I nod. “The comte thinks he’s guilty of all the murders, and maybe even of his own daughter now. He has the whole guard looking for him.”
She glares at me. “And you brought himhere?”
“He’s innocent.” I cross my arms.
“I don’t care if he’s innocent,” she snaps. “I care if the city guard is going to burn down my house looking for him.”
“No one saw us or has reason to suspect this is where he went.”
“So you believe.” Athene turns back to Simon’s foot and stretches the fabric over it, wrapping with brisk efficiency.
Visions of what I may have brought upon the Selenae—for the second time in my life—rise in my mind. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Athene sighs. “I suppose there was no other place.”
There’s a long silence until Simon clears his throat. “I’ll leave if there’s any danger of my being discovered.”
“You won’t get far on this ankle,” my cousin mutters. She ties the ends to each other, then gestures to me. “Let’s see your hand and whatever Hadrian grease has been slathered on it.”
Simon frowns. “It’s balm. And I did not ‘slather’ it on.”
Athene snorts and slides the bandage over my fingers and off. “I’d be able to smell it from a block away on a sunny day.” She holds my hand up to the moonstone. “Dark of Night, Catrin! What happened?”
Now that I’m not fighting for my life or Simon’s, I’m too exhausted to tell the whole story. “I cut it on glass.”
“She needs sutures,” Simon adds. “Can you do that?”
“Sew it shut?” Athene twists her face in disgust. “Not unless she wants to look like our uncle the walking tapestry.”
She pulls a clean scrap of silk from a pocket in her shirt and begins wiping the oily balm out of the cut. “What else did this Hadrian do in his bungling efforts?”
My face heats in his defense. “He put pure alcohol in the cuts. It burned worse than a branding iron.”
“Really?” Athene glances at him. “That was actually good. Your Simon is forgiven.”
The use of his name counters the sarcasm of her praise. She finishes cleaning the wounds and lays three round bloodstones across my palm before wrapping them down with clean gauze. “This will take six hours at least,” she says.
I close my fingers around the stones, baffled that my sense of touch is only enhanced in a small area. “Don’t they work the same as moonstones?” I ask. “I just feel it in my hand.”
Athene puts everything away. “You touch on something we don’t quite understand. Bloodstones release intense magick, but something about their veins of iron keeps it within a small radius. Our ancestors called the propertymaegnetis, which is to hold magick closely.”
“That sounds like lodestone,” says Simon, and Athene looks at him in pleasant surprise. “I don’t believe in magick, but we had lodestones in Mesanus that could hold iron nails close and change their orientation without touching them. Some physicians think they can be used to realign the thoughts of a mad person, if applied correctly around the head.”
My cousin nods. “Yes, they are the same—your Hadrian word comes from ours. I have doubts about bloodstones curing madness, however. As for magick, that’s something I will let Catrin explain.” She bends down and props Simon’s twisted ankle on her cushioned stool, so it’s higher than it would be on the cot. “Keep this raised for the next hour or so. And you”—she turns her attention on me—“you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then you should lie down, too,” she says. “If trouble is coming, you’ll face it better with some rest.”
“I will,” I promise. “But I need to talk to Simon first.”
Athene yawns as she turns to leave. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t wake me before noon unless the house is on fire.”
I drag another stool next to the cot and sit down. Simon is silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about Juliane,” I whisper.
He takes a shaky breath and blinks like he’s holding back tears. “I failed her,” he says. “I failed her like I failed my father. I should’ve let myself be arrested.”
“Simon, you didn’t fail her, just like I didn’t fail the workers at the Sanctum.” I reach into my sleeve and pull out a thin braid of hair which I press into his hand. “I found this wrapped around Juliane’s wrist.”