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“What?” Callan turned to Sorin, who seemed to be trembling himself. With restraint, Callan realized. “No. She is here because of you! Why did you not protect her?” he snapped
“Let him take your place, Prince. Her magic is raging, and she will not be able to control it much longer. Her magic will run wild, not caring what it costs her,” Eliza said, her tone a warning.
“No.”
“Either move your ass willingly, or I will do so for you,” Cyrus growled from near the balcony doors.
“What can he do? He said himself we are waiting on a Healer.”
“This is not a pissing contest, Prince. Move your ass,” Cyrus snapped, beginning to prowl towards him.
“Callan,” Finn hissed.
With a glare at all of them, he reluctantly moved from the bed. Sorin was beside her faster than Callan could blink. He watched as he took her uninjured arm, placing her hand flat against his chest. “Breathe,” he soothed, stroking her hair with his other hand. “Focus. Make us match. Like we have done every other time.”
Every other time.They had done this before. Sorin had helped her through whatever this was before.
“Where is the Healer?” Scarlett gasped out between breaths.
“She is coming. You can do this. You’ve been through worse. I’ve put you through worse. Do you remember that time I made you run so long you vomited and then I made you run some more just because I could?”
“Do you remember the time I punched you in the face?” she muttered.
“There you are, Love,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Callan’s heart constricted as she leaned into him, her foreheadgoing to his chest, just above her hand. “Breathe, Love.” Sorin’s voice was so tender, so gentle. He loved her. Sorin loved her as much as he did. Callan suddenly felt likehewas going to be sick.
Her trembling lessened while she sat, focusing on her breathing, Sorin’s hand soothingly rubbing her back. No one said a word as they watched the Prince steady the Wraith, her shadows brushing down his cheek, his arms. “None of today was your fault. Do you understand me?” Sorin said gently but firmly when her breathing had evened out, tilting her face up to look into her eyes. Callan could see the doubt flickering in them. “Scarlett, they are safe. They are unharmed. It was not your fault.”
There were running footsteps, and an older woman rushed into the room, Rayner a step behind her. She was the same Healer who had been there that first day here. She crossed the room to Sorin, took one look at Scarlett’s arm, and pressed a hand to her cheek. White light flared from her hand, and Scarlett was instantly asleep. Sorin gently laid her back on the pillows and stood back to let the Healer work. They were murmuring quietly to each other as she focused on Scarlett’s broken arm. Then she shifted her attention to somehow magically binding her ribs that had Callan gaping slightly.
While their focus remained on Scarlett, Callan took the moment to look around the room. The suite was huge. A desk and bookshelves lined the walls. Two overstuffed chairs sat in the front of the fireplace, a male’s cloak draped over one. His eyes drifted to the balcony doors where Cyrus still stood, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. There was a chaise beneath the window, and weapons lay strewn across it. Weapons he recognized.Herweapons.
He looked around the rest of the room. Were these her chambers or his? He glanced to Eliza, who stood by the bedroom door, whispering with Rayner, but she met his eyes. Her lips formed a grim line. To her right was an open door to a dressing room, and he could glimpse female clothing hanging. Her room then.
“She will sleep for a couple hours and be pain free, but she will need to take it easy the next few days. She will be sore, and those rib breaks will take some time. She is weakened from draining hermagical reserves improperly,” the Healer said, her voice crackled with age.
“Thank you, Beatrix,” Sorin replied, bending to brush a kiss to the woman’s cheek.
“And you, Prince?” the aged Healer asked, a half smile on her lips. She raised her hand to his forehead where a gash was still healing, presumably from when Talwyn had thrown him against the wall. A flare of white light and it was gone. Not even a mark. “Anyone else?” The Healer surveyed the room. When no one replied, she took her leave.
Sorin’s gaze settled on him and his guards. The gleam in his eyes was half feral as he surveyed them. Cyrus and Rayner casually stepped between the two princes. “Another place, perhaps, Sorin?” Rayner said coolly.
“Take it to your sitting room,” Eliza drawled from the doorway. “I’ll stay with her.”
Sorin stalked past her, leaving Callan with little choice but to follow when Cyrus and Rayner looked at him expectantly. He entered the sitting room and immediately recognized it as the room they had come to when they’d first arrived in the Fire Court. This had to be Sorin’s private chambers. Not hers.
“How the fuck did she get past our wards?” Sorin seethed at Cyrus and Rayner, flames appearing in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Cyrus answered bitterly, violence and rage dancing across his features.
“I already have spies looking into it,” Rayner added in his quiet, lethal voice.
“Not a single one of us felt her? That is not fucking possible.” Sorin’s gaze was murderous as he leveled it at Callan. “Where were you when she took you?”
“We were not at the palace,” Sloan cut in with a snarl.
“What do you mean you were not at the palace?” Sorin asked with a deadly, calm rage.
“As I recall, we are not prisoners and are free to leave when we wish,” Callan retorted.
