The healer’s gaze darts to his dead colleague, easily recognizable from the symbol of Asklepios tattooed on his mangled neck. He doesn’t hesitate. He drops down next to me and places his hands over my wound. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He presses firmly, and I suck in a sharp breath. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“Strong constitution,” Kato says.
“Stubborn as a Cyclops,” Griffin mutters at the same time.
“Get on with it.” I grit my teeth. This is going to hurt.
Magic ignites, incinerating my insides as skin, muscle, and organs start knitting back together again, much faster than before. My back bows, and I scream, suddenly hating the healer girl for fixing me just enough to keep me conscious.
Griffin whirls and punches the wall. The marble wins that fight, and his hand comes away bloody.
“Don’t bleed!” I shout at him and then scream some more.
He strings together an impressive number of obscenities, grinding his bloody knuckles into an emptied-out lemon rind. When he’s done with that, he picks up a massive chair and pounds it against the wall until there’s nothing left. He glares in disgust at the shattered chunk of wood left in his hand and then hurls it out the window with a bellow.
His family stares at him in shock. Only Anatole looks like he understands and would do the same.
“If you don’t like it,” Griffin rages, “get out!”
No one moves. Jocasta goes back to stroking my hair.
The healer rocks back on his heels, lifting his hands from me and using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Griffin pounces on him. “What are you doing? You’re not done yet!”
The healer tries not to cringe in the face of Griffin’s wrath, and succeeds—for the most part. “I have to rest, gather more magic. It’s impossible to keep going until it’s done. Using that much healing power that fast can have dire results.”
We’re well placed to know that’s true. With a frustrated curse, Griffin drops to my side.
I scowl at him. “I liked that chair.”
His lips jump up in surprise. “I’ll get you a new one.”
“I liked that one.”
Light returns to his eyes. He lifts my hand to his mouth, pressing my palm to his lips for a scorching kiss. “You must be feeling better. You’re arguing.”
Heat kindles where his breath whispers over my skin. I’m still cold, and there’s only one thing I’m certain of in my life. Only he can warm me.
“Cat’s not dying anymore, is she?” Kaia asks.
Griffin shakes his head, his eyes focused solely on me. “Everyone go back to bed. Cat needs quiet. And rest.”
Griffin’s family shuffles out, reluctantly, I think. Flynn and Kato plant themselves near the door, clearly with no intention of leaving.
I turn to the healer and ask his name.
“Eneas,” he answers.
“When can you finish?”
“Soon.” His face is pallid, his voice lacking vigor.
Eneas finishes the job as soon as he’s able. It doesn’t hurt like before, but it isn’t easy. Griffin paces furiously and looks like he wants to destroy anything within reach. I moan nonstop, sounding a lot like a coward.
When it’s done, Griffin bends over me, his eyebrows drawn together in dark, foreboding slashes. “Why is there a scar?” he demands.
Eneas frowns. “It may have something to do with the lemon juice.” He studies me with a sidelong glance that tells me he knows something about location spells. He very thoroughly washes my blood from his hands. Smart man.
Egeria pokes her head into the room, the healer child in tow. “Do you need Calla again?”
I shake my head, but Griffin motions the girl forward. Kneeling so they’re roughly the same height, he asks, “How would you like to be the personal and primary apprentice of the healer in charge of Ios?” He nods toward Eneas.
Calla blushes and dips into a respectable curtsy. “Very much, Your Highness.”
Griffin stands. “Now that that’s settled, everyone out. Cat needs to sleep.” He herds everyone out of the room, asking Kato and Flynn to stay close. He uncovers me and washes the blood off while I lie there, tired and sore. Once I’m clean, he carries me to the bed and wraps me in one of his tunics before tucking the sheet up under my chin.
I watch from under sagging eyelids as he removes all traces of blood from the room, rolling stained clothing and bloodied cloths into the soiled rug. Griffin, Kato, and Flynn take everything from the room, promising me a bonfire behind the barracks that’ll make me complain about the heat soon.