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The Avonleyan Queen tilted her head, her bow and quiver slung across her back. “You said to do whatever it took. I simply sped up the process.”
“With godsdamn deathstone? Sorin and Tybalt could have been seriously hurt, or worse,” Scarlett cried.
“Were the desired results not achieved?” Kailia asked with a shrug.
At Sorin’s growl, Cethin was stepping in front of Kailia. “How about we all head back and take some time? I can send Niara to look at your ankle, Scarlett.”
When no one answered, Scarlett Traveled with Sorin, leaving Cassius to worry about Cyrus. Scarlett wasn’t even sure her feet had landed on the ornate rug before Sorin was scooping her up and setting her on the bed. Then he dropped down before her to gently remove her boots. She hissed as he pulled off the one on her sore ankle, and his mouth tightened.
A knock on their chamber door had them both looking up in confusion. Sorin pushed back to his feet and strode to the door, stepping aside when he found Rayner.
“What is it?” Sorin asked tightly, already back at her side and removing her weapons for her. She let him. Let him take care of her in whatever way he wanted, knowing it was pure instinct to do so right now.
“I wanted to…” Rayner let out a sharp breath, carving his hand through his hair. Scarlett had never seen him so…unsure. “Don’t be too upset with Kailia,” he finally said.
Scarlett’s brows shot up, and Sorin went preternaturally still.
“Repeat that?” Sorin said in a voice that made Scarlett far too nervous. “Because she used deathstone against yourqueen, Rayner.”
“I know what she did, Sorin,” Rayner said. “She was acting on our queen’s behalf.”
“I did not tell her to use deathstone,” Scarlett admonished.
“No, but you did say we needed to do whatever it took to get his magic to surface, and that’s how things were done beneath the cliffs,” Rayner countered sharply.
Sorin and Scarlett glanced at each other. Rayner rarely spoke of his time on the Southern Islands.
“When they were trying to force gifts to emerge, they used whatever means necessary. And those of us trained for killing purposes? Our training was grueling. Deathstone was likely used against her, and she was likely forced to use it against others. She knew it would accomplish what you wanted,” he continued.
“Did you know her?” Scarlett asked. “Before we came here I mean?”
“No,” he answered, striding for the door. “But I know what she faced beneath those cliffs, and I know how she was trained there. This would have seemed mild compared to that.”
As Rayner was walking out the door, Niara was coming in, a small satchel in her hand. “Cethin asked me to stop by,” she said, attention already fixing on Scarlett’s ankle, as though she could sense the discomfort. “May I?”
“Of course,” Scarlett said, scooting back on the bed. Sorin was hovering like the mother hen he was as Niara gently laid a hand on her ankle, faint light flaring. “Thank you again for everything you did for Eliza,” Scarlett said around a wince as the Healer rotated her ankle.
“I am glad I could be of service,” Niara said. “This is a deep sprain. Your own magic will heal it in a day or so, but I assume that is undesirable?”
Scarlett nodded. “We leave in two days’ time.”
Niara stood, reaching into her satchel and producing a tonic. “Take this. It will speed the healing, but will also make you sleep.”
She tensed. “For how long?”
“Likely into the evening.”
That wouldn’t be so bad. The mention of taking a tonic to make her sleep had memories surging of a tonic that had made her sleep for days while forcing her magic to slumber. It had not even been a year ago, but felt like another lifetime.
“Thank you,” Sorin was saying as he escorted Niara out. She had already downed the tonic and was settling in among the pillows when he returned to her side.
“You are not even going to change?” he asked, a brow arching.
She was asleep before she could answer.
* * *
When she did wake hours later, it was indeed well into the evening. There were candles burning throughout their room, and she had shifted onto her side at some point. Sorin was propped against the headboard beside her, one knee bent and a book balanced on it. She studied him as he studied the text, referring every once in a while to what she assumed were notes set off to the side. She could see the book was in Avonleyan, and while he was steadily becoming more proficient, he still struggled to translate some of it.
