“Arianna and the twins—and—”
“They are all here now.”
“Earth isn’t safe for them now,” she continued, “he’ll find her.”
“Your sister is here, Maeve. She is fine, as are your niece and nephew.”
“Antony? Is he alright?” she asked quickly.
“Yes, he is. Back on Heims.”
“My grandmother? She’s with Arianna?”
Reeve paused. “Maeve.”
She met his eyes at last. His next words were delivered with grace.
“Agatha passed on Earth.”
Another section of her insides began to chip away. Another hole that would need mending. Another goodbye forgotten. Denied. Maeve shook her head and swallowed painfully.
“Why?” she asked.
It was, of course, rhetorical, and she expected no answer from Reeve. She wasn’t asking for the logical explanation of her ancient grandmother’s natural death. She was asking why she had to suffer the loss of the closest thing to a mother in a time like this. She was asking why fate saw fit to deny her a chance to have one last tea.
Frustrated, she pushed up, sliding her back up the pillows, and warning signals fired off all across her body, each one narrowing down to a singular spot on her leg. Reeve’s hands were on her instantly, wrapping her torso in careful strength. She let her body loosen as he aided her in sitting up against the headboard. His hands retreated, and he settled himself next to her.
They were alone in her chamber.
She pulled the thick velvet blankets to the side, exposing her bare leg. She pulled back the hem of the cream nightgown that brushed her thighs, exposing the bright red and black skin that peeked out from beneath thick stitchings, stitchings that almost glowed. The wound was swollen and raw, black at the center, with a red starburst shape surrounding it.
Maeve reeled, a wave of nausea crashed over her as shock splintered through her system.
Reeve reached for the decanter on the nightstand and began to pour her a glass of water. “Zimsy dressed you.”
She didn’t even care about that. She didn’t care if all the healers saw her naked, and Reeve himself stared unashamed. She just wanted the pain gone. The Dread Dagger sat on her nightstand, gleaming and innocent with a clean tip. As though it wasn’t the source of her agony.
“Your healers can’t even numb the pain?” she asked weakly.
“They say nothing can subdue the effects of the dagger. It is darkness that is intended to hurt.”
Maeve rested her head back. “That was far from the triumphant encounter I envisioned.”
“It was your first.”
Maeve raised her brows.
Reeve handed her the goblet of water. “You should never expect a victory during a first battle.”
“This was not my first battle,” said Maeve icily.
Reeve ignored her tone and remained casual. “Like this it was.”
Maeve could feel her every heartbeat resonating from her thigh. Reeve watched her carefully.
“Drink, please,” he said.
Maeve’s eyes moved slowly back to him, and she sipped on the water. “I never imagined I’d be on the receiving end of such a weapon.” She looked back down at her leg and sighed. “Yet another scar for me to bear. By the time this is over, my body will be nothing but flecks and lines of white flesh and black veins.”
