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Thicket studied him, but for once, she had no idea what he was thinking. Elian slipped out the door without looking back.

“Be safe,” Thicket called after Lotta. “And… keep him safe, too.”

Lotta glanced back, her expression gentle. “He is going to be okay, you know. No matter what happens. And so will you.”

Thicket swallowed as the words settled over her, soothing some of the twisted nerves loitering in her gut. The door clicked shut and she was alone.

Marcellus groaned. Stomach lurching, Thicket scrambled over to him. “Marcellus! By the chalices… You’re okay.”

The relief came so fast white spots danced across her eyes, rendering her momentarily dizzy.

“No,” he said, grunting as he struggled to sit up. “I think I might have just entered hell.” His eyes fell on her. “I thought I told you to leave me.”

“And I thought I remembered saying no.” Her relief ebbed into red hot anger. She grabbed what remained of his shirt and shook him. “What were you thinking?”

He winced. “No thank you for taking an arrow for you?”

She glowered. “I didn’t ask you to do that. You could’ve died.”

“If I didn’t, you could have died.” He let out a sharp breath. “How many times do I have to tell you? I am your guard. It is my duty to lay down my life for yours.”

Thicket’s heart clenched. “Maybe, but I refuse to treat your life like it's disposable.”

His mouth opened then closed, as though fighting words he knew better than to say. In the end, his jaw clenched and he looked away. She stared at him a moment longer, wishing he would just say what was on his mind and stop letting trivial things like titles and duties get in the way.

Sensing he wouldn’t reveal what he was thinking, Thicket sighed and let go of his shirt. Then, her eyes narrowed. “Wait… How long have you been awake?”

The timing of him waking up and Elian and Lotta leaving was far too coincidental.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, swinging his legs off the bed. He glanced around the room. “Where is everyone else?”

She frowned, still not fully convinced he just happened to wake up the moment Elian and Lotta left, but she knew arguing wouldn’t get her any answers. “Let me finish healing you first. Then, I will explain everything.”

Marcellus rolled his back, twisting and jumping, as though testing every possible angle to see how effective her healing had been. Blood still smeared the back of his skin, but the wound wasn’t visible anymore. Not so much as a scar was left.

“Should you even be moving like that?” she asked. “You just got shot by an arrow.”

“Thanks to who?” he asked, looking at her from around his shoulder.

She crossed her arms. “And who is responsible for stupidly making you feel good enough to speak again?”

“If I recall, Lotta was the one who did the actual removing of the arrow.”

Thicket rolled her eyes. “I should have ignored Elian and gone with them.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Thicket opened her mouth but found she had no explanation. She grabbed her scarf instead, doing her best to hide the patches of blood staining her clothes and said, “Let’s go find them.”

They emerged from the inn. Heat draped over her, weighing her exhausted body down and making her head spin. She stumbled and Marcellus steadied her.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just… got a little dizzy.”

He frowned, putting his hand to her forehead as he examined her face. “Maybe we should go back inside. You look a bit pale.”

Thicket pushed him away, stepping further out onto the street. “I’m fine. Where do you think they would have gone?” She swept her gaze across the city. The sun was perched low in the sky, almost touching the domed roof of the palace. It wouldn’t be long until it was dark, which would make it almost impossible to find them.