Lory swallowed the onslaught of embarrassment and folded her arms over her chest, frowning. “Speaking of eating… I could use some food.”
“You could use a lot more than that.” Scanning her head to toe, Anees pointed a finger in the air, gesturing for Lory to spin in a slow circle. “Fresh clothes, a really good hair wash”—stepping closer, she plucked a raven strand off Lory’s shoulder, rubbing it between her fingers—“and some proper healing.”
Her gaze landed on Lory’s shoulder as if she could see the wound through the fabric of her shirt.
“I thought the branding was supposed to heal on its own so it leaves a proper scar.”
Anees nodded. “It’s more a reminder for you of what they could do to you if you fail to obey.” The touch of anguish in her tone was gone too fast for Lory to assess whether it was for a friend or her own experience.
For a moment, she pondered the conversation she’d had with Khayrivven and what he’d said about why he hadn’t been executed when they found out about his magic.
“Khayrivven said something interesting about my loyalty.” She didn’t really mean to ask the phantom about such a personal thing, but she was the person closest to the captain she knew. If anyone knew what he meant, it would be her.
“What did he say?” Anees’s tone changed from cheerful to clipped, but she didn’t shut Lory down either.
“That my loyalty has been taken care of.”
Again, a flash of pain crossed the woman’s pretty face, shoulders hunching slightly as if in a silent sigh. “Hetook care of it.” The pain turned into an unreadable mask not unlike Khayrivven’s. “If you want to know how, you’ll need to askhim.”
Lory was about to push, to ask for any hint she could give, but Anees already headed for the door. “Come on, Lory. Time to get you out of this room and back into action. Your friends have been asking about you all week.”
Byfriends, she could have only meant Tabi, Thal, and Jarek. Eira, perhaps, but probably not Brycon. Aiden knew where she was and what had happened to her, and Lory would thank him later that he hadn’t babbled about her miserable story to the rest of them.
“What did you tell them?”
Anees gave her a shrug, waiting for Lory to follow her into the hallway. “That you were indisposed and will be back to training soon.” As she continued past the gray stone and blackened doors, she amended, “Naturally, you have lots of enemies now.” The grin she shot Lory over her shoulder suggested that was something to be proud of.
“Because I’m Flame-born, not because I’m a criminal.” Why that sounded better to her, Lory didn’t fully understand. Perhaps it had something to do with her magic not being her choice, while stealing and robbing and preying on the wealthy had been all her, every step of the way.
“Flame surely outweighs common street rat,” Anees confirmed with the unbothered tone of someone who couldn’t care less what she was as long as she committed to getting healthy and presentable so she could start her training once more. “You probably shouldn’t wander the hallways on your own for the next three months, though. Even with a kick-ass power such as yours, you’re still mortal.”
Checking the open rooms left and right of their path for potential listeners, Lory caught up with Anees, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You mean, my Fire Fairy heritage won’t give me an edge when it comes to survival?”
The look Anees gave her made Lory wish she hadn’t asked. “You don’t think the Flames would have long taken over the rule of Brestolya had they had other traits of fairies? Like their strength or endurance or their speed.”
“How come we never hear about that part of history in Knowledge classes?”
Stopping at the next bend, Anees ushered Lory into a small, gray stone chamber lined with shelves of Medica supplies. “Because it’s ancient history. The watered-down magic is all we’ve left from fairies of any kind. Thousands of years will do that.” She gestured to a stool under a long, narrow window. “Sit.”
Lory hurried into the room, sitting down while Anees closed the door behind them, then rummaged through the shelves until she pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. “This will take care of what’s left of the wound. There’s already enough scarring to last you a lifetime.” She uncorked the bottle with her teeth, reaching for a folded, white piece of cloth. “Take off your shirt.”
A week ago, Lory would have asked the woman if she was in her right mind, but the way she’d taken care of her together with Aiden changed everything. Anees was on her side, and if she wasn’t, she was on Khayrivven’s. And Khayrivven wanted her to live. No matter how tough, the phantom wasn’t going to go against the captain’s orders—or her friend’s requests.
With a wince, Lory slipped her left arm out of her shirt, tugging it up so her branded shoulder was accessible, and Anees went to work, peeling off the bandages so hard, Lory bit back a scream.
“Sorry.” The woman didn’t pause, though, efficiently wiping the wound down with the clear liquid she poured on the clean cloth while she explained. “This is a magically infused elixir meant for healing. Princeton Nahrit, the Medica Hand, used it on you to heal your injuries from the first time you set yourself on fire.”
Her green eyes scanned the pale patches on Lory’s face. “It will seal what’s left of your wound, and only a thin scar will remain.”
Before Lory could ask the question, Anees already answered, “The branding will never go away, but it won’t be the only thing anyone sees whenever they look at your back, either. You’ll be able to wear a ballgown and get away with a thin layer of makeup over the scar tissue.”
“Why would I ever wear a ballgown?”
The grin Anees gave her was nearly as terrifying as the smirk Khayrivven sometimes put on when he knew he was right and wanted to rub it in her face.
“Just wait and see, Lory. You’re no longer part of the foot-soldier crowd. You’ll need a few more tricks up your imaginary sleeves when you prove your worth to the Triad and to Ulder’s cause.”
Twenty-One
