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My onlookers crowded around me and watched as I stood. Stretching my arms out, I showed them what the harpy had done. “They’re gone,” I said, crying tears of joy.
I looked at the harpy, who was smiling warmly. “Thank you.”
She nodded and then pointed at my ankles.
Knowing the pain that was coming—and knowing it would stop relatively quickly—made it easier to face. I laid down on the cot and took a deep breath. Cyrus took my hand in his and gave it a soft squeeze.
I tried to smile up at him, but my attention was focused on Ladon. He stood behind his brother, visible over Cyrus’s shoulder. His head drooped, and he swallowed hard. I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted him beside me.
The harpy rolled my pants to reveal my ankles and then proceeded to spread the salve over those tattoos, too. I squeezed my eyes shut as the fire set in, gritting my teeth and counting upwards. I knew the pain had an end. I just needed to make it through.
When it had passed, I looked down at my feet. The same faint white scars that were on my wrists now marred my ankles, too. I didn’t expect to ever forget my experience in Murvort, but now I’d have a constant reminder.
Ladon took my place on the cot, and to my shock, he allowed the harpy to cover his wrists and ankles in the salve. He handled the pain better than I had the first time. The only signs of suffering he showed were the ripple of his jaw as he ground his teeth and the white knuckles gripping the edge of the cot.
“Your magic?” Cyrus inquired.
I felt the tingle immediately and was surprised by how easily it all came back to me. A gust of wind rippled through the curtain separating us from the rest of the tent and I sighed with relief as it blew through my hair.
Ladon displayed a similarly simple demonstration of his magic, molding a lump of clay into a ball and catching it in his right hand. He tossed it to Cyrus, who snatched it out of the air.
“Fantastic. Why don’t the two of you get some rest. Maybe some food too. You’re looking a little thin and I’m sure you’re both exhausted and hungry. What else can we get you?”
An actual meal and some sleep sounded amazing, but Ladon spoke first. “What about the battle? I want to see Xavier and talk about our next steps. I’ll need replacements for my weapons.”
“Slow down, Ladon. You’ve been missing for months. You don’t need to jump back into things so quickly.”
“Yes, I do. For one, it’s my job and two…I just…need this.”
I could hear the words he wasn’t saying because I felt them myself. I wanted some reassurance that my life still existed outside of Murvort. That after everything we’d been through, I was still me.
Cyrus seemed to hear the unspoken plea as well because he studied Ladon with careful consideration. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. I’ll take you to Xavier’s tent. But I’m having someone bring food. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Ladon nodded. “Thank you.”
I accompanied Cyrus and Ladon to a separate tent that had been set up for strategy meetings. They droned on for what felt like hours until I could no longer keep my eyes open.
“Why don’t you head back to my tent, Emilie. Hudson can take you there.”
It was impossible not to look at Ladon after Cyrus’s suggestion that I stay the night in his tent. Ladon pointedly kept his eyes fixated on the map covering a sturdy wooden table. I felt slighted, but what was he supposed to do? Suggest I stay with him instead? I would’ve said yes.
“Okay,” I told Cyrus. “I’ll see you soon.”
Hudson led me to the largest tent in the camp, and when I stepped inside, I found a small blue fire contained in the center. A magical making of Cyrus’s, I presumed. Overwhelmed with warmth and weariness, I took off the shoes I’d borrowed from the healer and sat on the edge of the bed.
I rested my head on the firm pillow, but it smelled all wrong. I wrapped my arms around my body, wishing they were someone else’s. Outside the tent, I could still hear soldiers moving and chattering. It was difficult to sleep, having been kept in silence for so long.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been tossing and turning when the flap of the tent opened and Cyrus came in. I started to sit, but he held up a hand.
“Don’t get up. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m surprised you’re still awake.”
“I was having a hard time falling asleep,” I admitted.
He unclasped the buckles on his coat and pulled it off, setting it aside on top of a chair. He looked as uncomfortable as I felt, running a hand over the scruff on his chin.
