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“Consul,” that was Louis-Cesare, his voice sharp. “A moment.”
Hassani stopped talking.
I stared blindly past his fucking head at the light show outside, which was apparently coming to an end. The colors were rapidly changing and lasers were flinging everywhere, as if the age-old monuments had stumbled into a disco. They strobed the room, bright enough to hurt the eyes, but I stared at them blindly for a moment anyway, before finally looking at Hassani.
And for once, I didn’t give a shit what was on my face.
“Then tell me this,” I rasped. “If she was so powerful, how did Vlad the bitch Tepes manage to kill her? He staked her to death, left her writhing on a pole for hours. I thought she’d died when her village burned, but I later found out—”
I stopped and shuddered all over. Louis-Cesare got up, but I waved him off. I didn’t like to think about what had happened, even after so long, didn’t like to face how she must have suffered.
But I was going to, because I wanted a goddamned answer!
“If she was some demigod super soldier, then how in the hell—”
“She was likely not a demigod,” Hassani said, his voice low, slow and non-threatening. For some reason, that made me e
ven angrier. Louis-Cesare got up and moved between us. I stared at him, and then almost laughed.
Even for me, the last twenty-four hours had been hell. I was exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally. What the fuck did he think I was going to do to a consul?
And then I realized what he thought.
I stared at him. “You think I’m a monster.”
“Dory, no—”
“You do! You think—you believe him. You believe him! You think I’m like that—that hideous—that—that—” I cut off, not being able to breathe, and a second later, his arms were around me. I was furious, but I didn’t even struggle. It hit me, all at once: losing Dorina, fighting all day, yet not being one step closer to getting her back, Hassani’s lies, my mother—
I sank to my knees, gasping for air, and suddenly the lights all cut out.
I thought for a second that I was about to pass out, then I realized—the damned light show had just ended. I faintly heard clapping from somewhere; the party I assumed. Glad someone was having a good time.
And then Maha was there, kneeling by my other side. Hassani must have summoned her, and was probably regretting it, I thought vaguely, as her eyes flashed at the two men. “What happened?”
“She became upset,” Louis-Cesare said.
“And why did she become upset? What did you say to her?”
“It was more what I said,” Hassani admitted, causing his Child to whirl around. “I am sorry, my dear. It seems I am losing my touch.”
Maha started to say something, then bit her lip. “Whatever it was, it can wait. She needs sleep—”
“I slept most of the afternoon,” I said, a little breathlessly. But I was feeling better—a lot better. Her touch was goddamned magic.
“You were sedated most of the afternoon,” she corrected. “You need natural sleep in order to heal.”
“I’m well enough,” I said, trying to push her off so I could stand.
“You are not!” It was snapped and it was loud. All three of us stopped to look at her.
Maha had struck me as the type who was usually cool, calm, and peaceful. A soothing presence for her patients and an overall kindhearted person. She wasn’t looking so kindhearted right now.
“You are going to sleep,” she told me furiously. “Right now. As for the two of you—”
And at least I got this much, I thought, watching two first-level masters, one a consul and one who could have been had he wanted to try and salvage Antony’s wreck of a court, shrink in on themselves, one might almost say cower, before a pissed off woman.
Maybe we did have power, after all, I thought dizzily. But I never got a chance to find out what she told them. Because her hand slid onto my shoulder again, and this time—
