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A gust of cool, fresh air washed over them—the smell of the sea and the city, the unmistakable feeling ofspacearound them. Someone ahead said Evemer’s name.
“Here,” said Melek. “Give him to us.”
Kadou’s grip on Evemer’s clothes must have been white-knuckled. It was certainly enough that his hands had begun to cramp, and they hurt more when Melek pried them off and swooped under Kadou’s arm, taking it across çir shoulders—someone else did the same on Kadou’s other side. Tadek. Kadou recognized the scent of him.
“Where’s he—” Kadou choked.
“Hush,” Tadek said. “He’s got to show us the way now, he’s not going far. We have you.”
“Zeliha?”
“Up ahead too. Bravest sultan anyone could ask for, eh? The princess too, she’s been sleeping the whole way, not a care in the world. Can you manage your feet, Highness?”
Kadou couldn’t, quite—Melek and Tadek weren’t as tall as Evemer, and even together they weren’t taking as much of his weight as Evemer had. He stumbled again and again, gritting his teeth now against the haze and feeling even more woozy and sick.
His arms ached from hanging off Tadek and Melek’s shoulders. His ribs ached from where Evemer had held him up. His legs were as steady as thick custard, but somehow Melek and Tadek cajoled him into walking, and they went along through the winding streets of Kasaba, along the foot of the cliff in the direction of the city wall.
“You all right, Tadek?” he heard Melek ask.
“Managing, just about,” Tadek said in a tight voice. “But cover for me when we get there, eh? How’s your arm?”
“Bad. But thank you for asking.”
Kadou tried to force his feet to work. He failed. “Sorry,” he said, or thought he said. His kahyalar didn’t reply.
And then all at once he was falling—no, being lowered—fabric under him. He opened his eyes. A ceiling above him. A room, around him. People moving in the near dark, lighting candles that stung his eyes, stoking the fire in the hearth. Low voices.
Tadek knelt next to him and got an arm under his shoulders, pulling him up and holding a cup to his lips. “Drink.”
When the water touched his tongue, Kadou realized he was thirstier than he could ever remember being and seized the cup, swallowing it down so fast it ached in his throat and chest. “More,” he croaked, but Melek was already bringing him another cup. He drank that too, a little slower.
“Give him here,” Melek murmured. “Go on.”
Kadou caught a glimpse of Melek’s arm as he was laid in çir lap. “Hurt?” he said blearily. He remembered now—çe had been injured in the fight. Had çe had any time to bandage it at all, or clean it out?
“Just a bad scratch, Highness.” It didn’t look it. Çir sleeve was wet to the cuff. “I’ll have a scar to show my friends and a good story.”
“Evemer?”
“Not even a chipped fingernail. And Tadek will be fine too,” Melek added in a strange voice.
Kadou struggled to sit up. “What?” He looked around. Where had Tadek gone? When had he gone? He’d just been here—
“No, no! Don’t worry about him.”
“What happened to Tadek?” Another shock of adrenaline was driving the haze back.
“He’ll be fine. He’s still on his feet, isn’t he? He got you here.”
“Where is he? Where did he go? Let me up!”
Melek hushed him, tried to tug him back down to lie in the cushions, but Kadou thrashed, suddenly swamped by panic. An instant later, Evemer was there too, holding him down. “My lord,” Evemer said in a steady voice that instantly made Kadou go still. “He will befine.”
“What happened?”
“Took a knife to the side,” Evemer said calmly. “He’s cleaning up. He would have already gone down if he were going to. Lie still.”
And then he was gone again, and Kadou curled up against Melek’s side, shivering. Melek petted his arm and back. “It’s all right. Everyone’s safe.”
