alarmed. She will be well. She is just healing.”
Isa swallowed drily. “She’s unconscious?”
Anali’s gaze flicked to Aketo, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You didn’t tell her.”
Aketo shrugged. He’d been unusually quiet on the walk here, worried, unlike the calm he almost always exuded.
“Eva fell as she was climbing the walls to this place,” Anali said.
“Fell? My sister?” Eva was like a cat, all power and grace and surety. The very first time Isa taught Eva to climb a tree, Eva had beaten her to the pinnacle branches. Soon she learned to balance on the thinnest of branches even when they swayed beneath her. When she was eleven and Eva nine—the best climbing ages, for they were light and lithe as lizards, not afraid to muck up their nails or scab a knee—Eva had shimmied up one of the columns in the Throne Room. Their father had to beg her for an hour to get down.
“She lost her grip, when a window in the wall opened,” Aketo clarified. Slowly, like he expected Isa to react poorly, and in such a placating tone that Isa wanted to scream. “It was an accident. One of the people who live here thought we were soldiers.”
“She—Papa’s family? They hurt her?” Isa’s jaw tightened. “Who?”
“It was an accident,” Aketo repeated.
Anali gave a minute shake of her head. “You’ve quite a range I’d never appreciated before, Princess Isadore. Imagine being offended that one of Eva’s kin might accidentally harm her, when you’ve already tried to kill her. One would think you’d approve of the effort.”
Without sparing Isa another glance, the Captain entered the room. Isa gathered her shock and followed the woman inside.
It took Isadore a long, breathless moment to understand what she was seeing.
Eva lay upon a large bed in the center of the room. A half-moon window rose above the headboard, its shutters thrown open so that sunlight danced across her face. Shelves took up the walls on either side. The left were filled entirely with cotton bandages and ecru towels. The opposite shelves were lined with glazed pots of the poultices and ointments healers used to aid their magick.
From what Isa could see of her sister, she looked hale, her expression serene, though her face needed washing. What she couldn’t quite understand was what the great brown-and-gold . . . thing beneath her was. At first glance, Isa nearly took it for a pelt, the way it softly hugged Eva’s body, curled almost protectively around her. But, no, as she stepped closer, she saw the material wasn’t fur but feathers.
Isa rushed toward the bed, ignoring Anali’s groan of disapproval.
Eva had changed again. She’d grown wings. In her flight from the wall perhaps? Was this some sort of shapeshifting khimaer magick? Had she inherited this from Papa? The old bitterness about Eva’s wondrous magick threatened to rise up as she stroked a hand over the feathers.
She held her breath as Eva twitched. The movement was so small that Isa wouldn’t have noticed it, if not for the strange tug she felt at her center.
That subtle pull reminded her of Eva’s nameday ball and the Entwining spell. After the Sorceryn had woven their threads of magick around them, there had been a moment where the residue of the spell hung heavy in the air and Isa realized she was tied tightly to her sister. She understood then that their lives were one until she killed Eva and severed the cord. Or Eva killed her.
She’d prayed not to feel that strange tug between them again. But now, here it was again. She didn’t want to be any closer to Eva; Isa was certain probing at this connection could only cause more problems.
She ignored the strange pull and was satisfied when the feeling faded. “What is wrong with her? Why doesn’t she wake?”
“It’s some sort of shock,” Aketo started, making Isadore jump. She hadn’t noticed him follow her inside. “Many of her bones were broken, but her body has completely healed. When she fell, she shifted. It was such a huge change that it must have sent her into this state. We believe she will wake soon.”
“And who gave this opinion? I’d like to see them. Please.” She folded her arms and rose to her full height, managing to glare down at Aketo and Anali, though both were taller than her.
“You’re in no position to make demands, Isadore,” Aketo said softly, sadly. She wanted to shake him out of this sudden onset of sorrow. Shake both him and Anali,