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“Oh, that,” he said nonchalantly, as if it were a scrape.
Sophie sighed. “Sit down you idiot. I’ll dress it.”
Wren suppressed a small laugh at her friend’s admonishment of the prince. Malaki did not argue with her. He only moved to the chair, sat, and removed the stained shirt. Wren inhaled sharply and turned away. When she dared to look back, Malaki was sporting a small satisfied smile.
“It’s only a small cut, Wren, I’ll be fine.”
Sophie returned carrying water and bandages from the wash room and set them on the table. “It’s hardly small, and I was not concerned about your well-being.” Wren was grateful for the control her voice had since the truth was it was not the wound that had affected her. There most certainly was something wrong with her.
As Sophie cleaned and dressed the wound, she murmured something to Malaki. He turned towards her then, caution in his blue eyes. “Do you want me to tell you what happened last night?” The words were not commanding, and she realized then that he would respect her wishes no matter what he thought she should do.
Wren paced a few times and studied her wrist. She stopped and turned towards him. “Yes.”
He gestured to the seat across from him and she hesitantly took it. “I could hear you screaming from in here, so I retrieved the key and opened the door. You were in the bed thrashing, sweating, and I could go my whole life and never hear that sound again.” His voice was thick with emotion and Wren found she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I woke you up, and when you saw me, you lost it. I understand. Of course, I understand.” He ran his good hand through his hair that had come undone, clearly unsure. “You told me to get out, and when I said I wouldn’t leave you, you threw a vase at me.”
Wren almost laughed at that, but didn’t when she saw there was no humor in his face. He was nervous. Why would he be nervous? He can’t be surprised she would throw a vase at him, he was a very aggravating person.
“Wren. You didn’t throw it with your hands.” His voice was quiet.
Wren laughed. “Well, I don’t suppose I threw it with my feet. You must have been still half asleep.”
His face held no humor. “I was awake when this all happened, and you threw it at me, but you didn’t touch it, Wren. It flew at me.”
Wren snorted, feeling uncomfortable with both his and Sophie’s gazes on her. “You are being ridiculous.”
He pulled his half-bandaged arm free from Sophie and leaned towards her. “I swear on my mother’s grave, Wren, I am not lying to you now.”
Wren recoiled at the intensity in his gaze and what his words meant. “I am not a witch.” She was surprised by the steadfastness of her voice.
Malaki leaned back in his chair then and Sophie continued bandaging his arm, looking as if she were trying to riddle a puzzle.
“No, I don’t think that you are.” His voice was so casual and Wren wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe the punishment for witches was different here when she remembered that they had sorcerers and what Sophie had told her about magic.
“There are sorcerers here, magic is not unusual. Perhaps it was something else and you are mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken.” He was still leaning back in the chair and Sophie moved back admiring her work on his arm.
“Wren, I told you it is rare even among people born here. You are not even from here, and you already told me your world doesn’t have magic.” She turned to Malaki. “This is why your father and the Bishop brought her here.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t make sense, though. The other women. Would this have happened to them as well?”
At the name of Cara’s murderer she felt her body fill with familiar grief coated with anger. How casually they all talked about the man who had taken away her best friend.
“I don’t know, but we need to figure it out and we need to keep your father and the Bishop from finding out what has happened. That means your brother, too, Kai.”
“You think I don’t realize that, Sophie!” His voice shook with a barely concealed temper. He took a deep breath and waved a placating hand at Sophie, remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Soph. I know, I know what you are saying. It’s only, they will likely know to watch for this. I don’t know how to conceal her wrist. If her sleeve raises even a little, they will see.” He sounded frustrated and Wren felt herself grateful that he would try to help her regardless of his motivation.
Sophie nodded. “That’s easy, I’ll have all her dresses made to have the sleeve come to a point and wrap around her middle finger, that way it will hold no matter how she moves.”
“What if they get suspicious? It’ll be obvious we are trying to hide something,” Malaki countered.
“No, I’ll start spreading word around the court that you prefer that style and the idiots will all line up to have it done by tomorrow’s dinner. We will have hers done after that so it seems like she’s only following court fashion.”
He considered it. “Clever, Soph. That should work. I have been trying to poke around my father trying to gather any information why he called her here, but he won’t give up on anything. When he and the Bishop meet, it is in seclusion. I cannot even bribe the guards to overhear them, they take no chances.”
Wren felt a flash of surprise that he had already put in such effort, but then remembered that she was as much his prison as he was hers.
“Well, then, we just take it one step at a time. We will figure out something.” Sophie tried to make her words hopeful.
