I attempt to agree with him, but my mouth won’t obey.
Instead, my eyes fall shut and I let the darkness take me.
Whisperings like the sound of wind rustling through trees extricate me from oblivion.
“—can’t be. There are no records of trace amounts of magic being transferred during the healing process.”
“It could have something to do with her family history.”
“That’s never mattered before. Are you certain you didn’t imagine it?”
“No, I’m not certain. I’ll be more convinced once she opens her eyes again.”
The first voice is glum. “Ifshe opens her eyes.”
I’m experiencing de-ja-vu, I think, recalling a similar hushed conversation when I woke up on the boat near Messina.
Teetering between awake and asleep, I slowly come back to myself. My limbs are heavy with exhaustion, eyes weighted shut. Lying on my back, I try to move my hands, but all I manage to do is make my fingers twitch.
“She will, Cec. Have faith.”
Cec.
“After what transpired at the castle, I’m fresh out of faith. And I’m not certain it’ll ever be in stock again.”
“If what you saw is true,” the first voice continues after a moment, “it’s going to change everything we know about our magic.”
“Perhaps your father has been keeping secrets from us.”
“First of all, of course he’s keeping secrets; he wouldn’t be my father if he weren’t. And second, suddenly he’smy father, not your own uncle?”
“Why couldn’t he just let her go?” Anger rises in the second man’s voice. “She would’ve kept the order a secret because of the blood oath, moved on with her life. She would’ve been safe and none of this would’ve happened.”
“No one privy to our existence is safe, Bes, blood oath or not. You’re well aware of that, and now, so is she.”
Bes.
The two of them fall silent.
Eventually, the numbness wears off from my arms, my chest, my head. I clear my burning throat and nearly choke on my own spit, digging my fingers into the material beneath me.Where am I?They must’ve placed me on a stiff, scratchy cot. But at least it’s not the floor.
The second voice—Bes—lets out a breath. “She’s awake.”
“Brilliant, she’s past the worst of it now,” the first voice—Cec—says.
A gentle hand grasps my good arm. I draw a deep breath into my lungs through my dry mouth, catching a burst of the sandalwood I’ve grown so used to.
I open my eyes.
Bes peers down at me with a scrunched brow. His deft fingers pull sweat-slick wisps of my golden hair away from my face, brushing against my skin. The low candlelight around himobscures his features, but his dark brown eyes shine through. Cec pops up on the other side, equally as worried.
Neither of them says a word.
“Do I have something on my face,” I croak, aiming for a joke.
When they don’t answer, worry sprouts inside me.
In response, Bes picks up something behind him.
