The memory of Cadet Bronn’s fist flying toward my face brings a fresh wave of phantom pain to my cheek, but I breathe in deeply as the healer applies more solution to the cloth. I want to cry. I hate this dim lighting with all my heart. My head pounds from the sheer concentration just to figure out what this kind healer is saying to me.
I reel in my focus again just as she asks, “Where are you from? If you don’t mind answering.”
“Cluain Baile.”
Like she warned, the cut on my cheek stings when the damp cloth touches it, but nothing like the branding. Her brows knit together as she picks up a jar and opens it. “What was your trade in Cluain Baile?”
“Botany.”
Is that astonishment that crosses her face? She dips a thick finger into the jar, and then lifts my branded arm with her other hand. I tense up, preparing for more pain, but the clear salve only leaves behind a cool, soothing sensation that travels through my arm. I sigh with relief and the healer smiles.
“There,” she says. “You’ll be as good as new in no time.” She smiles, but I can’t smile back.
Good as new in no time, for what purpose? “What’s going to happen to me?”
Her smile falters. Well, that’s promising…
“Someone will speak to you soon,” she says. “… don’t know much.”
Helpful. “Thank you for…”Patching me up, being kind…The words remain trapped in my mind as I focus only on breathing through the fear.
“No thanks needed.” She gets to her feet and turns toward the bars, her full-bodied figure blurring from the tears gathering in my eyes. A guard steps up to open the gate to my cell and the healer gracefully exits. She’s the first kind face I’ve seen here and I’m sure she’ll be the last.
CHAPTER 10
Carys
“AreGrounders really being apprehended for petty theft?” I ask as I barge into Iywan’s study. He jumps so hard that he knocks over his inkwell. He yanks the parchment he was writing on away from the traveling ink and sets the jar upright again. I grimace—that was unfortunate.
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Princess,” he says as he takes a handkerchief from his robes to mop up the ink spillage.
I hold up the dress I’ve toted to his study. “A guard informed me that they took this dress from Cluain Baile and apprehended its maker. This isn’t treason, so there shouldn’t have been any grounds for an arrest.”
Iywan appears genuinely befuddled. “I was not aware.” He stands and walks over to a basin of water to wash the ink off his hand.
“Do you have the newest arrest and conscription records?”
“Yes.” He wipes his long fingers dry before consulting a hefty pile of documents on his massive desk. In silence, he thumbs through the pages. “May I ask why you’re interested in this particular case?” He doesn’t turn away from the paperwork.
“If she, indeed, made this dress, I’d like her in my service.”
Iywan pauses for half a heartbeat. “Wouldn’t you prefer a seasoned dressmaker from Barr na Cahar?”
“No. I’m tired of the shi—rubbishdresses from those dressmakers.”
He pulls out a sheet of paper and his eyes dart across the lines of text. “Her name is Durvla Garrick. A botanist from Cluain Baile. Her sentence is currently under review.”
My eyes widen, and Iywan sets the page down slowly. “What is there to review? This dress could not have come from Barr na Cahar. Stylistically, it doesn’t fit the standards of recent fashion trends. Therefore, if this botanist girl stole it, it had to be from her own people. That is withintheirjurisdiction, not Mainland’s.”
“The Grounders are incapable of executing justice—therefore crimes committed by a Grounder fall within the jurisdiction of Mainland if deemed punishable by the Forayers.”
He sounds like he’s just quoted that from a law book, and it’s utter shit. “So now we’re giving glorified mercenaries permission to act as judges? That’s madness. The raids are supposed to be for the purpose of keeping Erleya safe from the threat of Otherworldly activity. As if there has been any proof of such a thing in centuries. If there’s something in need of areview, it’s these archaic laws.”
Iywan’s eyes close for a moment, his narrow chest expanding with a deep breath. “Duly noted, Princess. However, the Forayers are not acting as judges. They’re arresting individuals based on a crime and bringing the prisoners to Paramount to receive their sentence. It is likely that Durvla Garrick’s sentence will be a lifelong service to the Veilguards rather than a death sentence.”
I gesture to the heavy knitted dress in my arms. “The Veilguards? For allegedly stealing adress?” My voice echoes in the chamber. I can almost hear Alys in my head, telling me not to fight fire with fire. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Lord Iywan, I’d like you to look at this dress.” I hold it up. “There are knitting needles still in it. Even if this woman stole it, what could she do with it?Stareat it?”
Iywan’s eyes move from the dress to my face. He’s unimpressed, making me glance at the garment in my hand. Just a moment ago, it appeared to be the greatest dress I’d ever seen. Now it’s obvious that it is flawed, the material isn’t the highest quality—the wool is scratchy—the embroidery is nonuniform… but what more can be expected from something created in the Grounds?
