Flick reached into his belt pouch. “I have herbs,” he said. “To help with the bleeding and the pain.” He held a handful of dried moss out to the clanswomen. Adele eyed the herbs but didn’t take them until Pashla nodded her reassurance. The younger clanswoman moved as if to apply the herbs to the wound but hesitated.
Flick spoke hesitantly. “I was taught to crumble some onto the wound and use the rest to press it in.” He scooted closer but stopped when Adele jerked away. “Sorry,” he said.
Adele handed the moss back to him. “You apply it,” she said.
Flick caught Kyra’s eye. She shrugged, unsure how to advise him. It seemed unwise to refuse, but tending to a wounded demon cat definitely carried its own risks. Flick drew a long breath, then did as Adele asked, crumbling the moss over the wound and then carefully, very carefully, pressing the moss to the demon cat’s shoulder. Kyra slumped with relief when the creature didn’t bite Flick’s hand off. Flick signaled for Adele to replace his hands with hers, then sat back on his heels.
An older Demon Rider pointed to Lettie and asked Pashla a question. Kyra took a protective half step toward the girl.
“He says she looks like Libena,” Pashla said, and gestured toward a very young demon cat in the shadows. Kyra recognized Libena’s yellow fur and large eyes and spotted Libena’s younger brother Ziben behind her. She’d met these two the last time she’d been with the Makvani.
The kittens stared at Lettie, who stared right back at them. Slowly, Libena crept closer until she stood just a few steps in front of Lettie. The kitten’s head came to the same height as the girl’s. Kyra watched them carefully, ready at any moment to snatch Lettie back. Libena sniffed at the air, while Lettie continued to stand completely still. Kyra found herself holding her breath. Strangely, it reminded her of the time she’d given Lettie a handful of grain and let her stand in the square for birds to land on her.
Suddenly, the demon kitten whirled around and ran back into the trees. Her brother followed quickly behind.
Pashla watched all this quietly and then signaled for Flick to stand up. “Let us go,” she said. “I’ll see you safely out of the forest.”
F O U R T E E N
The magistrate had a way of keeping one eye on Tristam as he wrote, nailing him with a suspicious gaze even as he simultaneously made notes on his desk. It was all Tristam could do to maintain his act under this unnerving scrutiny. He was fortunate, at least, that he was being questioned in the magistrate’s study rather than the interrogation rooms, and that for the past week he’d been under house arrest instead of in the Palace dungeons.
The magistrate stopped writing and lifted his parchment up to read, careful of the drying ink. This particular official wasn’t one of Willem’s lapdogs, though he wasn’t overly sympathetic to Malikel’s cause either. “I have your official statement, Tristam,” he said. “You admit to working alongside Kyra of Forge, but you maintain that you had no knowledge of her identity as a Demon Rider until the night of Sir Santon’s murder. Furthermore, you have no knowledge of her current whereabouts. Do you swear to this?”
“I do.”
It was clear from the way the men around Tristam exchanged disgusted looks that they didn’t believe him—not the magistrate, with his piercing gaze; not the Red Shields by the door, placed there “for his safety”; and certainly not Head Councilman Willem, watching the proceedings from his spot against the wall. But they had no evidence against him and more important targets to go after. The magistrate raised a questioning glance to Willem. “If Your Grace finds no problem with my report, I will declare him free to go.”
Willem drummed long fingers on the table. “Your report is satisfactory, but I’ll have a private word with Tristam before he’s released.”