“Aye. Always.” There’s no waver in her voice. “Though this secret, we shall keep between us for as long as possible. I will enlighten them to Her Highness’s terrible bout of amnesia”—she cuts a glare my way—“but as far as anything else, Jarek and the rest must not know.”
Which means she doesn’t completely trust her second-in-command either.
That’s reassuring.
Zander nods, seemingly appeased by her answer. “You can release her now, Gesine. I think she has seen reason.”
Another beat passes, and then Abarrane pulls herself up from the stump.
Beside me, Elisaf shifts his weight as if expecting her to pounce.
But she only stretches her leg out in front of her, testing it. “That was much faster than Wendeline.”
“Wendeline knows how to heal, but she is not a healer. I am one such, and I am far more powerful.” It’s a simple statement and likely true, given that Wendeline would be hunched over with that one repair. Yet within those words, I sense a subtle warning to Abarrane, maybe to Zander. Do not underestimate her.
Abarrane unfastens the tourniquet and tosses it to a corner with a sigh. “When do you wish to leave, Your Highness?”
“At first light,” Zander confirms. “Before Atticus has time to create obstacles for us.”
“That might be a challenge. As you have seen, many of my warriors are grievously injured.”
“Gesine will heal the worst of them tonight.”
Abarrane opens her mouth—to object, likely.
“In that, we need your help to convince them it is in the best interests of Islor.” Zander holds an arm toward the tent door, palm upturned. A signal.
Gesine glances at me once before moving swiftly out of the tent.
I know stomach slashes and gouged eyes take priority over my questions about my future, and yet my frustration surges all the same.
With one last lingering look my way, Abarrane marches for the door. She stalls at Zander’s side and quietly—but not quietly enough—says, “Please tell me it isn’t your heart that continues to stay your blade.”
“My heart is no longer a hostage in Aoife’s scheme. We cannot win this war without the key caster. She is too useful to us alive.”
He’s not even using my name now.
He might as well have driven a dagger into my chest.
I meet Zander’s gaze. He holds it for mere seconds before shifting his focus to the ground. Can he feel this yawning emptiness he’s just created in me? Does he care? “Elisaf will show you to your tent. You can bathe in the river if you wish.”
I grit my teeth, willing my heart to harden and my words to sound unbothered. “With an audience of warriors? I think I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself. Gesine will come to you when she is finished. Rest while you can. The next few days will be long.” He speaks to me now as if we’re strangers, as if we haven’t spent many nights entangled in each other’s bodies over the last weeks.
I watch his back as he strolls away, a sting burning my eyes.
“Come.” Elisaf gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.