to be out of the drizzle, away from the curious stares of the guests. As I limped into the office, I glimpsed myself in a mirror: dress so wet it was black instead of purple, stained with blood, its lace sleeves shredded. Strands of dark-copper hair over my face. Eyes shadowed with fatigue and smudged powder.
I sank gratefully onto a bench near the hearth—the couch looked more inviting, but I didn’t want to stain it. A small fire snapped and crackled in the grate.
Llir leaned tiredly against the wall across from me. As he pushed a hand through his rain-dark hair, I noticed his doublet and hose were soaked, too, his dancing shoes ruined. Had he been one of those watchers on the battlements?
“I couldn’t do it,” I croaked out, exhausted. “Some of the others, they—they held it back a bit, but—” I faltered, staring down at my chapped hands.
He let out a breath through his nose, resigned. “I don’t really know what they expected you all to do out there.”
“Why send us, then?” I said, an edge to my voice. I couldn’t help but look up at him accusingly.
He frowned. “It was Osprey’s idea,” he said, tone clipped. “They’re very powerful. Lots of influence. The Brigantess said Father should take advantage of it, all these Floodmouths here in one place. Try to ensure nothing important got destroyed.”
With a splinter of guilt, I thought of the tower.
“Avocet and Turnstone agreed with them,” he added.
“But your father has more influence than any of them, surely? He’s about to win the Chamber Seat, after all.”
Llir’s eyes darted away. “Father…chose to assent, too.” In thedistance, a growl of thunder sounded. “I suppose he wants to keep the big players onside.”
They were all as bad as each other, I thought viciously. Worse when they were together—when they wanted to impress.
I swallowed, remembering Rexim’s declaration. It was over, I realized with a creeping sickness: my task for the Cage, any hope of my reward…I’d lost my tools anyway. It was all on Avrix now. I’d be sent back to Arbenhaw to await a new placement and never find out what the Cage knew about Zennia.
“They’ll send me down to drain the marshes,” I said flatly. “Or to sail in some navy somewhere.” I met his eye. “I hope your next stint without a Floodmouth is shorter, and less of a burden than it clearly was after Zennia.”
