But the voice was not Koury’s. It was a woman.
And it wasveryfamiliar.
“I am Kiira of House Touma. This endsnow. High Counsellor Amasis has dispatched a squadron to deal with this illegal rabble. I advise you to disperse now, or else deal with the consequences of your actions.”
Chaos erupted.
Above the pit, the crowd broke into shouts and alarms. The shouts then shifted into growls and brays and cries as blue light peppered the night.
There was a commotion behind Quentin at one of the doors leading to the tunnels. Both he and Oralla turned, instinct pulling them both back into fighting stances.
The door burst open, and a large black cat—a panther—with reflective hazel eyes leaped into the pit.
“Rylla.” Quentin nearly fell to his knees in relief.
Wait, not relief. He knew this weightless rush that came at him like a wave, the way his ears buzzed and vision grew too bright under the artificial lights.
Blood loss. How wonderful.
Rylla locked eyes with Oralla, the two cats snarling. Oralla was significantly larger than Rylla, but she was wounded and weakened.
“Oralla.” Kiira’s voice again sounded over the amplification. “Back down. This fight is no longer for you, old friend.”
Old friend?
Oralla shook her head, her stance relaxing with Kiira’s words. The snarl faded from Rylla’s face as the great white cat turned away, limping to the other exit. Just before she was through, blue light flashed. The slight white-haired female staggered into the tunnel, hands clutched to her side.
Rylla turned to Quentin. He met her gaze, which was level with his own.
That was odd. Her panther form was big, but he didn’t remember it beingthatbig.
Then he realized; he really had fallen to his knees. The world still swirled around him, fuzzy and dark in all the wrong places.
This really wasn’t good. But after what he’d learned tonight, he wasn’t sure he could trust a Kreah healer. Especially if it meant inviting said healer into Amasis’serekah, where his queen slept.
Where other people slept.
Blue light flashed, and Rylla knelt before him, human once more.
“You need to get up, Quentin.” She offered her arm. “I’m going to help you up, but I should warn you, it’s going to hurt.”
Quentin waved a hand. “Eh, I can handle a little pain.” He placed his hand on her offered arm, bracing himself as he tried to stand.
He wasverywrong.
He nearly blacked out when Rylla’s arm wrapped around his back, brushing against the sensitive and flayed flesh. Her shoulder slid beneath his and she pushed him to his feet, peeling him out of the sands. He leaned on her heavily and had never been more thankful he wasn’t some oversized war hero.
Rylla was strong, but she certainly couldn’t have hauled someone like Drystan out of the sands.
“We have to get you to a healer.” Rylla led him to the open tunnel. Lanterns hung in the hall beyond, lighting their way beneath the city.
Quentin shook his head. “No. Not a healer.”
“Quentin.” Rylla’s voice was a snarl. “You’ve lost too much blood. You need a healer.”
“The blood is already gone, Rylla. I just need someone to clean the wounds. My body will take care of the rest.” It had in the past, anyway.
Rylla made a frustrated noise. “Then where, pray tell, do you want to go?”
