“I’ll stitch it now,” he warned. Craning my neck, I examined the wound. The cut was clean, but ran deep, oozing despite Lycandor’s fingers pinching it shut.
“Will it heal?”
“Yes, but Falstaff will die anyhow. One way or another.”
I nestled back into the pillow. “Good. Though it shall be penance indeed to have him join me in the pits.”
He threaded the needle.
“If you are clever, if you are smart, if youlisten,it will be a while before you must endure such a fate. There is hope yet, even after this mess. I will see to it.”
I stamped down the hope, aware of its foolishness. “How shall you do it?”
“Keep you alive?”
“No. Take his life.”
Without warning, he made the first stitch, a sharp nip, robbing me of breath.
“I could wring his neck,” he mused between another loop. “Stab his heart. Cut him into little pieces and feed them to the templum’s hounds. Or I’ll simply tie him down and arm you with a blade. It would be a delight to witness whatever creative solution you devise, though I doubt it could ever exceed the genius of your first.” His dark helm glinted orange from the fire, the mesh boring into the cut. “Heed this, though, Seamstress.Even if you somehow become inclined to mercy, I have no such compunctions.” Another bite of the needle. “I promise you, it’ll be slow, it’ll be agony… He’ll wish he’d taken that blade to himself, not your body, once I’m done.”
“Do not condemn yourself on my account.” I clenched my teeth at another stab of its point.
“His ledger drips with more than just your blood. I would have done it sooner, but”—he froze, as if the words had lodged in his throat—“but I could not. Finished.”
His mesh shifted, as if waiting for approval. I nodded as he turned his attentions to my breast, swiping at the gash with the same gentleness as the one at my hip. The pot of water sloshed red, the cloth sodden pink.
“Is this because of thedecreesI am not privy to know of?”
“Yes.” Another swipe. “I do not keep you in the dark for spite. Not only am I forbidden to speak of it to those who are uninitiated, but if things went south, and we were separated and you were put throughinquisition,”he spat the word like the dirtiest of curses, “then it could put everything I’ve worked towards in jeopardy.”
“Is that where you were? When they…”
He plonked the cloth into the water with a messy splash.
“I was not quilling letters over a goblet of wine whilst he cut you, Ashara. Look at me.” I shifted towards his veil, to the pinpricks of light glowing under the metal. “I was in the catacombs, far, far underground. There is no other chamber in this templum that I wouldn’t have been able to scent you, your fear or your joy, not now that I’ve tasted it.” He hung his head, the chain pooling over his chest. “I failed you this day. Do not think I won’t penance myself for it.”
“You owe me nothing, Druid.” I focused on the carvings above that branched over us, the leaves etched in wood. “I am a riddle, a puzzle to solve. Don’t think me ungrateful for your attempt tokeep my blood in my veins, but I’m under no illusions that your true concern is what lurks within it.”
Fists scrunching the linens, his body leaned forward until he hovered over me, the weight of his veil resting on my stomach.
“Try as I might, the riddle I cannot crack is not your blessing, or your blood, but why I feel so compelled to you.”
I gritted my teeth, that urge to tear at his covering roaring anew.
“I cannot make sense of it,” he whispered above me, more to himself than to me. “But regardless…” As I fought to control the rise and fall of my chest, he returned to the stool, retrieving the needle. “It seems we have run out of time.” Without warning, he slid the needle through the first part of the cut, on the underside of my breast. He worked quickly, efficiently, more practiced after stitching the first.
“Time for what?” I asked.
“To do things the way they were meant to be done. Instead, we must leave.”
I rose to my elbows, stilling his hand. The other cupped me, pressing the split flesh together. “We are to leave?”
He hummed. “By boat, so I hope you’ve been assiduous in your studies of naval travel. I wasn’t playing templum librarian simply for fun. Let’s pray you’ve been a diligent student.”
I had not.
My lips thinned before remembering the book he’d retrieved, scanning the shelves to the sides of the bed for any hint of its spine.
