My stomach is tight, but I shower fast and dress, choosing a dark underdress and a green outer robe, cinching it hard at the waist. My hair is still damp, but I let it be.
The door releases at my touch. So last night’s lock was for the night, or for show. The guards are the real lock. I expect to find Drenz outside my door, but there are two other warriors instead. They ignore me, staring straight ahead. I’m used to being invisible, but this is more than just the usual thing where they won’t look at me. They’re silent and stiff when I walk by. Reminding myself not to take it personally, that Rythar has ordered them to do this, doesn’t make it feel better.
I want to find Rythar, but I also want to be alone. I need a minute to find where I fit now.
At the intersection, Ex O Drenz is waiting for me. His posture is rigid, arms folded behind him, eyes ahead, but he’s positioned so that I cannot pass without acknowledgement.
He bows his head slightly as I approach. “You are early,” he says. “Warlord Rythar said you required an escort.” He says it casually, as though he has not been ordered to haunt my steps like a shadow.
At least Drenz is still talking to me. “Rythar didn’t blame you for what happened. Did he?” I wince asking the question, but I have to know. I never wanted to get anyone else in trouble.
Drenz’s eyes flash narrow. "No. I informed him that I was outmaneuvered by a female one-third my size carrying a medical kit.” He pauses. “Warlord Rythar said that was consistent with his experience.”
I stifle a smile. “What happened to the warrior I treated last night?”
“Alive,” Drenz says, voice clipped. “He ate. He is healthy.”
I hear the caution in his words, the need to confirm and cross-confirm.
“He’s fine?” I press.
“Yes.” Drenz’s face is expressionless, but his eyes dart to my hand.
“What will happen now?”
He pauses for a moment, considering my question. “You used New Terran medicine. No Xythean healing technology. The same that you used on Rythar.” He's nearly certain about this. But he's fishing, not confirming. Rythar hasn't told him everything.
“I think that’s something you’d have to ask Rythar,” I say carefully.
Drenz considers again. “We were unable to suppress the knowledge of the cure. You may be asked to demonstrate the method. For the High Lord.”
I stop walking. Rythar won’t like that. “Is that going to be a request or an order?”
Drenz blinks slowly. “Warlord Rythar would refuse any order that threatened his mate. But the request has already been sent to him.”
The High Lord wants my antivenom. The High Lord whose own bride is sick. There’s no telling what else he might want.I don’t want to see the High Lord again. Especially not in person. But if I could help Maya…
I start to respond, but Drenz cuts me off. "You know a cure was thought to be impossible. New Terra's technology is simple. You should not have been able to heal the warrior. Our physiology is not as strong as Rythar’s. And yet, he was healed in minutes. I find this set of circumstances very interesting."
I shrug. “I had a head start. We had a form of this venom on New Terra. It was used in the war.”
His brow creases. “Do you not find this suspicious?”
I frown, knowing there must be a connection. “Yes,” I admit. “I need to research it more. Test it.”
Drenz’s hand hovers an inch away from my upper arm. “Elena. Rythar changed my orders. I must physically interfere if you are taking actions that may harm yourself in any way. Including administering the antivenom to a dying warrior,” he says pointedly.
“Are you going to follow me everywhere now?” I ask him.
“Rythar has given orders that you are to be visibly guarded at all times. And right now, you are following me. To Rythar."
Drenz leads me to the command room. Rythar is there. He is surrounded by maps and data flows. The other warriors stand at attention as I enter, not looking at me, but I sense their awareness prick my skin like static. Rythar wears armor, but his helmet is off. His hair is damp at his temples, as if he hasrecently removed the helmet. He orders Drenz to return to his regular duty.
When his eyes flick to me, his expression opens. He closes the gap between us in two steps and takes my hand, pressing it to his chest.
“Are you well?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Drenz told me the warrior survived.”
