“What happened?” Jacin said, shrugging off Sybil’s hand and rushing toward her. He went to place his palm over her bloodied cheek but hesitated. He covered his hand with his sleeve first before pressing the material against her.
“Shall I call for a medic, Your Highness?” said Sybil, folding her hands into her own sleeves.
“I’m fine, thank you. You can step aside so that I might retire to my quarters.”
“If you are sure I cannot be of service.” Sybil did step aside, even bowed her head, but an amused smile lingered on her lips as Winter brushed past her. Jacin stayed with her, step for step, applying pressure to the cheek that she had not dared touch. It hadn’t stopped stinging, and the pain was a persistent reminder of what she had endured and the choices she had made. She would never regret those choices, scars or no.
“Who did this?” Jacin demanded as Winter shoved through her bedroom door, leaving her personal guard outside.
“I did, of course,” she said, to which he stared, aghast. She snorted bitterly. “My hand did.”
His eyes blazed, full of murder. “The queen?”
She had only to stay silent to confirm it.
Rage cascaded over his face, but he turned away too fast for Winter to appreciate the depth of it. He pulled her into the powder room and set her on the edge of the tub. Within minutes, he had cleaned the wounds and applied a generous amount of healing salve.
“I shouldn’t have left you,” he muttered through gnashed teeth as he applied a makeshift bandage of cotton strips. Winter was impressed that he was able to keep his hands so calm, while his expression was so furious.
He would make a great doctor.
“You had no choice,” she said. “Neither of us did.”
“Why would she do this to you? Is she jealous?”
She met his flashing gaze. “Why would the queen be jealous of me?”
His anger sizzled. “How does this benefit her?”
“She said that she wanted me to learn to use my gift, so that I would stop making a mockery of the crown. She thought that if I … she thought this would motivate me to learn to use my glamour.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “To hide the scars.”
She nodded. “I also think she wanted to remind me that I’m … that I belong to her. That I’m nothing but a pawn in her game, to be used as she sees fit.” She slumped, letting go of the composure she’d fought so hard for. “But I am not her pawn. I refuse to be.”
Jacin stood with his hands strangling a towel for a long moment, looking like he wanted to keep working, keep cleaning, keep bandaging, but he’d already done all he could. Finally, with a huff, he sat beside her on the tub’s edge. His anger was fading, replaced with guilt. “If she thinks you’re intentionally not using your gift, she might see it as rebellious.” His tone was subdued now, though his fingers showed no mercy to the towel. “I think she is jealous. Because people like you. They respect you. And you don’t have to manipulate them for it.”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” said Winter. “I just … I just don’t want to be like her. Like them!”
Jacin smiled, but it was tired. “Exactly. What could be more threatening than that?”
She sagged further, settling her face into her hands, careful not to press against her stinging cheek. Then she frowned and peered up at Jacin from the corner of her eye. “What did Thaumaturge Mira want?”
He inhaled sharply. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t say anything, but finally he spoke. “She came to tell me that I would need to find new housing accommodations if my plan is to stay in Artemisia until my internship begins next year.”
Her brow creased. “New housing? Why wouldn’t you stay here in the palace?”
“Because my parents are leaving.”
She straightened.
“My father’s been transferred to one of the outer sectors, as a security guard.”
Her heart thumped. “A demotion? But … why?”
Jacin started to shake his head, but then stopped and met her gaze, and instantly Winter knew why.
She was spending too much time with this boy.
She was in love with this boy.
And that would not fit into Levana’s perfectly constructed plans for her. That could cause problems for the queen and whatever alliance she planned to cement using Winter’s hand as the purchase price.
Send his family away, and the boy would leave too.
She pressed a hand over her mouth.
“My parents don’t seem to mind,” said Jacin. “I think they’re both relieved to be getting out of Artemisia. All the politics.” And the manipulations, he didn’t say, but didn’t have to.
“You’re leaving me,” she breathed.
Jacin pursed his lips. He looked terrified as he snaked his hand beneath her arm, entwining their fingers together. Their hands fit like a lock and key. It had been years since they had simply held hands, and she wished they had never stopped.
“No,” he said. “I’m not leaving you.”