“I really think you should change,” Mandoran said, his tone far more soothing than Annarion could manage right now. “You don’t know what caused the Erenne mark to bleed—and you won’t know if it won’t start again while you’re entertaining your guests.”
“Start again? I don’t know if it’s going to stop in time.”
“Have you tried to heal it?”
This was a perfectly reasonable question. Unfortunately, the answer was no. Kaylin didn’t consciously heal herself; the Marks did that. Small nicks, scratches, bruises—they didn’t persist in her daily life. She didn’t even think about them beyond a curse word or two. But the bleeding itself, the Erenne mark, seemed immune to the power of these Marks.
“I do not advise you to make the attempt now,” Helen said, her tone unusually severe. “It appears that An’Tellarus has arrived unfashionably early.”
“She probably let Yvonne choose,” Kaylin said, pressing the towel more firmly against her cheek.
Hope squawked.
“Sure—you go downstairs and say hello while I try to stop bleeding.” To her surprise, he pushed himself off her shoulder, gliding his way to the closed door. The door opened to allow him to leave.
Her cheek still hurt. Even pressing the towel against it, she felt like her skin was being abraded. Was it because she was standing in such close proximity to Nightshade? Was it because he was trying to somehow communicate?
She placed the back of her free hand on his forehead. “He’s feverish,” she told Annarion—who probably knew it already.
Annarion frowned. As Kaylin lifted her hand, he replaced it with his own. “He’s not. Not when I touch him.”
This wasn’t the confirmation either of the two expected. “Mandoran, you check.”
“Sedarias is screaming in my ear,” Mandoran replied. “Yvonne isn’t at the door yet, but she’s walking toward it.” He did, however, place a hand on Nightshade’s brow. “I’m with Annarion. He’s not feverish to my touch.” He then did what Annarion hadn’t: he placed a hand on Kaylin’s forehead. “You’re hot.”
Great.
“Barrani don’t catch mortal illnesses, right?”
“Not usually, no.”
“Good. I don’tfeelfeverish. And if I’m hot, Nightshade should feel cooler to the touch, shouldn’t he?”
“Why are you expecting things to be remotely sensible right now? To both of us, Nightshade feels normal—for a person in a coma. To you, he feels feverish. To us, you feel feverish,andyou have important guests. And your cheek is bleeding.”
Mandoran cursed—he was like Terrano; he’d adopted the Hawks’ choice language. He usually avoided using it when Helen’s Avatar was in the room—but Helen could hear it all anyway. He definitely avoided cursing when Mrs. Erickson could hear him, and that was probably the most important thing to Helen.
“Things are never straightforward when you get involved.”
“Look—I didn’t ask for this stupid mark. Or these stupid Marks. Or even this dress. I didn’t ask for this heavy ring, either. I’m not involved because I’m like Terrano—I’m not just tripping over things and picking them up and sayingshiny.”
“I never said you were—but you are like Terrano. You just cause chaos wherever you go. It’s not alwaysbadchaos. But it’s almost never predictable. If you’re asking—and you aren’t—the fact that you feel feverish to us and Nightshade feels feverish to you while you’re wearing that dress—which you did choose, by the way—is significant. But none of us knows how.
“Serralyn thinks the fact that you can’t stop the Erenne mark from bleeding is significant, and possibly in a good way—for Nightshade, not you. But you’ve checked in on him, he isn’t waking up, and Yvonne is at the front door. Give me that towel.” He held out a hand.
Kaylin dropped the towel across his palm.
He grimaced. “Your cheek isn’t bleeding at the moment—itisred. Just—hold on a second.” He ran off again, and came back with a smaller towel and a basin with water in it. His hands were gentle as he carefully sponged blood off her face. “I wish you could do something about that mark.”
“Why? An’Tellarus has already seen it, and she didn’t ask about it or even comment on it. Yvonne’s seen it, as well.”
“I really wish we’d thought of concealing it before you went to visit the Consort.”
Mandoran was probably right, but it’s not like he’d told her to hide it, either. Then again, no one could have predicted Yvonne and An’Tellarus.
“She doesn’t know Nightshade is here, does she?”
Annarion rolled his eyes. “That possibility only just occurred to younow?Go downstairs. I’ll be here, and Fallessian will join me after Mrs. Erickson says her hellos to the guests. Terrano will be wherever Terrano wants to be, but in theory, he’s going to be in the room with you. Unseen,” he added, as if that were necessary.