Silence. Anger. Something else in the mix. Worry? Fear?
She cursed him in Leontine, which had less of an effect when the words weren’t verbalized, although he did hear them through the namebond.
Ready?Severn asked. At Kaylin’s nod, he lashed out with his left foot and kicked the door. Whatever had preserved the hinge was gone; the door flew in.
Lightning flew out.
Kaylin took a risk. “Nightshade?”
The lightning wasn’t followed by any other attack. “Lord Kaylin?” Not Nightshade’s voice.
“Andellen? Is that you?”
“I have my lord with me; he is injured. He is unconscious.”
“The rest of the attackers?”
“Very dead. There were only two who made it through the door.”
Kaylin immediately swung round and rolled through the doorframe, coming up on her feet prepared to throw herself forward if necessary. Severn was less than a step behind.
Hope, however, leaped off her shoulder before he could become part of her somersault. He squawked very, very loudly, in august displeasure.
Nothing attacked. Kaylin saw another door—this one was open. Through it, she could see Andellen. He was bleeding but appeared to have all of his limbs; he’d taken a quarrel wound on his right shoulder.
His thigh was slashed, his hands slick with blood; shecouldn’t tell how much of it was his own. She moved toward him quickly, while Hope flapped around her head, squawking.
Andellen stepped aside before she could touch him. As he did, she could see Nightshade. His hand had a white-knuckled death grip onMeliannos, but that hand was still attached to the rest of him. She could see no visible wound, but he was unconscious.
Unconscious. He couldn’t do what Andellen had just done. He couldn’t avoid her touch. She hesitated.
Do not do it, Ynpharion snapped.
Why not? I already hold his name.
Ynpharion knew this but was outraged at her casual statement.You know very well why not. Are you a fool? The secrets of the powerful are not yours to know unless they are offered. Lord Nightshade is among the very powerful.
He might die if we don’t move him.
Silence. It was a longer silence, and there was heat in it, fear, even disagreement. Ynpharion was arguing with someone. Kaylin could guess who.
She wants me to save him.
She has not yet decided!
No—you haven’t decided. She wants me to save him.
She acknowledges the danger to you; it is the only reason she feels conflicted. She points out that you bear the mark of the Erenne. She says you understand the danger.
She did. Immortals didn’t want to be healed. Ynpharion hadn’t wanted to be healed. She’d forced herself into his life because she’d wanted to heal him. She’d taken his name. If she’d had any way of scrubbing that knowledge from her brain, she’d’ve done it in an instant.
She looked at Nightshade, kneeling by his side to gauge his level of injury. His limbs had not fallen in a way that implied they were broken—but back injuries weren’t always obvious either. If she wasn’t careful—if they weren’t careful—moving him could finish him off.
There was no wound that implied loss of blood would kill him. He was pale, but Barrani were often pale. They didn’t tan or burn the way normal people did, unless theywantedto.
She looked up at Andellen. “Do you know what caused this?”
Andellen was silent for a long beat.