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“No. Gwydion doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, and neither did that last healer.”
I didn’t mention the fact that the moment either of them had tried to so much as examine the woman, I’d spun into a panic that I couldn’t have explained if my life depended on it. I didn’t want anyone touching her, but the Source only knew why.
Aine didn’t look at me. “It’s only been a day, Sci.”
I ground my teeth. Where she said “only” as if it were nothing, I viewed the last day as the longest of my immortal existence. “Every moment matters if there are afflicted in the capital. I sent for a second healer.”
“Has it occurred to you that she’s simply sleeping? Humans do tire easily.”
“This isn’t sleep. It’s closer to death.”
She hummed. “Have you tried speaking to Bael?”
“Yes,” I grunted, my voice sounding bitter to my own ears. “Pointless, as always. You?”
She chuckled softly, sparing me a sympathetic look. “Yes. I believe our mother even tried to speak with him, if you can believe that. I saw her go downstairs earlier with all her ladies in tow.”
I blinked, surprised. “Don’t tell me that the threat of the afflicted was enough to force Raewyn to actuallydosomething?”
Aine sniffed. “Someone should call a bard to record the momentous occasion.”
“I’ll have the legend etched in stone,” I replied dryly. “But in all truth, did he speak to her?”
She looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. You know how difficult he is. Like conversing with a particularly angry wall.”
I snorted a laugh for her benefit, but the disappointment that stabbed at me was potent if unreasonable. Bael had never been any help to us in that form before; there was no reason to think that would change now.
I got to my feet and crossed to the other side of the bed, looking down at Lonnie from another angle. Quill hopped off the windowsill and fluttered over to land on the foot of her bed, looking up at me. It was likely a testament to how serious the situation was that Aine didn’t threaten my bird, whom she hated more than the King of Underneath himself.
“Ah, well,” I said. “I don’t know if we could have expected much else from Raewyn.”
“Quite,” Aine agreed. “In fact, I believe the experience was enough to send her fleeing the capital altogether. That’s actually what I came to tell you: my parents have absconded to Overcast for a holiday, with no clear indication of returning.”
I rolled my eyes. Not that Raewyn mattered much, but Auberon was somewhat helpful when he felt like it.Somewhat.“They didn’t happen to do me any favors and bring the children with them, did they?”
“Of course not,” Aine sighed.
Perfect.
The longer I spent with my family, the more I was reminded why I’d elected to spend nearly my entire life surrounded by rebels and afflicted rather than cloistered in a luxury castle. Most would view the battlefields as the more odious option, but one hour in the obsidian would disabuse any such fallacy.
“Have you considered visiting the dungeon?” Aine asked, evidently following her own train of thought.
I stiffened, choosing my words carefully. “I would if I could.”
I watched Aine’s shoulders tense as if my one clumsy answer alone had shifted her entire mood. She let out a harsh laugh. “Now I understand why you haven’t been gloating that you were right about the attack: you’ve already fucked this up, haven’t you?”
“I wouldn’t gloat anyway. There’s nothing amusing about this.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t deflect.”
I had no good answer for her, but still, I gave her a quick explanation of my bargain with Ambrose and how I’d agreed to release him in exchange for information about our grandmother’s final prophecy.
“Grandmother isn’t here to ask further questions,” I muttered. “Ambrose has always been the next best thing.”
“Is he?” She gave me an almost pitying look. “You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten everything he’s done.”
“Never,” I growled. “But I had no choice.”
