sideways and tried to bite. Grabbing the reins, Killian broke into a run, trusting Lydia had the wherewithal to hold on.
He sprinted through the streets, knowing the route Bercola would take, and it didn’t take long until he caught sight of the group, Malahi surrounded by her guards.
They whirled at the sound of hooves, and ignoring Bercola’s admonition that she keep running, Lena sprinted toward him. “Gwen!”
“She’s alive,” Killian replied. “We’ll send for a healer as soon as we reach the palace, though the temple will be strapped dealing with that mess.”
“Take her straight there,” Malahi said. “Bercola and the others will remain with me.”
“My priority is getting you back to safety,” he snapped. “Your decision put us in this mess, Malahi, so for once, maybe you could refrain from arguing.”
Color leached from the Princess’s skin; then her eyes flicked to Lydia. “You take her, then. You look in need of a healer yourself.”
Killian clenched his teeth. The last place he wanted Lydia going was Hegeria’s temple, but he had no argument to stand upon for it being someone else. And as it was, he could see Lydia’s wounds were slowly beginning to heal, the slice across her temple no longer bleeding. Without the excuse of a healer having seen to her, someone was bound to ask questions. He had to trust that Lydia was clever enough to see this through.
“Take Gwen to the temple,” he said. He flipped the reins over his horse’s head, holding the stallion steady until she had him in hand. “Tell the healers Her Highness sent you. When you’re through, head back to the barracks. One of the other girls can bring the horse back to the palace.”
Lydia nodded, and he gave Surly a slap on the haunches, watching as the stallion cantered up the street, taking her out of his reach to protect.
And praying he wouldn’t have cause to regret not going with her.
34
LYDIA
Foul-tempered as the stallion was, he was well trained, and despite being only a middling rider, Lydia managed to guide him to the temple while keeping Gwen balanced in front of her.
The other girl was hurt badly, and in the few moments she gained consciousness she sobbed in pain, the sound tearing at Lydia’s heart.
You could help her, a voice whispered inside her head. You could take away her pain.
But at what cost?
It was that question that stilled her hand, that caused her to take care that she did not touch Gwen’s exposed skin. That caused her to dig in her heels, urging the stallion to greater speed.
There were already dozens of wounded making their way into the god circle, and those helping them eyed Killian’s horse warily. But it was not their eyes that Lydia felt most keenly. Turning her head skyward, she regarded the seven stone towers looming above, all of them carved with reliefs to resemble the gods, with the exception of the tower of black stone, which possessed only the suggestion of eyes.
Her skin crawled as she passed into the circle, her heart catching as the towers seemed to bend forward, faces coming closer to peer at her intently, the wind whispering between them as though they spoke to one another. Then she blinked, and they were once more inanimate structures. Stone carved by the hands of mortals.
Hegeria’s temple was no taller than the rest, but its base was broader than the others, the size necessary given the number of individuals the goddess marked. Riding right up to the open doors, Lydia called out, “I’m here by order of Her Royal Highness, Princess Malahi.”
Only then did she see the dozens of injured laid out in rows, individuals in white robes moving among them carrying cases of bandages and other supplies. She watched with fascination as a girl, who could not have been more than thirteen, reached inside a man’s opened guts, deep wrinkles forming around her eyes, her hair turning to grey. But the concentration on her face never faltered as she drew the skin of his belly together, sealing it but stopping before the wound was fully healed. Then she picked up a length of catgut and a needle and without pause began to stitch the deep slice in his leg
“Sent by Malahi, you say?”
Lydia jerked her attention away from the surgery to find a thin old man with his hand resting on the horse’s neck, his white robes stained with blood. “Yes, Gwen was hurt in the riot.”