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He almost falls to the ground when we pull up to the front entrance, but I catch him, muscles straining. I shout to the men on duty. “He needs the healer Serutha. Now! And I need to see Petrik.”
Only after the words are out of my mouth do I realize I have no authority. They probably don’t even know who I am. I was barely here before.
“At once, Mistress Ziva,” one of the guards says.
Then again, I’ve been wrong before. Maybe these are the men who were here last time and they have really good memories?
Or, more likely, Petrik has told them to keep an eye out for me.
A handful of attendants appear at the door with a pallet.They help Kellyn off the horse, before placing him atop the pallet and carrying him inside. I begin to follow, hating how familiar all of this feels.
“Ziva?” comes a voice from behind me.
“Petrik!” I shriek, throwing myself into him.
He startles backward, before his arms slowly come around me. He gives me two soft pats. “What’s the matter?” he asks. And then he catches sight of Kellyn. “What happened?”
“We were attacked on the journey back. He took an arrow through the arm. I had no way to get it out, and now it’s infected. The wound, I mean. Not the arrow, obviously.”
He takes in my filthy travel state with one sweep of his eyes. “The journey back from where?”
The attendants disappear with Kellyn around the corner, and I grab Petrik’s arm so we can follow as we talk.
“The journey back fromwhere?” I repeat incredulously. “Honestly, Petrik, did you not notice we were gone?”
“Well, you didn’t tell me you were going anywhere, now, did you? Who shot Kellyn?”
“Ravis’s men.”
“Ravis’s men are here?”
“Not yet, but his army is marching. I need to talk to Skiro! But first, what about Temra? I need to know. Tell me!”
My arms come to Petrik’s shoulders, forcing him to give me his full attention.
Petrik’s face falls, and a pained expression crosses his features.
I feel all the air leave me.
My feet lose their traction, and I fall to the ground right there in a heap. “No.”
I bury my face in my hands and weep.
I hear some shuffling about, and I think Petrik might bescuffing his shoes on the floor. I want to be angry with him for not showing more emotion, but I suppose he’s had well over a month to process Temra’s death. I’m just now hearing about it.
My cries only get louder as time goes on. For once, I don’t care who sees me or who hears me. I don’t have any space in my head to worry over what someone else will think about my display. I can’t think past the pain where my heart used to be.
“Ziva?”
I sniffle as I bolt upright, recognizing that voice.
It’s my sister. It’s Temra. Unless I’ve grown so hysterical that I’m now seeing things.
She looks different. Her face is so careful. Almost hesitant, like she doesn’t want to break me.
I throw myself at her, hug her to me as though I could crush her body into mine. Fuse us together so she can never be separated from me again. Temra’s arms come up, enfolding me with just as much force.
“I missed you,” she says.
