Justus prods the skin around the Faerie King’s eye socket. “Can you see out of your left eye?”
Dante’s jaw ticks as he keeps glowering my way. “No.”
I do not cower under his scrutiny. I hold his stare, conveying in silence how lucky he is that vision is all he lost.
A moment later, the soldier bursts back into the room with a carefully wrapped packet that he places on the glass table.
Justus unwraps it, then pinches out some mint-green dust and feeds it to Dante. “I’ll also put some on your eye. It may sting but it’ll counter the effect of the iron instantly.”
If it does burn, Dante doesn’t show it.
Once Justus has wrapped the king’s head in gauze, he turns back toward me, or rather toward the fallen body at my feet. “Brambilla, take Fallon back to her cage and lock her inside. I will deal with her once I dispose of the corpse.”
Dealwith me?For what? Trying to defend him, to shield him from Dante? Fucking ingrate.
“Apologies, Maezza. I know you were looking forward to spending time with Fallon this evening, but I believe it’s safer she’s put away until she stops acting like a feral creature.”
Yes. I can vouch that it’s a whole lot safer. Not that Dante looks interested in spending time with me. I’m rather certain getting stabbed in the eye will put him off being intimate with me for the duration of my imprisonment.
“I’ll go toss the corpse in my mother’s grove so it doesn’t stink up our stronghold. I’ll be back soon.” Justus kneels beside the glassy-eyed healer, grabs him under the arms, and hauls him over his shoulder. And then he stands. “Walk ahead of me, Brambilla.”
Cato turns, forcing me along down the darkened hallway that seems to echo with the gush of my pulse. The walk back to the vault room is quiet. Only our footfalls disturb the sense of doom that hangs around us.
I glance back over my shoulder, my gaze colliding with Justus’s dusky blue stare. He seems thoughtful more than angry. Then again, it’s so dark, and the body he carries, so broad, that I may be misinterpreting his strain for pensiveness.
Justus is still walking behind us when we reach the vault room. Does he not trust Cato to escort me to my cell? Just as we reach the tunnel entrance, Justus stops.
“Sergeant?” Justus eases his necklace from his collar and uncorks the vial before dripping some blood onto his fingertip.
Cato halts.
“Approach.”
Cato peers into the vault room past Justus as though to check on the whereabouts of his fellow soldiers. When he sees none, he tugs me back the few steps we’ve taken down the tunnel until we stand so close that I can smell the tinny odor that wafts off the cadaver of brave Dottore Vanche. If only Meriam’s ploy had worked out better.
He can no longer hear me, yet I mouth a silent,Thank you for your courage. Or was it madness? I’m reminded of the brave and kind Selvatin, Sewell, who perished trying to help me free the crow imprisoned in Xema Rossi’s grove.
“No one touches her until I return, you hear me? No one.” As he brings his bleeding fingertip to the wall, Justus drops his voice further. “Not even our king.”
I’d have tried to gauge his expression were I not so fascinated by the shape he’s drawing on the black stone—a circle fitted with a cross, the bottommost side of which lopes over the curved edge in a downward slash.
As he tows his finger off the wall, I spring my gaze to his. A mix of anger and anguish pool shadows into the sharp nooks and crannies of his face.
“Better yet, lock the cellar door.” His mouth barely shifts around the command.
“Lock it? But—” A tremor goes through Cato. “But I don’t have a key.”
“Which is why you lock it, Brambilla.” Justus gives his head a little shake. “I’ll open it upon my return. Got it?”
“Yes, Generali.”
“Good. Now go.”
Cato tugs me away with a quiet, “Come.”
As we beat a hasty retreat toward my cell, I peer over my shoulder and meet Justus’s shiny stare a second before he stamps the wall with his hand and slips through.
My lungs begin to contract anew, pulsing out breath after breath that are slowly but surely bringing me back to life.
