I unclipped my cloak and pulled it off, draping her in the thick indigo fabric.
“You’re safe,” I said, as softly as I could, wrapping the coat around her and lifting her into my arms.
“Fetch a healer!” I shouted at the Salt soldiers who stood around me, gaping.
One of my own guards appeared at my side and I nodded to him. “Find the palace healer, then fetch cold water and towels to her room immediately.”
I tucked her against my chest, ensuring my cloak covered her. I didn’t want to hurt her further and risk touching any skin that was burned, though from what little I saw of her body was unblemished.
It was remarkable there were no burns marring her dark skin.
How was that possible?
Reza lay on the edge of the pile of dead burnt things, clutching his leg in pain as I carried Yaseema out against my chest. His lip was curled and his eyes blazed.
“This is the work of the rebels, boy. They tried to kill me!” He pointed to his blackened leg.
“And she saved your life,” I snarled back at him.
He blinked at me, momentarily stunned I’d addressed him that way.
Iwas stunned as well.
But this time my anger couldn’t be contained; it roared up in my chest like the rotting beast I’d set loose in the palace.
Except now I was the rotted thing, the dark, snarling creature ready to kill him.
My plan had been to finally try to kill Reza, but instead I’d hurt someone who didn’t deserve to be hurt.
For the first time, my rage was all for myself.
“She needs a healer.” I strode away from Reza before I could react any further, before I could completely destroy any advantage I had in this Court by being a fool.
I took the stairs two at a time, running her back to her room. My guards were already in the room by the time I got there, as was Mishah from the kitchens.
I placed her on the bed, my cloak still wrapped around her.
Her eyelids fluttered, causing something to ease in my chest.
She wasn’t dead.
Her condition seemed unfathomable. She’d been trapped in a burning inferno, and by all accounts she should be in agony, her skin burnt and black like Reza’s leg.
But my cloak slipped down one of her shoulders and the brown curve of it was unharmed. I touched my fingertips to the exposed skin, not believing my eyes. It was soft and cool—no sign of any trauma or wound.
She’d walked into my death beast and set it on fire without a single injury.
It had to be connected to her magic somehow. My eyes skimmed her figure, alighting on the thick bangles at her wrist. I’d returned these to her with the rest of her things, only taking Queen Azari’s haath phool from her. But perhaps I should’ve taken a closer look at these.
As I bent to examine them, Badrah, the palace healer, burst into the room in a flurry of activity.
“Captain! I was with the Viceroy. His leg needed to be repaired, the skin regrown,” Badrah said, looking harried. Her duties usually involved tending to Salt soldiers’ injuries from skirmishes with rebels in the city.
“Were you able to help him?”
“I think so, especially after experimenting on the Salt soldier that had been injured by the last rebel creature in the palace. I’ve managed to reverse whatever blight is causing this. Was she hit by it?”
I shook my head, looking down at Yaseema, whose eyelids stayed firmly shut. Even her hair remained as wild as before, though I noted one side of it had been burned by the fire.
