into a courtyard I realized led into the kitchens. Calanthe had no slave gates, as Yekpehr did, but I couldn’t escape the unsettling parallel of entering Lia’s palace as we’d snuck into Anure’s: in disguise and through the doorways used by those who served. This time, however, I carried Lia’s body in rather than stealing her away.
Not her body. Lia is alive. Get that through your thick head.
Those short, horrifying hours of carrying Lia’s leaf-dry corpse through the halls of Yekpehr had left their mark on me. I jumped at every scrape of boot against stone, every click of doors as Ibolya opened and closed them. Even the click of Vesno’s claws on marble had me flinching.
With a quiet wave, Agatha went off in another direction, disappearing into the shadows. The rest of us followed Ibolya up some winding stairs, emerging into a side hallway that led to Lia’s rooms, the double doors closed and locked but unguarded. Ibolya produced a key to unlock the doors and stepped aside for us to enter. The lamps and candles leapt with flame, filling the rooms with golden light, and Ibolya hastily closed and locked the doors again. The windows usually open to Calanthe’s gentle weather were now tightly boarded against the storm, giving the normally airy rooms a claustrophobic staleness.
Ibolya assessed the unconscious Lia in my arms. “Should I summon Healer Jeaneth?” We both looked at Ambrose.
“What? Oh.” He frowned. “No. There’s not much of human healing to be done here, if you understand me.”
Of course, we didn’t understand, but Ibolya nodded anyway. “Perhaps some food and water for Her Highness, then? Though I hate to wake Her.”
“Her body can’t assimilate much yet,” Ambrose said, and fished something out of the pocket of his robe. He held up a glass vial of shimmering green liquid, then handed it to Ibolya. “Let Her Highness sleep until She wakes on Her own, then have Her drink this.”
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Stardust and moonbeams,” Ambrose answered, rolling his eyes. “She’s alive again, isn’t She? Trust me on this one.”
“Conrí.” Ibolya gestured for me to precede her. “If you would lay Her Highness on Her bed, I can help Her from there.”
I nodded to Vesno, obediently sitting at my heel. “Let’s go, boy.”
Released, the wolfhound sprang into enthusiastic action, proceeding to sniff every possible surface en route. I carried Lia into her—our—bedchamber. I hadn’t slept in the bed when I returned from Cradysica without her, and though it hadn’t been all that long, the room had a musty, unused quality. Possibly because the grand circle of windows overlooking the sea had also been boarded up. Ibolya, wrinkling her nose at the stale damp, muttered unhappily.
“At least the bed is dry,” I told her as I eased Lia onto it. I couldn’t get past the notion that she might break if I jostled her too roughly.
“Thank you, Conrí.” Ibolya began unfastening the ties of Lia’s cloak while I stood back awkwardly. The darker cloth parted over her thin shift—and the many stains on it showed clearly in the light. Blood, dirt, and other substances I couldn’t bear to think about.
“I can help with this,” Sondra said, shouldering past me. “Maybe you should step out, Conrí. Keep Ambrose company,” she added, giving me a jaundiced look. “You’re no lady’s maid.”
“Since when are you one?” I retorted, venting some of the frustration that had no other target.
She straightened. “Since I was the only one to tend Her these last days.”
“Oh. Right.” I was an idiot. “Sorry.”
“Just go away, Conrí.” She sounded unbearably weary. Sondra had been through hell, too, and had yet to sleep since we’d rescued her. “Give Her some privacy.”
I knew Lia’s body better than my own, but left without saying so. In the outer chambers, Ambrose had stepped out onto the small balcony where he’d married Lia and me. The rain still fell in torrents beyond its slight protection. Lightning stalked across the open ocean on flickering legs, distant thunder booming ominously.
Vesno came to me, nosing his muzzle under my hand, his drenched fur tangled. “This storm,” I said, “it seems unnatural.”
“Yes,” Ambrose mused. “A fascinating combination of Calanthe’s unraveling and bombardment by distant wizardry.”
“Like that huge wave.” When Ambrose only nodded thoughtfully, I tried again. “Lia settled that.”
“An effective use of her elemental magic, yes. And She calmed Calanthe somewhat, too—though that faltered once She fell unconscious again.” He tipped the staff at the storm, as if I hadn’t noticed it. “It’s a privilege to