Tears leak from her clenched eyes. ‘Everywhere!’
‘But there were no injuries that I could…’
I look up at Gwen in confused helplessness. Every movement I make hurts my human.
As Gwen bustles around, muttering that there are no marks, so where can the pain be coming from, I see Lia lurking in the doorway.
What is she doing here?
The question must show in my countenance because she shrugs at me.
'I'm the Harbinger,’ she says. ‘I go where I will. Didn't realize there'd be so much excitement here tonight, though. I only came to speak with Gwen and have a bit of dinner.’
She steps into the room. ‘What's wrong with her, Gwen?'
'I don't know,' Gwen mutters, her brow furrowed in worry.
She covers Bryn with the blanket again to protect her modesty, but even that seems to hurt her because she writhes in my arms and then stiffens and whimpers.
Lia’s expression goes from bemusement to sudden, stark horror, her face paling so quickly that my gut lurches.
'Do a revealing conjure, Locke,’ she whispers.
I frown at her, wondering if I have the strength.
‘My reserves are depleted from the magick I used earlier,’ I say, but I’m already trying. ‘Why?’
'Just do it if you can,' she commands quietly. 'Indulge me.'
My brow furrows. Though the Harbinger is a powerful entity, Lia rarely gives orders or expects to be readily obeyed.
My eyes close and my fingers move as I whisper the words, grunting at the exertion.
I hear both the women in the room gasp loudly and my eyes snap open to look down at my human. My stomach twists as I find Bryn covered in a mass of bruises, cuts, and scrapes. There are new marks all over her chest, her face, her arms, and legs.Everywhere. Her fingers are all at odd angles on her right hand. There are places where her flesh has blackened and swollen where bones are clearly broken. So many places.
And blood. It trickles from a deep wound in her stomach.
‘Gods,' Gwen exclaims softly and lurches forward, snatching a vial from her apron pocket and immediately tipping the contents down Bryn’s throat.
In my arms, Bryn convulses.
'Hold her still,’ Gwen commands me and my arms tighten around Bryn as much as they can without injuring her further.
‘One won't be enough,' Gwen says toward her orcs who are standing just outside the room, looking troubled by the events of the evening. 'Bring me at least three more. From the old stock we made last summer when the flowers were at their most potent.'
Both orcs’ shadows disappear from the doorway.
‘She’ll be all right,’ Gwen assures me, her hand landing lightly on my shoulder, but her jaw is tight.
She’s lying.
‘Just need to get her healing quickly, is all. She must have been bleeding for a while. Though,’ she looks back at the door in consternation, ‘it’s odd. Neither Grim nor Drak mentioned smelling it.’
‘I didn’t either,’ I whisper, staring down at my hurt human.
Lia is peering down at my shuddering human, her face drawn.
'What is this?' I ask her lamely. 'This was no typical conjure. Who would have the skill to do it?'
