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As Larch had told me this was the only breach in the castle defenses, I returned to the hospital hall. Still no Starling in sight. Now I began to worry, pacing up and down the rows. I caught sight of Athena’s distinctively spiked blue hair, a human man kneeling beside her so their heads were even.
Walter?
Oh shit.
I ran, the voluminous dress that Starling had worked so hard to provide me with thankfully light as air. Athena gave me a pinched look, Starling on the floor next to her, bleeding from hundreds of blackening bites. “She ordered me not to tell you,” Athena burst out before I could say anything.
I knelt down, too, brushing Starling’s shining blond hair—the color she’d wanted so badly—away from her face. Her skin felt chill and clammy, her breathing shallow.
“She stayed back, on the drawbridge, making sure everyone got in,” Athena said. “Said it was her responsibility and you’d expect it of her. I told her she was being stupid, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“You’re being stupid,” Starling muttered and half-opened glazed eyes. “Oh Gwynn, no! You’ll get blood on your dress.”
I shook my head at her, half exasperated, half terrified. “Get Lady Healer.”
“I tried. She said Starling’s not highest priority according to your orders and she can’t break her vow. There’s dozens worse off.”
Dammit. It would be wrong to make an exception for Starling, right? Bad leadership precedent. Maybe I didn’t care about that.
“I can help her,” Walter offered. Then ducked his head when I looked at him. “Hey, Gwynnie. Happy wedding, huh?”
“You’ve learned to heal?”
“Who knew? All those doctor shows maybe. Turns out it’s one of my best skills.”
“How’s your control?”
He both looked ill and proud—an odd combination I was one of the few who’d recognize and understand. “Perfect,” he said in a near whisper. “You know.”
“I do.” And, following impulse, I gripped his hand.
He looked surprised, then squeezed back. “Some club, huh?”
“I don’t even want to see the T-shirts. Do it. Starling needs you.”
Walt cocked his head and tapped the silver collar. “You’ll have to get the key.”
I stood, scanning for Marquise and Scourge. Last I’d heard, they were at the gate, lasering any spiders that made it through. Heavens knew where in the castle the gate would be located right now. Mastering my discomfort, I touched Marquise’s mind. She responded with a mental kiss, a filthy suggestion—and offered me the silver key. With a precise wish that had her smiling like a proud tutor, I manifested a lead box for her to put it in, then pulled the whole thing to me and unlocked Walter’s collar, touching it as little as I could get away with.
Walter looked much better than he had the last time I saw him. Of course it wouldn’t have taken much. But he’d lost the greasy chubbiness and certainly smelled better. Most of all, his former whining snarkiness had been replaced by a certain amount of steady character. With the silver removed, his personal magic welled up, full of browns and golds, distinctly human-flavored and earthy. Grounded. He’d never be a handsome man, but the discipline had given him a surprisingly attractive manliness.
“Decent power,” I commented.
He had his hands on Starling’s shoulders, looking into her. I tried to see what he did, but I slid into that mind-web world instead. Not somewhere I wanted to be with Titania waving her psychotic antennae outside. Odd that healing wasn’t one of my things, given my training in physiology. Sometimes I thought I knew too much and my brain got in the way.
“You were right,” Walter replied absently. “A few days away from the dragons and off the silver-tainted cocoa, and I stopped feeling so damn weak and crazy.” His eyes flashed up at me. “The staff too. It works on you.”
“I know.” I didn’t need reminding ofthat.
Starling whimpered and concern creased Walter’s brow. “Hush, fairy-fly. You’ll be okay.”
The blackened edges of the bites bubbled, poison edging out, oily black. “This stuff is slippery though. Hard to get a hold of.”
“I might be able to help.” I’d encountered Titania’s trademark goo before, though mainly in memories. The physical stuff looked the same though. “Mind if I look in?”
He snorted. “My head is an open playground these days. I have no secrets left. Come on in. Watch the land mines.”
Knowing what he meant—I certainly had plenty of PTSD tucked away from my own training with Marquise and Scourge, though it bothered me less and less these days—I eased in, careful to stay in his surface thoughts, following the bright lens of his concentration on Starling.
