My eyes widen, and my stomach gives an involuntary roll. “What do you mean it stayed?” I press a hand against my chest like I’m trying to feel it. “Are you sure?”
He gives a terse nod. “Positive. Even now, I can sense it, but it’s rooted into you. No matter how many times I’ve tried, it won’t come out.”
Uneasiness shuffles down my spine, and I swallow hard. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” he says with such decisive confidence that I’m not sure if it’s actually true or if he’s just willing it to be so. “I’ve checked you countless times, sometimes for hours on end, but the rot isn’t doing anything harmful. It’s just...there.”
“Has this ever happened before?”
“Never.”
I’m still pressing a hand to my sternum, so I let my hand drop. “You’ll keep checking?” I ask, unable to keep the worry from my tone. “You’ll tell me if anything changes?”
“I promise.”
I nod slowly, trying to acclimate to this new fact, though I have a feeling I won’t be able to for a while. “I want to go inside now.”
Slade looks like he wants to say something else, but he stops himself. “Okay, Goldfinch.”
On near silent steps, I follow him back through the cave to the Grotto, passing by its stone walls, all the more appreciative of its shadowed haven. Of all its secret splits and nooks, because I feel like I have just as many crannies hidden in myself.
But even a haven stops being a refuge at some point.
So when we walk back inside and the door closes behind me, I shouldn’t be surprised at the sudden chill that spreads over my skin. It’s a warning that the first knot in the string I’ve been trying to ignore has been pulled out, and now, everything in me feels looser. Unsteady.
And I have a feeling that no matter how much I try to bunch it back up, all of me is going to come unbound anyway.
CHAPTER 17
AUREN
That chilled premonition doesn’t takelong to come into effect.
I barely have time to slip off the boots next to the fireplace when I hear someone come up behind me, and I automatically tense.
“Lady Auren.”
I spin around, surprise making my eyebrows jump. “Hojat?”
The army mender is wearing borrowed clothes that are a bit too big on him, his brown hair longer than the last time I saw him. The dragged-down scarring of his eye seems more pronounced from the lighting of the fire, his skin mottled with red and white.
“It’s good to see you awake,” the mender says, wearing a soft, crooked smile. “How are you feeling?”
The answer is automatic. “I’m fine.”
Hojat tuts as he comes over to me, giving Slade a nod in passing. “Come into the bedroom, please, so I can look you over.”
Every muscle from my toes to my neck goes tense.
“No, thank you, really.”
His burned mouth creases into a frown. “My lady, I understand it is sensitive, but this is for your health, and I must—”
“I said I’mfine.” My hands go to the coat I’m wearing, pulling it tighter around me like a wraparound shield. Even to me, theI’m finesounds like a collection of lies. A platitude of denial made up of heated stalling and forced ignoring.
Hojat’s eyes flick over to Slade, and they seem to communicate something silently between them. A thick hesitation fills up the room, pushing up against me like a turbulent wave come to knock me under.
“It’s imperative, Lady Auren,” Hojat says carefully, and I hate the pity I see in his eyes, because it certainly doesn’t bode well for me. “You do not want infection to set in.” His accent pulls at hist’s like his tongue wants to drag them under, but the only thing dragging me under is this descending panic.
