“Why don’t I accompany you to your meeting in the Grand Council room, and you can tell me all about it?”
I tucked a braid behind my ear as my heart jumped.
“I was going to stop in the infirmary first to check on Father Marcus with Marian if you’d like to walk with me there,” I suggested. My heart banged in a hopeful desperation as I waited for his reply.
His lips tilted up as he nodded and offered me an arm.
My face hurtfrom smiling by the time we reached the infirmary after a leisurely stroll. Vander’s endless questions about Mount Telum were the perfect distraction from the torture of my own thoughts.
“And then they hiked through the sewage tunnels.” I laughed, shaking my head as I recalled Lyvia’s tale of her escape from the dungeons of Mount Telum so long ago. She, Vulcan, Nerissa,and their friend Oslo had walked miles in the filth. “Can you imagine the stench?”
Vander threw his head back as he laughed, and I stared at his neck as the strong column worked.
“Yes, she told me. I had no idea they lead to the sea.”
“Only some of them do,” I answered, hopping up the last few steps as we neared Father Marcus’s room. “The northernmost. There are others that empty out near the mouth of the Ripped River. It’s why it smells so bad there.”
I paused before the door and shook my head softly.
“What if they don’t come back?” I asked, slowly looking up at the tall soldier as I reminded myself of Lyvia’s unknown fate.
Vander’s gray eyes scanned mine, and his hand twitched, as if he might lift it. “They will, Evony. I’m sure of it,” he replied in earnest, finally lifting his hand to push the door open.
Marian looked up from where she sat with her legs crossed on a stool next to a cot draped with thick brown linens. Her attention flicked to Vander. Whisps of her graying hair fell from her loose braid, framing her face. She brought a finger to her lips in silent command, tilting her head at the form beneath the blanket whose shoulders rose and fell softly.
Asleep, then.
“How is he?” I whispered.
Lyvia’s old Death Scholar master existed down here as a wraith, his eyes as distant as his presence.
Marian spent most of her time in the infirmary since the Rising took Aedrialis, using her experience as a midwife to assist the Life Scholars with healing and spending as much time as she could with the old priest.
My stomach knotted as I scanned Father Marcus’s exposed arm. Slowly healing wounds peppered his parchment-like skin. The permanent markings of what High Priest Helmar had done to him in his captivity were on full display.
I wasn’t exactly sure what Marian’s relationship with Father Marcus was, but it was clear she knew him from a past life. And I’d learned quickly not to push her on questions she didn’t want to answer. Marian could slap your wrist without lifting a hand.
“The same,” Marian signed, her hand signals resigned.
“I brought you some round rolls,” I replied in a hushed tone, handing Marian the small bakery sack. “Ronan said they are served regularly in the Temple of the Sky. I thought they might bring him some comfort.”
Marian’s brows softened as she took them. She opened the small sack, and Father Marcus stirred, as if the buttery scent called him awake.
Marian helped him sit upright, tucking the cotton sheets tightly around his waist before sitting back on the stool. His eyes slowly drifted up from the blanket, and I waited for the haunted blank stare that always landed at the foot of his cot.
Marian stilled as Father Marcus’s eyes flitted around in jerky movements before finally landing on Vander. My lips parted at the recognition, at thelife, flickering in his gaze.
Vander offered Father Marcus a handsome, wide smile as he placed his hands on his hips. Marian turned back to Father Marcus and gripped his hand, but the old priest’s gaze remained fixed on the handsome soldier beside me. I couldn’t blame him.
Marian leaned in and squeezed his hand, and my heart caved at the sight.She wanted him to look at her.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured quietly, “He must recognize Vander. He probably would have known him through Lyvia.”
Marian tensed, and I pulled my hand away, straightening as I stepped beside Vander.
“It’s good to see you, Father Marcus,” Vander murmured, his arm brushing against mine as he gestured to Marian. “We’ve brought you some bread.”
Marian pulled a round roll from the sack, but the priest remained focused on Vander.
