“He’s nosy,” I translated, while Ferren dabbed Innis’s forehead again.
“I looked back, but no one was there. Figured it was a bird.” He paused. “I don’t remember anything after that. Just heat everywhere. Like I’d swallowed fire.”
“Did you see anyone?” Nik asked.
Innis shook his head.
“What about an Anima?” I asked. If I had any hope of shielding Luna from the practitioner’s grasp, I needed to find the Aetheric practitioner.
“I’m not one of the ones that can see,” Innis said. “You are?”
I nodded. “I can see a bit.”
“What happened next?” Nik asked quietly.
“A dream. No, a nightmare. There were soldiers, and I was trying to kill someone. Only it wasn’t me trying, and I couldn’t make my arms do what I wanted. The heat—it was so hot. And the world kept flashing.” He took a breath, the edge of it ragged with emotion and exhaustion. “Then there was such a pain as Inever felt before.” He moved a hand to his wound, his fingers grazing the linen. “The fire cooled a bit, and I could feel my body again.” He wiped at his eyes, unwilling to let the tears fall, at least in front of us.
“I injured you,” Nik said. “It was the only way we knew to stop you, to make the Anima leave.”
Innis nodded. “Then I guess I’m grateful for it, as long as it heals.”
Ferren looked pleadingly at each of us. “Will it heal? Will he be healthy again?” There was real fear in her eyes now, that his suffering would continue, or she might lose him.
“It’ll be fine,” Innis said. “I’m already feeling better. Must be the poultice.” Another harsh breath, and he closed his eyes again. “Think I need a little more lie-down.”
“We’ll leave you to rest,” I said, giving the guards a look that said they’d be leaving with us.
We walked in silence through the passageway and back to the main road, where a soldier stood with two very large horses that nosed at the grass growing at the edge of the road. When we stopped, Nik turned his gaze on me. “You told Ferren everything?”
“Yes. She deserved to know.”
“You’re a ghostfinder?” Galen asked with a condescending sneer in his voice.
Most ghostfinders pried coins out of strongholders with the promise of finding malevolent Anima in their homes and banishing them with a few clangs of their “resonance bowl.” Fancy words for a bell that made coins for the frauds and did nothing else. That was unrighteous theft.
“I’m no grifter,” I said. “I can see Anima and Aether.”
“How do you see Aether?” Nik asked.
“It leaves a visible trace.”
Galen muttered something about grifters.
“Have enough wealth,” I said, “and you can afford to believe the world is only what you see and hear, and not worry about ‘peasant magic.’ ”
“You don’t know us,” Nik said, his voice sharp. “Don’t pretend that you do.”
“Don’t pretend the prince cares about Innis,” I said. “He cares about his own neck.”
“This may come as a great shock to you, Fox, but he’s capable of caring about more than one thing at once.”
I crossed my arms. “His predecessor wasn’t.”
Nik stared down at me. “The prince isn’t his brother.”
Galen must not have liked the heat in my eyes. “Please step back.”
I looked at him, then back at Nik. Like circling predators, we’d moved so close our knees nearly touched. We both stepped back, but my heart still thudded harder than it should have. I felt a little better when I noticed that he looked as disconcerted as I did.
