She fell back, away from him, but there was nothing but air to hold on to. She tumbled and fell toward the earth, which rushed to meet her as she screamed.
And then it wasn’t her screaming, it was a baby. She placed it on her breast, put her nipple in its mouth, and the child fell silent. Then a garrote crossed her body from breast to womb … and the baby was Katya, with a white streak of hair. Gemma dropped her, but the girl turned into Devery, and she pulled him back to her. He held the wire in his hands. He put it around Gemma’s neck and drank from her breast until he was sated. The wire pulled tighter and tighter until Gemma was all but gone.
She awoke screaming in a darkened room that she did not recognize. A flame flared nearby. Devery stood over her holding a candle, his pale face haggard. Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered, “Thank the goddess.”
She tried to get away from him, but she couldn’t move and there was nowhere to go. She was tangled in bedsheets, damp with sweat, trembling. Pain forced the air from her lungs. She doubled over and screamed again.
“Gemma,” Devery said, his hand hovering above her but not touching her. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” He was crying, tears streaming down his face.
By the time she’d caught her breath, he was lighting the lantern by her bedside. His face crumpled as his gaze fell on the bed. She looked down at the white coverlet. It was twisted and tangled and soaked in blood.
Her heart shattered. Too many fractures in such a short span of time had made it weak. She hadn’t been certain that she was with child, but she had hoped. She didn’t have the strength to stop herself from whispering, “Our baby …”
His hands were balled into fists as his face crumpled with grief. “I’m going to gut my mother for this, so help me goddess.”
It had been years since she’d seen that sort of rage sweep over him. Not since Elam had been taken by that bastard Ragram had Devery been so angry. A sob of fear and heartbreak escaped her lips, and he wrapped her in his arms and cradled her against his chest.
Devery was staring at the blood-soaked sheets. He echoed the words that Gemma had said. “Our baby? Our baby? Oh, Aegos,” he moaned, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Gemma, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to make this better. I can’t make this better. This is all my fault.”
“What happened?” Gemma groaned, as another pain raked through her. Her arms pressed against her belly.
The air stuttered in and out of Devery. “My mother … poisoned you,” he said. “It was not enough to kill, but enough to make you sleep for a long while, and also, apparently, enough to …” He trailed off and swallowed hard. “We’ve come to violence over it.” He held up his hand, which she now noticed was heavily bandaged.
He chuckled. “I gave her as good as I got. She can toss burning mage marks at me, but so far as I know, there’s no mark that will grow back an ear.”
Gemma bit her lip and turned away from him. She could feel another pain building within her, but it was less than the pain of grief that threatened to swallow her whole. It was all too much.
“Where are we?” she croaked, when the wave of pain had passed.
Devery held a cup of water out to her. She eyed it for an instant, then drank. He noticed her hesitation. His voice trembled as he said, “Our old apartment on Thieves’ Row. It wasn’t my idea. I wanted to get you closer to Shadowtown, but—”
A soft knock on the door interrupted him. “Come in,” Devery said hoarsely. The door creaked open to reveal Elam dressed in rough woolen breeches and a loose-fitting linen shirt. It had been years since Gemma had seen him in such simple garb. It made him look younger.
“Hey,” he said, slipping through the door. He purposefully overlooked the blood on the blankets and focused instead on her face. “How are you feeling?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, and when she exhaled, it came out as a broken sob.
“Oh, doll. Come here.” He sat down beside her and ran fingers through her hair. “You’re a mess,” he said, chuckling softly. For an instant, his gaze fluttered to Devery, who watched her with raw emotion.
“Dev, you haven’t slept in days. Bring me a tub of hot water, and I’ll help Gemma get cleaned up while you rest for a while.”
Devery started to shake his head in protest, but Gemma stopped him. “Please,” she breathed. “I can’t think with you here.”
A few minutes later, Devery came back with a tub of steaming water, a sponge and a stained towel. “Best I could find,” he said, setting the tub down beside the bed. He reached out to Gemma, fingers hovering above her hand before clenching his fist and turning to the door. “Will you be all right?” He looked back.
A sudden wave of emotion ran through her. She nodded because words wouldn’t form. It wasn’t true, of course. Nothing would ever be all right again.
“I’m so sorry, Gemma,” Devery said. He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath.
“I know,” she choked. “I … I love you.” She wondered if she was the only one who could hear what was unspoken. The slump of his shoulders as he turned to leave told her that she was not.
When he was gone, Elam bent close to her. “That was a kindness you did for him.”
Hot tears stung her eyes. “Being a kindness doesn’t necessarily make it a lie,” she said, as she swung one leg over the edge of the bed.
“No,” Elam said, as he began to untie the robe she still wore, “but it doesn’t necessarily make it the truth, either.”
“I’m beginning to think that there are only versions of the truth and degrees to a lie,” she said, as he pressed the wet sponge to her forehead. Rivulets of water streamed down her face. He started to gently scrub her hair.
“You know, I usually get paid twenty gold to give a bath, Regency.”
She laughed, in spite of everything. “I seem to have left my purse at home. Can I get a line of credit?”
He chortled. “Whoring on credit is very, very bad business.” He grinned and lathered her up with soap. “Tip back,” he said, as he poured a cup of steaming water over her head and down her back. “I’m not sure that I can give the lady credit,” he went on, scrubbing sweat and grime from her arms, breasts and belly, “but I know a sad-eyed gentleman who would pay anything to see you smile.”
She sighed. “What am I going to do?”
“That’s not my place to say, but I believe that Devery is telling you as much of the truth as you’ll ever hope to see. That man loves you, and he’s made himself sick with worry. He’s been making plans while you slept—he’s trying to undo as much as he can.” He moved around to her back, scrubbing away the residue of the past few days.
The soap he was using smelled like lavender. Gemma breathed it in. Some things could never be undone. “How long did I sleep?” she asked, turning away from the question of Devery, as Elam began to work his way lower, sponging away the remains of her too-brief pregnancy.
“Six days,” he said, as he rinsed out the bloody sponge and continued to gently bathe her. He had the touch of a caregiver—efficient, but gentle. “We moved you on the night of the third.”
She shook her head, confused. “Brinna just let us go?”
He laughed low in his throat. “Not exactly. When Devery realized I was watching the safe house, he put a plan into action. He left me a message on your window asking me to cause a distraction and then meet him in the tunnels. Apparently, when he commissioned his mother’s manor, he created a quick escape route that he never bothered to tell her about, but in the chaos we caused, he wasn’t able to get his daughter out. He had to leave her there. He’s confused and angry and worried and desperate.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Elam rinsed the sponge, again. “I know,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, so does he.”