“And Saska? Where’s she?”
“In the state apartments. Can’t have someone of her ilk staying with us commoners, now, can we?” It was said with a smile, and without rancor.
“We surely can’t.” I echoed her smile and held out my good hand. “I’m Neve.”
She wiped a hand on her skirts then shook mine. “Treace. Chief nurse and all-round dogsbody in this place.”
“How long am I likely to be held in this place, Treace?”
Her smile grew. “I was wondering when we’d get to that question. It’s usually the first one I’m asked.”
“And do you have an answer in this particular instance?”
“Not really. Not until Mace appears to examine your wounds, and he’s currently up with the Rossi woman.” She dumped the washcloth back into the water and grabbed a towel. “But your leg has healed rather nicely and I’m thinking it’ll be sooner rather than later.”
She began drying me off. It was a rough caress that had shivers of delight running through me. Which again was decidedly odd, because I wasn’t normally that sensitive to touch, especially when it involved someone I wasn’t physically attracted to. Maybe it was just a hangover from near death—a renewed appreciation of life and everything it involved.
There was a soft knock on the door at the far end of the room, then it opened slightly and another woman poked her head through the gap. “Lord Kiro wants to interview our Nightwatch officer, if she’s feeling up to it.”
Treace glanced at me. “Are you?”
“That depends on who Lord Kiro is.”
Her smile remained in place, but her eyes told a different story. Lord Kiro was someone she was uncertain—maybe even afraid—of. “The Rossi clan sent him here to confirm Saska’s identity. Apparently she’s been missing for nigh on twelve years now.”
Meaning he was from the Rossi clan? “Why does he want to talk to me? I don’t know her—I just rescued her.”
Treace shrugged. “I’ll send him away if you wish.”
I hesitated and then shook my head. “It will only delay the inevitable. But I’d like something to eat once he’s gone, if that can be arranged.”
“It surely can.” She pulled the bedsheet back over my body, and then nodded an acceptance at the other woman before heading out the door to my right.
I pushed up into a sitting position and tugged the sheet up over my breasts. While nudity didn’t faze me, I’d heard those of earth and air were a whole lot less comfortable in their skin than the Nightwatch tended to be. Of course, we lived in cramped quarters and shared bathing facilities, while those who lived in either the Upper or Lower Reaches not only had the benefit of their own huge dwellings, but also privacy and the ability to be alone when not on duty.
While I waited for Lord Kiro to appear, I glanced down at my left arm. It, like my left cheek, my right hip, leg, and the entirety of my foot, was stained, but the leathery skin looked lavender in the half-light of the hospital. It was an unwanted legacy of the past and the war, when the Irkallan had not only overrun all the villages and farms that had once dotted Tenterra, but had also raped those who’d survived the slaughter, be they men, women, or children. Those of us who carried this unwanted reminder of that time were no longer outcast or looked upon with revulsion—for the most part—but because we were also rarely gifted with any ability in magic, few considered us to be ideal partners. Even those who were totally ungifted—the blacksmiths, bakers, builders, even the Nightwatch with whom I lived—would not consider undertaking the committal ceremony with someone such as me. It was a fact I’d long ago accepted, even if in the deeper recesses of night and dreams I sometimes ached for more.
The stain actually looked quite pretty in this light, but it was somewhat spoiled by the scar that now ran from my knuckles to my elbow. Although it would fade with time, it was currently an ugly, ragged pink line that spoke of death’s closeness. But I guessed I was lucky that two scars and a reconstructed digit was all I’d come away with. It could have been a whole lot worse.
The door down the far end of the room opened and a tall, silver-haired gentleman stepped through. Despite the fact he looked to be well past his fifties—maybe even his sixties—his power rode before him like a wave and sent electricity racing across my skin, making it jump and itch. But it wasn’t the power of the air and the storms; it wasn’t even the power of the earth. It was deeper—and more personal—than that.
I resisted the urge to scratch and watched him warily. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and it was a color that suited him, for it emphasized both the strength of his body and the fierceness of his power—a power that both appealed and repelled, all at the same time.
“Neve March, we owe you a great debt.” He snagged a chair, dragged it up to my bed, and sat down.
I resisted the ridiculous urge to edge away from him and forced a smile. “I was only doing my job.”
“I don’t think there are many who would act as you did.” He paused, his gaze sweeping me, lingering briefly on the stains that were on show. “I don’t think there are many who could.”
I frowned at the odd emphasis he placed on “could.” “All Nightwatch are trained the same. I did nothing more than what was expected of me.”
“Perhaps.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. I had a vague feeling he was somehow here to judge me, but why that would be the case I had no idea.
“Tell me about finding Saska and how the two of you managed to survive the Adlin.”
My frown deepened. “Surely she’s already done that?”
“Her version is decidedly sketchy on details.”
“She was semi-unconscious for much of it,” I replied. “But it thankfully didn’t stop her from raising the wind. We’d be dead if not for that.”
“Indeed.”
While there was nothing in his tone or his expression that suggested disbelief, it nevertheless wrapped around me like a glove—a glove that felt like silk and steel combined, and one that had goose bumps skittering across my skin. It wasn’t all fear—far from it. But I didn’t dare acknowledge what the rest of it was, because to do so would give it power. And it was a power, the wind whispered, he would not hesitate to use.
“Please,” he continued, “I’d really like to hear your version of events.”
I studied him for a second, a deep sense of unease growing. Something was going on, something I didn’t understand and couldn’t immediately fight. But I obeyed, only omitting my part in the wind’s actions.
By the time I’d finished, he was leaning forward, his arms resting on the edge of the bed close to my hip, as if drawn there by anticipation of the story’s end. Yet I was no storyteller and he already knew how this particular tale ended.
“That is all quite extraordinary,” he said. “Saska’s powers have certainly grown in the twelve years of her absence.”
His tone suggested that should not have been the case. “Has she remembered where she’s been in that time?”
A glimmer of amusement appeared in his pale eyes; he knew a redirect when he heard one. “No. Nor can she remember who the father of her child might be or how she came to be in possession of an Adlin beacon. It’s a puzzle, and one her husband will undoubtedly desire an answer to.”
If Saska was committed, then she must have gone through the ceremony as soon as she’d come of age, as she appeared to be no older than me.
“I gather a full scan has been run on her?”
He smiled, knowing full well what I was actually asking. “Of course.”
His tone suggested it was the first thing they’d done, and surely meant the babe wasn’t Adlin.