Page 40 of Anomalies

I exhale, a sea of anger swelling in my gut. “I’m aware of that possibility. But what if she isn’t?” Her eyes sharpen, but she doesn’t respond. “Delia,” I beg, “I have an obligation to⁠—”

“Me,” she hisses. “You have an obligation to your High Priestess, or do I need to remind you of your oath?”

“My oath is to our people,” I bite back, despite my best judgement. But unfortunately, my temper doesn’t give a fuck about my best judgement right now. “My obligation is to protect them.”

Shadows flicker across her navy irises. “And every time you leave, you jeopardize the safety of our people. Why do you think I limit your trips through the Banyan? Each time your coven uses that portal, you risk Pirn being found.”

“We have the Banyan’s judgment, and we cover our tracks every time.”

“Any of your men could be captured and tortured for information⁠—”

“Which we would guard with our lives.” A few nurses turn in our direction when my voice carries a little too loudly. I wave them off, and they continue bustling about the room. “Delia.” I pull her attention back. “My men know what it would mean to be captured.”

Death. It would mean death. No amount of torture would make us talk.

The Dame stares off at the chaos in the room. I track her gaze to where Lila still holds Iris’s hand.

“The last time Elliot and Lila saw their daughter, she was a child,” I remind her, and The Dame’s proud gaze softens— only a fraction. “Whatever horrors Iris witnessed…whatever conditions she grew up in…she. Grew. Up. They kept her alive. The odds of there being others are⁠—”

“Others like your father?”

My jaw snaps shut.

“Is that why you won’t give this up?” she pushes. “Callan, they killed nobility first, you know that. They hung their bodies from the gates. Why would they have kept just your father alive?”

I take a step back. I have to. And when I finally face her again, I’m a barely reigned-in version of myself. “Why keep anyone alive? That’s what we should be asking ourselves. There’s some other motive here, don’t you see? There’s more to this than we realize, Delia. I know the odds of my father having survived. I know they are slimmer than the odds of Iris, but she’s here. She’s aliv⁠—”

Gemma begins shouting, urging the Vaughns to back away from the bed as nurses flood the room. Iris is seizing, her body jerking around as foam gathers at the corners of her mouth. Lila cries out for her daughter, fighting against her husband’s hold, tears rolling freely down his face.

“Hold her head!” Gemma instructs a timid nurse whose fingers tremble as she tries to do just that. Once she has her stable, Gemma presses her hands into Iris’s temples, golden Mender magic flaring at her fingertips.

The seizure subsides almost instantly, and Iris is still. Utterly still.

The entire room holds its breath.

Slowly, Iris’s haunted eyes crack open, and as soon as they fall on Lila and Elliot, they well with tears. Her mother breaks her husband’s hold and rushes back to her bedside.

“Hi, bean,” Elliot sobs, and Iris’s face crumples. “We’ve missed you.”

Gemma moves slowly away from the bed, her gaze meeting mine as she crosses the room to where Delia and I stand.

“Your Grace,” she says, bowing her head low to the Dame, then she turns to face me. “If you want to talk to her, you’ll need to do it now.”

“I will, Gemma, but I want her parents to have time⁠—”

My words trail off when Gemma shakes her head, her lips a tight line. “Iris doesn’t have time, Callan.”

All the air leaves my lungs.

“What do you mean?” Delia asks.

Gemma watches me as I weigh the options, running a hand across my dirt-ridden face. “Your Grace,” she starts, “Iris has a disease that was left untreated for too long. Something she picked up or could have been born with?” Gemma’s shoulders fall on her exhale. “She has minutes.”

I remain frozen for a moment, watching all that hope swell in Lila and Elliot’s eyes as they hold the daughter they never thought they’d see again.

Gods, we ran back as fast as we could.

“Thank you, Gemma.” The oxygen I inhale is sharp in my lungs, then I turn to Hunter, shutting off the well of emotion that makes my throat swell, and I slip on the icy mask of the Captain. “Clear the room,” I tell him.