‘Resting,’ says Grandmother. ‘As you should be. He’s in the medical wing.’
‘Is he all right?’
The slight pause before Grandmother speaks seems to clamp down on the gravity in the room. ‘Your brother is doing as well as can be expected. The skin on the left side of his face was badly burned after your cousin …’ She stops, swallows. ‘They managed to save it. Except … except …’ Grandmother looks away, pressing her lips tightly together.
My heart shrinks to the size of a fingernail. ‘Except?’
Grandmother cups my cheek and I’m torn between wanting to rip the answer from her mouth or clapping my hands over my ears so that I never have to hear it.
‘His left eye,’ she says quietly. ‘It was open when …’ She takes a long breath. ‘I’m afraid he can’t see out of it any more, my darling one.’
The room shifts and spins. I think I might vomit.
‘You mean … you mean he’s …blind?’ The last word is no more than a whisper.
‘Only in his left eye,’ Grandmother says quickly.
‘And there’s nothing they can do?’ I choke out.
Grandmother shakes her head. I bite back the sob building in my throat and swing my legs out of bed. This slight movement leaves me dizzy.
‘What are you doing?’
I try to stand. ‘Flint. I have to see him. I have to –’
But Grandmother pushes me gently back down. ‘He’s sleeping, Blaze, and you’re not steady enough to go anywhere tonight. His chaperone is with him – he’s not left his side. You may see your brother tomorrow once you’re fit and rested, do you hear me?’
I glare at her. Then fall back against the cushions, numb.
Fury finds me first.
‘Ember,’ I breathe.
The glass of water next to the bed freezes then shatters.
Grandmother throws out an arm to shield my face. ‘Blaze.Blaze. You must stay calm –’
But I’m wrenching myself free from the silk sheets, ice burning cold at my core as I stagger to my feet.
‘River,’ I hear Grandmother say.
Everything tilts sideways, but a pair of arms scoops me up before I hit the ground.
When I next open my eyes, I see moonlight filtering in through the curtains. My motions are groggy and slow, as though my muscles have been replaced with treacle. I’m desperately thirsty, but I remember that I smashed my glass of water.
Then I remember why.
I struggle into a sitting position just as a candle flickers to life beside the bed.
‘Itoldyou to rest,’ Grandmother says with a sigh. ‘Future queen or not, I would ask you to remember that I am rarely wrong, especially when it comes to you.’
She hands me another cup of water and I drain it in two gulps. That’s when her words begin to permeate the remaining fog inside my head.
Future queen.
‘I won,’ I whisper.
Grandmother nods. ‘You did.’
