I’m so lost in thought I don’t notice at first that someone’s watching me. The instant I feel the cold lurch, the weight of unseen eyes boring into my back, I whirl round, heart pumping.
It must be the last envoys.
But no. Empty hillsides. The gentle gurgle of the river. Nothing. No one. Only the sense of something lurking beyond the perimeter, just out of sight.
Fretful imaginings of an anxious mind.
My vision mottles. Flames seem to dance before my eyes. Once more, the smoke-stench thickens on the breeze, choking me. I turn to catch up to the others, but my slippers skate on the frost. Blinded by brandmagic, I tumble forwards. A faint tinkling laugh, high and cruel – perhaps Maris’ – drifts on the bitter breeze as my palms slam on the rocky ground. Sharp pain pitches through me. Metal taints the air. Blood is dripping down my wrist, silver seeping over my brand. Fingers trembling, I gather the pendant sleeve and press down hard to staunch the bleeding. Blink the last of the phantom flames away.
‘Are you all right?’ It’s the younger Xylian woman. Tansy. She extends a hand to me.
Astrophel pushes past. ‘I’ve got her.’ He grasps my elbow. Pulls me roughly to my feet.
‘Leilani, wasn’t it?’ Tansy says, ignoring him.
I nod, grimacing at the throbbing pain.
‘Crown Princess, to you.’ Astrophel sneers, steering me towards the carriage.
Tansy ignores Astrophel for a second time. ‘I can take a look at that, dress it for you. Best do it quickly to prevent infection.’
I want to reject her offer, maintain our even footing, but the blood’s soaking through my sleeve. My head’s starting to swim.
‘Don’t let her touch you,’ Astrophel whispers in my ear. ‘We’ll have it seen to at the palace.’
‘And have me bleed out in the carriage?’ I hiss back.
Astrophel glances away, as expected. Just as he did when we were children and he found me by the fountain. I’m used to people’s subtle recoil from my Starborn blood.
Tansy tucks a tendril of dark hair behind a furled ear-tip. ‘Sit down. Let me take a proper look.’
I try not to flinch as Tansy supports my wrist. Her mouth twitches as she appraises the brand, the silver blood, but it’s not the twist of revulsion I just received from my betrothed, who’s watching us with stony eyes, arms braced across his chest. Tansy seems more curious than anything else.
‘It might need stitches, here in the centre where it’s deepest. I’ll clean it for now and bind it – see to the stitching when we arrive at the palace.’ Tansy fishes in her lidded wicker basket, lifting out bandages and a vial of what smells like alcohol.
‘Thank you,’ I splutter, pungent ether catching in my throat. ‘I’m in your debt.’
‘Nonsense.’ She douses a bandage in the ether and dabs at my wound. ‘I’m a healer, sworn to protect those in need. And happy to help.’ Her smile is warm, creasing the lichen that crusts her temples. ‘I would gladly examine the Queen too. My methods might offer her some relief.’
I stutter a non-committal reply as she slicks a thick salve across my injury. My entire body revolts at the suggestion of being beholden to our enemies, though it’s hard to think of Tansy in those terms while she’s bandaging my bloody wrist with such tender care. My father would forbid it anyway. Xylian healing – their herbal lore – is much maligned at Court, though this glimpse into their methods is enough to show me it’s no crude quackery.
‘All done,’ Tansy says, tying off the bandage.
Astrophel helps me to my feet, his hands gentler this time.
The three of us trudge back to the carriage in awkward silence. I should initiate conversation, try to build goodwill – Stars know, I’m going to need it. But my mind’s reeling. The Outrealmers aren’t what I expected. Not the monsters of my imagination – just living, breathing people. Strange certainly, and I know better than to trust them, but people, nonetheless.
I should be pleased. Relieved. This morning, I wasn’t sure any of the Outrealmers would answer the call of the Flarestone, let alone accompany me back to the palace, or tend my wounds. But nagging dread drags my chest instead.
Visions of flames dance before my eyes once more.
A reminder the Oralians haven’t answered my call. And without them, we’re doomed.
LAST DESPERATE PRAYER
LEILANI
DUSKAPPROACHES, and there’s still no sign of them.
