His Highness’s eyes were wide, unfocused, staring into nothing. His mouth, slightly open; he was taking little gasping sips of air, and no more.
“Your Highness?” Evemer whispered. No response. Shit. “You’re in shock.”
Kadou’s eyes focused a little then, drifting to Evemer’s face. If there had been enough light to see colors, Evemer was sure his face would have been ash-pale. But even by starlight, he could see the tears standing in Kadou’s eyes.
Evemer swallowed hard, picked up his dagger and sheathed it, then steered Kadou out of the alley with one arm around his back. “Home now,” he said firmly. “Before anyone finds us and the bodies.”
Kadou was crying outright now, still shuddering violently, though he was eerily silent. Evemer shoved aside the lightning and half dragged Kadou down the street.
Kadou had returned to the carriage staggering drunk enough times that the kahyalar did not leap into dismay and panic at the state of him. Evemer bundled him in, hesitated, and climbed in after him rather than going up to sit with the driver.
His Highness shuddered all the way back up the Palace Road, occasionally making soft noises as if the creaks of the carriage and the occasional rough jolt were torture to him, too much to be borne.
Evemer had no idea what to do about it.
He took off the pine-green kaftan that Kadou made him wear over his uniform, folded it neatly, and placed it next to Kadou on the seat, in case he was cold and wanted to use it.
Kadou remained crammed into the corner in a little ball, his hands clutched to his chest, his eyes closed, his breath stuttering. He did not reach for the kaftan. Evemer tried to think of something else to do that might be helpful.
He tried reciting the “Admonishments to the Would-Be Righteous Man” chapter from Beydamur’sTen Pillars of War,which was all about prescriptions for correct behavior and which Evemer had found very comforting on those occasions that he found himself troubled or unprepared—though as the third Admonishment was “Be never unprepared for any demand or need or occurrence,” that had not happened frequently.
Concerningly, this did not seem to help Kadou either, and any calmness or grounding that Evemer had gained by the recitation was swept away once more by the sight of his lord shuddering so hard that his bones must have been rattling. Could it be an epileptic fit, rather than shock as he’d thought? He held himself tense and poised to leap across the carriage to catch Kadou if he fell.
He had no idea how he managed it, but he got Kadou out of the carriage as near as it could come to his apartments in the Gold Court, across the formal gardens, and, blessedly, to the doors of his own chamber.
Yasemin, the kahya at the door, took one look at them, went wide-eyed and pale, and said as she opened the door for them, “I’ll send for the doctor.”
“No,” said Evemer. “The commander.” He half dragged Kadou inside and settled him on the couch next to the fire. Kadou collapsed onto the cushions like a cut flower. Evemer placed the folded green kaftan next to him again.
He second-guessed himself the whole time that he was waiting for Eozena—should he have allowed Yasemin to send for a doctor as well? But Kadou didn’t seem to be hurt, and doctors couldn’t treat shock. Nor epilepsy, if it was that—but Kadou wasn’t frothing at the mouth, and he’d been able to keep his feet on the walk from the carriage . . .
Ah—clutching Evemer’s arm hard enough that his nails had dug in through Evemer’s uniform. That was how he’d managed getting Kadou across the gardens. His Highness’s grip had been astoundingly strong, considering how watery his knees seemed to be.
Evemer hovered around the couch, not sure if he should—or whether he ought to—the commander was coming. She would tell him what to do. In the light of the fire, Evemer saw suddenly that Kadou’s hands were splashed with dark blood, and more was spattered and smeared on his face and clothes—Evemer was confounded as to how he could have missed that. Not seeing it in the dark was one thing, but . . . He must be in shock too.
The blood certainly explained Yasemin’s reaction.
He should—he should clean His Highness’s face and hands.
He went for the ewer and basin and clean cloths. When he came back and knelt by the divan, Kadou had his eyes scrunched tight, still shivering. Evemer dampened one of the cloths and wiped at the smears on his lord’s face.
Kadou flinched away with a sharp sound, the tiniest pleading whimper of “No.”
“You’re—not clean.” He didn’t want to saybloody. He dipped the cloth in the water again and noticed suddenly that it was icy cold. Ah. That was poor form on his part.
He moved the water close to the fire, swirling it in the polished brass basin to at least take the chill off it. The commander arrived just as the water came above lukewarm. The instant she clapped her eyes on Kadou, she froze. “What happened?” she demanded. She sprang forward, kneeling close to him. “What happened?”
“Not Evemer’s fault,” Kadou stuttered between desperate, juddering breaths.
“Are you hurt?” Eozena took his hands in her own.
“Not that I could tell,” Evemer said. Still kneeling, he moved the basin close again and wet a new cloth. Kadou didn’t move or reach out for it, so Evemer took Kadou’s hands from Eozena, one at a time, wiping the blood from them. The water in the bowl was rust-cloudy by the time he’d finished—new water from the ewer warming on the hearth, then, and a new cloth for cleaning Kadou’s face.
The warm touch of the wet cloth against his cheek didn’t make him flinch this time, and in fact it seemed to bring Kadou back to himself, at least a little. He blinked hard, took several shuddering breaths. “There you have it,” he whispered. “I told you, didn’t I?”
“Your Highness?” Eozena spoke quietly.
Kadou’s ocean-dark eyes turned to Evemer. “I told you they’ve been teaching me to kill people since I was little. Didn’t I say so?”