Page 47 of A Divided Duty

Luna’s healing was nowhere near as smooth or fast as my own, but it was better than nothing. I slashed the knife across my hand a second time, keeping the blood flowing, and watched the cuts disappear, leaving smooth skin behind.

“She’ll do better in sight of the trees,” said Acacia, picking Luna up. Luna didn’t react, and I didn’t object—there’s only so far I’m willing to go when arguing with a supposedly friendly Firstborn. Acacia carried Luna out of the room and through the building, back to the skerry outside. Tybalt and I followed.

When Acacia set Luna on the ground and retreated I stayed close, watching for the moment when Luna would wake up. I didn’t have to wait for long.

It began with a delicate fluttering of her impossibly pink lashes, then her eyes opening and staring blankly up at me. She didn’t look like she could actually see me or, if she could, like she actually knew what she was seeing. That was fine by me. What mattered was that her eyes were open and she was at least somewhat alert; she wasn’t gone.

She blinked, eyes focusing, then blinked again, looking past me to Tybalt and Acacia. Her mouth moved. No sound came out.

I sighed, suddenly unutterably weary. “Let me guess,” I said. “What am I doing here? How did I get here? And then probably something kinda mean.”

“No time for that,” Luna rasped. “October, where is my daughter?”

I looked at her, not flinching, and said the cruelest thing I possibly could:

“I don’t know.”

TEN

LUNA CLOSED HER EYES after my answer, going very, very still. I looked back to Acacia, then slowly straightened.

“What happened?”

“Luna arrived with Rayseline, who was asleep and wouldn’t wake,” said Acacia. “I was helping the both of them to my guest quarters when there was a commotion from outside. I went to see who it was—sometimes the children get restless and need to be consoled before they can calm themselves again. I’m the closest thing they have left to a parent or older relation, and I try to take care of them.”

It was odd, having a ravaged, bloody figure speaking so calmly about children and duty; she looked like she should be screaming, and instead she was answering me in a measured tone, seeming utterly unbothered.

“But when I stepped through the gap in the wall, I was immediately beset by warriors, all armed with sword and axe, bronze tipped in iron. There was no silver, or my wounds would be nearer by far to mortal. They hurt me direly, but they could not kill me with what they brought to bear.”

“They jumped you?” In her own skerry?

Acacia nodded. “The attack was sudden and without mercy. I had no time to retaliate, although I called for the trees as I was falling, and they answered.”

I looked around, noticing for the first time how close the forest was to the foundations of the building; it had been in motion at some point recently, roots churning the ground as they came to the defense of their mother. Acacia might not be the most powerful of the Firstborn, but she was still terrifying in her own ways when someone gave her a good reason to be.

“But they didn’t reach you in time.”

“Not the majority of them. Trees aren’t fast, you see; it’s why they needed the Dryads, who could be swift in their place. But there are no Dryads here. They never favored my husband, and preferred the sunlit lands. The quickest of the trees reached my attackers and waded into the fray, swinging their limbs and lashing their roots, and the fools who had come to take me fled, driven back by a wall of wood.”

“I see,” I said.

Acacia’s face hardened. “But they fooled me even so. While I collapsed from loss of blood, they circled around my protectors and forced their way inside, assaulting my daughter and stealing away my grandchild. Where they took her, I may never know.”

“And she was already unconscious, so she wasn’t able to fight back,” I said. Normally, that might be considered a good thing; if someone is going to be abducted—which is generally the case when you’re talking about one person versus what sounded like an entire organized team—the less they fight, the less likely they are to be severely injured. This is a lesson I’ve learned multiple times, but have never been able to quite internalize, as I continue to fight until I’m put down hard enough to make me stop.

Raysel didn’t heal like I do. I was glad it was a lesson she didn’t have to learn. Except …

“And if she didn’t fight back, there will be no blood trail for us to follow,” said Tybalt grimly concluding my thought.

I nodded. “Right. Acacia? How long is it going to take you to put yourself back together?” I was willing to bleed for Luna, who had been a friend and ally much longer than she had been an enemy. But I wasn’t willing to hand my blood to a Firstborn daughter of Titania, no matter how much I normally liked her.

“I’ll take root among the trees for some eight hours or so, and when I shake the bark away, I should be restored to what I once was,” she said. Raising one hand, she touched the scar on her face. “This took only because Michael gave it to me with an iron blade and prevented me from rooting myself until my skin had begun to attempt closing on its own accord and time. I’ll be fine when I wake up.”

“And Luna?”

Acacia’s face twisted in the first thing I’d seen that truly reminded me of motherly concern. “My child is … not so durable as I,” she said, after a long and weighted pause. “She may have trouble recovering. But then, you have given her the gift of your blood, and she knows well the ways of borrowing. She may be perfectly well, and in less time than either you or I would count as possible. The only way of knowing is to wait.”

I looked to my candle. “I don’t know that we can wait for you to wake up.”