“I didn’t injure myself. You stabbed me. Again. Twice.”
Her entire being went utterly still. “I stabbed you.”
“Twice,” he repeated.
“With what?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “Daggers. What else would you stab me with?”
“Mydaggers? What color were the blades?”
Seemingly at a loss, he stared at her.
“Were they silver or black?” she pushed.
“Black,” he said in curiosity. “Why does that matter?”
But she scarcely heard him. Not with the whooshing in her ears as her heart rate spiked. It wasn’t possible.
“Where are they?” she demanded, shoving back the furs again.
“Kailia, what are you doing? Stay in bed.”
“Where are my daggers?” she insisted. “You can’t keep all my things, Cethin. I already agreed to the marriage. What else do you want from me?”
His eyes were wide as he lurched up from his chair, attempting to stop her. “Kailia, just— Calm down. The daggers are downstairs.”
“Why? They are mine.”
“And you’ve been asleep. Although Tybalt does have questions about them.”
He wasn’t touching her, but he was standing close enough that if she tried to get out of the bed,she’dtouch him.
“I want them back.”
“You’ll get them back,” he said, lifting a hand before a swirl of black appeared. “After Niara checks you over.”
“I’m not a child, Cethin,” she retorted. “You don’t actually get to decide when I get my own belongings back.”
He smirked. “Tell that to your arrow.”
“Should’ve stabbed you three times,” she muttered, sinking back into the pillows.
Cethin chuckled, and she ignored him, looking anywhere else. But without his distracting conversation, she went right back to the daggers and the stabbing and the whole fight in the forest. She couldn’t have stabbed him with the same daggers. No one survived being struck with one. It didn’t matter where.It could be the smallest knick to the arm; they still crossed the Veil, and she’d beenverycareful not to have them on her in his presence lately due to the way he provoked her.
A minute later, there was a soft knock before Niara came into the room, followed by Razik and Tybalt. So many people. So many hands and fingers. So much proximity.
She immediately stiffened as Niara approached, wincing at the tension and strain on her torso.
“Please tell me she hasn’t been out of that bed,” the Healer said tightly.
“She needed the bathing room,” Cethin answered, once again watching her closely. “She will not hurt you, Kailia. You know that, right? You know Niara. And Razik and Tybalt.”
She knew all of them, but it didn’t assuage the growing panic. The burns and the hands from the last fight and from her dream lingered. She tried to focus on her breathing, wishing she was outside. The feel of the earth beneath her feet was grounding. A dagger to run her fingers along would be nice too, but it would invite more questions if she conjured one now.
Niara had paused at the foot of the bed, also studying her far too closely. All of them were. As if she were some foreign thing they weren’t sure how to interact with. The feeling was mutual. She’d been plucked from the security of her ashes and smoke and forced to be among the masses. And that thought had her remembering that she’d tried to move among them during the attack. Or after? At one point, she’d tried, and still had been stuck. It was all so…suffocating.
“I only need to inspect the wound and apply a new dressing,” Niara said after several beats of awkward silence. “However, if you’d rather Cethin do the actual touching, I am amenable to that. I only need to see it. I can instruct him.”
