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I nodded, stepping back. The gancanagh looked as if he’d died in his sleep, the wound on his chest gone, the blood wiped away. I kicked the ruined shirt under his bed.
“Well then.” Ankou straightened as I turned, resting a hand on his cusith’s head as it appeared beside him and sniffed the air with interest. “A pleasure as always, King Lonan.”
I gave him a tiny smile. “Yes.”
Then he was gone. I closed the bedroom door behind me and made my way back downstairs. The village was still utterly silent as I stepped outside and pinned the notice to the door, then locked it and pocketed the key.
The sky was beginning to lighten. My arm stung as the cool and slightly damp air crept under the tear in my sleeve. I sighed, clamping my hand around the wound to slow the bleeding as I turned to start walking back to the palace.
“King Lonan.”
Stiffening, I slowly turned to see Belial standing a short distance away, a small basket dangling from one hand. Making sure my face was blank, I gave him a clipped nod. “Belial.”
His eyes drifted down to my arm. “Are you injured?”
I cleared my throat. “Just a minor… stab wound.”
“I’d be happy to treat it.”
With a sigh, my shoulders sagged. I remembered the pain of Belial’s form of treatment acutely, but it was the fastest way to heal a wound. I didn’t want Ash to panic if he saw me with a long, fresh slice in my arm when we met at the Midsith.
“I’d appreciate that,” I said evenly, walking over to meet him. As we began heading back down the road, I side-eyed him. “You’re out quite early. Or late.”
Unfazed by my appearance in the village or my fresh wound, Belial lifted the basket in his hand. It was filled with small, dark purple flowers. “There is a type of very toxic flower that only blooms during these hours. It’s best to pick it at this time so the stamen is easy to reach.”
“Ah.”
In silence, we made our way to Belial’s house. He unlocked the door and stepped back so I could head inside. I already knew where to go, and he followed me into his apothecary chamber at the back of the house, setting his basket down on the sideboard.
“Let’s see this stab wound then,” he said with no inflection. My mouth twitched as I took a seat and rolled up my sleeve.
Belial bent over my arm, inspecting it closely, but after a few seconds he straightened. “No need to treat it. It’s already healing.”
“What?” I looked down quickly, going still when I saw that the wound had already stopped bleeding and looked shallower. “But it was very deep—”
“You’re king now, aren’t you?” Belial shrugged and turned for the door. “Not quite so easy to maim anymore. Drink?”
“I—Alright.” Somehow, I’d forgotten that aspect of becoming king. I was almost impossible to kill now.
What a strange thought.
Belial returned and held out a cup. I took it and sniffed, my eye twitching from the overpowering scent of alcohol.
“Whisky.” He sat back in the other chair with a sigh.
Hesitantly, I took a sip. Gillie loved whisky, but I’d never tried it. I almost coughed at first, but as the liquid slid over my tongue, it grew smooth and mellow. I found myself relaxing, but I knew that was more to do with knowing that the gancanagh was gone. He could never harm Ash.
“I just killed the gancanagh,” I heard myself say. Strangely, Belial had always calmed me. Perhaps because I knew how little he cared about court politics.
He went still, his own cup raised halfway to his mouth, then nodded. “Caom?”
“Yes.” I focused on him. “Were you close with him?”
His face did something complicated as he took a sip of his drink. “Not overly. I used to… wish to be close to him. But he wasn’t at all interested. Until he wanted something from me.”
“What did he want from you?”
A muscle in Belial’s cheek twitched, but he managed to keep his face expressionless. “Coin. He told me he’d made an… an unsavoury bet with the reynards—”
