My stomach dipped like I’d missed a step. “How do you know about that?”
She offered me her arm and bent closer when I took it, protected by her sleeve and my gloves. “Bastian told me. The way he acted when he carried you through the shadow door made it obvious how he felt about you, but he didn’t tell me anything else. Clearly something happened in Lunden—I’m just not sure what… or what the situation is with your husband.” Her eyebrows rose slowly.
I explained the bare bones of my arranged marriage and that Bastian had found out only after knowing me for months. I let her fill in how our relationship had been progressing and the brick wall it had ploughed into with the arrival of my husband.
“Bloody hells, Kat.” She shook her head and squeezed my arm. “That sounds… pretty shit, to be honest. At least you’re away from him now.”
I gave a dark chuckle. “Being away from him has never been the problem. I’ve been away from him for a long time… and yet I still can’t escape him.” I held in the sigh that wanted to blast out. It would do no good.
We arrived at the Hall of Healing and I scrunched my toes up inside my shoes, fighting the urge to run away.
I needed a cure. This was the only way.
So I sent Rose to wait for me at Ariadne’s, squared my shoulders, and went inside.
I didn’t know how much time passed, all I knew was that I staggered from the Hall of Healing, battling nausea and dizziness.
I turned corner after corner, hoping to find that same side street, but my earlier journey was a blur, and this one wasn’t much better.
The image of blood and sizzling skin. The memory of my own sobs in the treatment room, while in reality I stumbled along the road, biting my tongue.
All I could do was avoid the busier roads and keep an eye out for somewhere small to hide while I recovered.
Ahead, a bellow shattered the quiet. “Shut up!”
The few folk on the street swerved to one side, giving me a view of a man on his knees, gathering vegetables and bread from the ground. A basket of food lay on its side.
Someone must’ve knocked into him. I blocked an apple rolling down the hill with my foot and scooped it up.
Face screwing up, he curled in on himself. “Quiet!”
But the road was quiet.
This wasn’t so simple as I’d first thought. Was he ill—a sickness of the mind? Or maybe something magical I didn’t understand. No one stopped to help. If anything, the one passerby who did look at him wrinkled their nose in disgust.
Wary, I approached, but he seemed lost in his own world, sharp breaths hissing between his teeth. Below his pale violet hair, pain etched his features, and my chest squeezed in response. No sign of blood or obvious injury, though.
“So many,” he muttered. “Too many.”
One eye on him, muscles tight and ready to dart away, I gathered the spilled vegetables and loaf of bread and reloaded the basket.
My mind whispered, “Unsafe. Keep clear.”
Yet my heart answered, “But look at his pain. You know pain.”
The practical option would be to place the basket at his feet and continue on my way. But that felt cruel, especially with such a fresh reminder of my own agony making my fingers twitch around the basket’s handle.
This could be a distraction. If I focused on someone else, I might forget about what had just happened—for a few minutes, at least.
“Hello?” I kept my voice soft—fae hearing was sharp, after all. No response. Lightly, I nudged him with the basket. No chance of poisoning him.
Piercing violet eyes opened, the perfect match for his hair. He stared at the basket, then me as if to ask what the hells I wanted.
“Do you need some help?”
A gaggle of fae hurried past, and his face screwed up again. He gave a soft grunt but nodded. “Home. I need… Home.”
Helping the poor man get home wasn’t a great risk, and hopefully not too great a detour. I’d get rid of my pallor by the time I caught up with Rose.
He stood and hunched into the wall, half-staggering as he gestured ahead.
Besides, he’d have to be a fool to attack me when I was under the protection of the Night Queen’s Shadow. And if he was a fool, well, I had my bow on my back and the boot pistol hidden beneath my skirts… not to mention a touch that could kill.
My throat tightened at the idea of using it. I’d spent so much time worried I was going to accidentally poison someone, it hadn’t crossed my mind to deliberately touch anyone. The rose’s death played out in my mind, and I shuddered.
“Is it far?”
He lifted his head, peering up the road. “Not far. Not long.” With a grunt, he staggered as though wrestling some great weight.
It might not be far, but at this rate he wasn’t going to stay on his feet long enough to make it, and I wouldn’t be able to carry him.
I checked my gloves were securely in place and that he wore a thick jacket. That had to be safe, right? I touched my potion bottle to reassure myself it was there before clutching my magic to keep it small. All that in place, I took his arm.
Trembling, he leant on me. Strange to be the strong one in the equation, but then Tenebris-Luminis was a strange place by night or day.
He made a low sound that might’ve been a “thank you” or a “bugger off” but didn’t pull away, and we made quicker progress.
I took the opportunity to examine him more closely. One of the older looking fae I’d seen, as a human, I’d have said he was almost fifty. His pale violet hair could fit Dusk or Dawn, and his grey clothing didn’t help me place him, either.
His jacket was a thick wool but smooth—it probably felt soft, but I couldn’t tell through my glove—and the hems were clean and crisp. His leather shoes shone. Although his hair was messy like it had been cut by an eight-year-old, he looked otherwise well groomed and if not wealthy, then comfortably off.
At the next corner, he dragged on my hold and nodded when we turned. A few houses down, he slowed and pulled a key from his pocket. I helped him inside, but had to stop on the threshold as magic rolled over me, thick and smothering like a blanket.
It took a couple of breaths before I could open my eyes. I went for my pocket, where I’d cut a hole that would let me reach my pistol.
But the fae was bent over the table, dragging in deep breaths, and there was no sign of another soul.
The magic wasn’t an attack but… something else. And maybe I was a fool for entering a strange fae’s home, but he didn’t look in a fit state to attack a plate of food, never mind me.
Beyond the table, a wall of books gave the room a delightfully cluttered feel, and two cosy armchairs sat beside the fireplace. The moon and star decoration surrounding the fireplace answered my earlier question. Dusk Court. My shoulders eased.
A kitchen with cabinets and a stove occupied another wall, so I took the basket over.
“Am I all right to leave you now or…?”
He didn’t respond, just continued his long inhale and long exhale, palms pressed into the table.