She approached haltingly, fearing he was hurt. Then she heard his voice.
“Stay awake, stay awake,” he said. “I’ll get help.”
“No.” A whisper. “I don’t want—”
“Don’t you dare die now.”
In the chaos and darkness, no one had noticed him, no one was searching for him but Liana. He was on his knees, doubled over.
“Amron?” she whispered.
He cradled someone in his arms. A head, with a mass of black hair, shoulders, female torso, one arm hanging, touching what Liana thought was a black pool of shadow but now realized was blood.
With much effort, Liana’s eyes picked out the features of theface, half pressed to Amron’s chest. It was Melia.
All the hostility and years of subdued jealousy drained out of Liana.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Amron, I’m so sorry.”
“Liana, is that you?” He lifted his head. Tears had carved white lines in his soot-smudged face. “She’s wounded, she needs help.”
“Shall I run to the infirmary and get someone?”
“No, not in the palace, it’s too risky.” He shook his head. “I know who might help her. She has a surgeon.”
Before Liana could ask who he meant, he got up, holding Melia in his arms.
“Clear the way,” he told Liana, but there was little need. The back exit they used was deserted, the people in the alley already shuffling home, minding their own business. Amron marched on until they reached the locked door of a villa, the same one Liana had knocked on two days before.
“But…this is a brothel,” Liana said.
“Yes, and they have a surgeon at hand, and know how to keep a secret. Knock, please.”
They waited a long time before they heard footsteps and a narrow strip of light poured out of the slit. “We’re closed,” a voice said.
“Tell Celandina it’s Prince Amron,” he said. “If she helps me, I’ll owe her a favor.”
“I’ll be right back.”
They didn’t wait long this time. More footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a familiar face.
“Your Highness. Andyou.” A shadow of displeasure darkened Celandina’s pretty face when she recognized Liana. “And…who do you have here?”
“Someone important to me, wounded in a fight. I need you to help her,” Amron said.
If Celandina recognized Melia, she did nothing to show it, nordid she ask superfluous questions. She led them in, ordering the girl following her to call the surgeon. They entered a small room, spare but pristine. Amron laid Melia on the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.
“Oh, this is bad,” Celandina murmured, “stomach wounds don’t heal well.”
“I know,” Amron said. “But we must try. She saved my life tonight.”
A lick of cold air touched the nape of Liana’s neck.Saved his life?
A surgeon ran in, holding his bag, followed by the girl, carrying water and bandages. Celandina lit every candle in the room. In a heartbeat, they were all busy around Melia, cutting away fabric, cleaning the wound, stopping the bleeding.
“Steady now,” Amron said, holding Melia’s hand, although she showed no sign of hearing him.
Liana was left standing in the shadows, a useless bystander.Meliahad saved Amron’s life, not Liana. “Amron.” The words rolled like gravel in her mouth. “Is there anything I can do?”
