At that, I flinched far more than I had over my injury. “Possibly.”
My heart beat a little harder as I turned to sit in the desk chair and found her attention on me. Her eyes met mine. I’d been so sure she’d never look at me again.
“That would mean Marigold was innocent,” she said, her voice flat.
“Possibly,” I replied. “I caught her with a spelled paper bird a few days ago, which she claimed was just for fun. It was blank inside. But I think she was sending others.”
It was as honest as I could get. We’d never really know if it was both or neither of them who were at fault.
Sofie, though—I expected her to have an opinion on it. But she said nothing.
“Your stitches,” was all she said, standing slowly and closing the distance between us.
Without saying anything further, I offered her the needle and thread and raised my arm. Sofie crouched on the outside of my knee, brow furrowing as she worked. Her elbow rested besidemy leg, on the edge of the chair, the side of her hand grazing me. Her hands were like ice next to my skin.
While she worked, I held so still I might’ve been part of the furniture nailed down in the room.
“Done.”
I checked her work, only to find her hand still hovered over my side, extended flat, as if she meant to pat my side or lay her hand on the muscles there. Then she recoiled and stood. I half wondered if I’d imagined it, an attempt at an almost tender—or at least familiar—gesture. One she would not allow herself to complete.
I cleared my throat and reached for my shirt, forced to wear the soiled one until some of my belongings were pulled out of storage onTemerityor one of my other ships. When my head lifted, I found Sofie back on the edge of the bed, hugging herself.
Her teeth were chattering. Her entire body shook.
I was at her side in a moment, pulling her up from the bed and into my arms. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, my hand wound into her vivid red hair, cradling the back of her head as the battle shock wracked her body.
“It’s over now,” I murmured into the crown of her head, my lips brushing strands of that dwarvish red hair of hers. I whispered soothing words to her, words I did not believe myself. Nothing helped.
I held her tighter, feeling the fear coursing through her.
I don’t know how long we stood like that. I would’ve held her longer. She was still trembling when she pulled away, stalking towards the other side of the room, then pacing back towards me, small hands curled into fists as if she was furious with herself.
Ah. She was. The powerful sorceress who had saved the rest of us was berating herself for not savingallof us.
“You know how battles go,” I reminded her. “There is always chaos. Plans amount to naught.”
“I’ve never been in a battle before.”
I froze. “What?”
“I said—”
“No, I heard you. How—why—no, how? You’re a powerful sorceress!”
“Do you think anyone dares to make war with Elchion, when they have loyal sorceresses and sorcerers of Dewspell at their disposal?” She was back to being cross with me now. It was oddly reassuring. “No one wants to unleash a chaos-wielding sorceress on a battlefield. Not even Dewspell. I never even had battle training.”
I was silent a moment. “It doesn’t seem as though you needed it.”
“But I wasn’t prepared!” Her hands gestured wildly, emptily. “I’ve never prepared a spell under so much pressure. I never learned battle triage magic—I’m a terrible healer, but I should’ve learned. I should’ve made sure I was taught, I—”
It only took moments to be at her side again. Again, I caught her up in an embrace, quelling the last of her trembling. This time, my words weren’t nonsense.
“There is nothing more you could’ve done.”
“That’s not true.”
“There isnothing moreyou could’ve done.”
