And if they did… Why had Anees still been there? The Triad would have known who was on guard duty when the Flames disappeared.
“What’s wrong with me?” she ground out, barely feeling her leg.
Tabi’s warm hand grabbed her cold, shaking one. “Nothing Hand Nahrit can’t fix.” She said it with such conviction, Lory didn’t even bother considering the alternatives.
Nahrit shuffled closer to her knees to work on her leg. “You can’t tell anyone about the kind of magic I possess, Miss Vednis,” he warned. “It’s classified the same way as Thornling Ngala’s. The same way the Master of Whispers’ power over blood is classified.”
Lory wasn’t sure she’d heard right. “Blood?”
Even Tabi raised both eyebrows, pausing the dabbing on Lory’s wound while Nahrit held his hands over the cut that should never cause such problems.
“I’m saying this only because I know Lenya is busy elsewhere, and I explicitly trust both of you not to go advertising that sort of knowledge.” The warning was clear. “The same way as Thornling Ngala can make tissue grow and vanish, the same way I can drive out infections with my magic and clean the blood of illness, the Master of Whispers has a unique kind of matter manipulation as one of his gifts.” He paused, pressing a hand into Lory’s wound, and she bit back a scream as Tabi added her hand on top of it. “He can manipulate the flow of the blood in your veins. He can make it slow or speed it up or keep it from clotting.”
Her thigh grew warmer as their magic worked on her wound, until a singeing sensation ran through her, a jolt of power that wasn’t entirely of this world. Her body seized, head hitting the surface of the desk as her limbs contorted. Then Nahrit straightened, the concentration on his features replaced by exhaustion. He sank into his chair, wiping his forehead, and Tabi leaned against the edge of the desk, black braids shifting over her shoulder like a string curtain.
When Lory’s body finally relaxed, the wounds had stopped bleeding.
Thirty-Three
Lory
Lory didn’t knowhow she’d gotten into her bed. All she remembered was the pain when Lenya’s magic had been broken and the blood stopped spilling. Tabi and Nahrit had saved her.
Stifling a groan, she rolled to the side, reaching for the bandage on her thigh, and found nothing. Next to her, a sleeping Tabi sat sprawled in one of the chairs by the desk, her heart-shaped face slack with exhaustion and deep slumber. A glance at the window told Lory dawn wasn’t far off, and the Tears of the Gods had broken, no more precious water spilling from the skies. Theriver Dun must be gushing by now, carrying the excess rain to the ocean, where it would marry with salt and become the home of ships sailing to unknown lands.
Her head no longer felt hazy, and the pain had withdrawn into the thin line where Niely’s blade had cut her. Had Lenya tried to kill her? Nefetari Brunn’s words certainly seemed to have implied that was the case.
You might have proven your loyalty to Ashthorn, but the Master of Whispers still sees you as a threat, Elory. Make sure this wound heals fast. It will be harder to make it look like an accident when he needs to slice your skin himself.
All those months ago, she’d wondered if there was someone among leadership she could trust. The Medica Hand had offered up his own trust by sharing with her about his past with Khayrivven’s father, but apart from that—Lory’s hand shook as she guided it to her head, trying to make sense of Nefetari Brunn’s involvement in all of this.
More than she could see clearly went on at Ashthorn Ward. The king and the rebels no longer seemed to be the only factions for Ashthorn’s students’ loyalties. Whatever Lenya was up to, it was something more. And apparently, Brunn and Nahrit didn’t agree with it, or they wouldn’t have said what they’d said.
Even Khayrivven had mentioned he only trusted Anees and Hadrian, that the rest of Ashthorn was an unknown.
Ashthorn is a lie.Narica Hayley’s last words. The margins in Aiden’s old book. The gaps in Brestolya’s history.
Something much, much bigger was at work here. Lory might not have a name for it just yet, but she’d find out. Asquietly as she could, she dragged her feet from the bed and set them onto the stone floor. In the corner at the foot end of her bed, Brady Niely’s knives and jewels lay in a pile. The clothes were gone, but a small, off-white item lay crumpled among the metal and gemstones that Lory hadn’t noticed before.
Gingerly, she slid toward the end of the bed, leaning down to retrieve it.
The piece of paper was still wet in places, the ink smeared and blotchy, but the words were legible anyway. Three simple words that Lory hadn’t expected to ever see written in that combination.
blood
fae
portal
A surge of adrenaline rushed through Lory as she read and reread the list. The first two words made sense, even when the full-blooded fae of Neredyn and the fairies of Askarea had long faded to legends. Butportal?
Anees must have pulled the paper from Niely’s pockets and left it there for Lory to find.
“Khayrivven?”Lory called in her mind, hoping he’d finally hear her, come to her…
“He left a few minutes before you woke up,” Anees said from the shadows of her bed, where Lory hadn’t spotted her curled up between the sheets. “He found the note when he picked up Niely’s things to burn in the crematorium.”
So Anees knew about that, too…
