He cocked a half-grin, trying not to aggravate the bruised side of his face. “Oh, c’mon, Del,” he said. “What ifit’shurt, too? What will happen to this world if I lose my co?—”
She raised her hand. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Her glare sharpened as she crossed her arms. “Get in the bath. Pants on.Now.”
Despite the blazing pain across his face, Quentin’s smile widened, but he obeyed. Standing gingerly, he lurched to the bath, stepping one leg then the other over and settling slowly into the warm water.
At first, it was divine. He’d suffered no injuries to his legs beyond a few minor scratches. The fights had drained him, and the warmth was soothing on the tight soreness already settling into his muscles.
When the water reached the middle of his back, the agony started.
The deep scratches from Oralla’s claws had scoured tracks in his skin, the source of most of his blood loss. He clenched his teeth, gripping the sides of the tub as he hissed in pain.
“Tell me what happened.”
Quentin met Delaynie’s gaze. She sat on the chair he’d just occupied, one pale leg crossed over the other.
“Right now?”
“Yes. Right now.” She drummed her fingers on her knee, further drawing Quentin’s attention to those legs. “It’ll distract you from the pain.”
The bathwater was already beginning to stain red as the water climbed higher, lifting the blood from his skin.
Quentin dragged in a shaky inhale. “Fine.” He shifted, his legs uncomfortably bent. He wasn’t tall, but the bath had still clearly not been designed for anyone other than a petite woman.
“I was…bored. So, I decided to go into town. Just to see what the locals were like, how things were for the ordinary residents of Kreah.”
Delaynie lifted a perfectly arched brow. “You werebored.”
Quentin shrugged, grinning weakly.
“I spent most of the day in the city,” he continued. His back was on fire now, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. “Most people were nice. I eventually made it down into places that were…less so.”
“Why am I not the least bit surprised?”
Quentin shot Delaynie a glance. “Careful, little wolf. You almost sound worried.”
“About you?” She scoffed. “Never. But I know the last thing my queen needs right now is to lose one of her Armature. The fact that you’d do something so reckless…” Her nails dug into the skin of her thighs, like she was trying to stop herself from trembling.
In anger? No, she didn’t look enraged. It almost looked like…
Quentin’s grin widened, despite the pain to his face.
Oh, she wasdefinitelyworried for him. This would be fun.
“Still.” She straightened her spine. “That doesn’t explain all of”—she gestured at him— “this.”
Quentin sobered slightly. “I overheard people talking. About the Onitan refugees and how unhappy they were with it all.” He hesitated. “They were talking about a coup. Against Amasis.”
The door to Delaynie’s room clicked open as her eyes widened in shock, her expression shifting to muted horror.
“I found what I could. Thankfully, things are quite stocked due to Feran’s recovery.” Rylla strode into the bathroom, carrying a basket bursting with all sorts of medical supplies. Herbs and tinctures clinked as she set the basket down on the tile, yards of white cotton bandages piled on top. Standing up, Rylla glanced between Delaynie and Quentin. “Everything all right here?”
“Yes,” they said together. Rylla cocked an eyebrow.
“Right,” she said slowly, a grin spreading across her face. She tossed her long ponytail over her shoulder, hazel eyes twinkling. “I will be going then. I must find my sister and speak to our parents about the events this evening.” She paused, focusing on Quentin.
“You fought well, Armature. Very few have ever faced the champions of desert and sky and lived to tell the tale. Especially with all their limbs intact.”
Quentin grinned. “Do you think Mariah will be proud?”
