“Don’t do that, please,” Evie muttered weakly beside him. “I’m already nauseous.”
There was a short, silent pause before The Villain rephrased his words. “Fine. You both have ten seconds to explain now, and later, I will rip out your throats.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Tryst.” Clare had the gall to sound irritated, and Trystan wanted to wring her neck. “We were helping her.”
“By torturing her?” he said darkly, looking to Sage, whose breathing was shallow. Her normally vibrant skin was pale, sweat beaded at her forehead, and her face was streaked with tears.
But Sage’s small voice cut through the volatile tension in the air. “They’re telling the truth.” They all turned to look at her as she sat up slowly. Trystan reached out a hand to steady her, and she smiled at him gratefully. His face heated.
“The dagger is in the box.” She nodded toward the box on the table. It was made of simple wood, no longer than his forearm.
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
“Well, if you would stop nearly breaking your neck jumping to conclusions, I could tell you.” Clare rolled her eyes and cocked a hip. “The dagger is imbued with a rare kind of binding magic. It absorbed her blood when it cut her. That’s why it hurts whenever she’s near it.”
“And?” Trystan asked, feeling his pulse rising again.
“Clare said the only way to break the bind was to expose myself to the pain until it didn’t hurt anymore,” Sage said, still sounding weak. He felt ill.
“So, you…you wanted them to do this?” He furrowed his brow, head reeling.
Sage flexed her hands after squeezing them. “I wanted to be free of it, the pain.”
His lips parted as he looked at her, unable to keep the fear from his gaze. “That’s very brave,” he said hoarsely.
Clare and Tatianna eyed them both, but when their gazes turned toward each other, they both swiftly looked away. Still both stubborn as ever.
Clearing her throat, Clare spoke again. “Tatianna allowed me to look at the blade this morning because the steel was made with ink much like mine,” Clare said, not looking at Tatianna at all. “The blade is almost sentient because of it, and when it gets a lick of your blood, it steals some of your essence.”
Trystan nodded; he’d heard of it before. “It’s not uncommon. Warriors in battle can greatly benefit from having a blade that is connected to them, like it’s an extension of their very being.” He smiled to himself.
“Warrior” seemed an apt description for the small woman in front of him already moving to stand.
“I want to keep going,” Sage said, color returning to her cheeks. “Clare says there’s something about this magic—something dangerous and unpredictable. I prefer not to have wild magic embedded in my shoulder, waiting to take me out like a ticking time bomb.” She paused and added, “I’ve had enough of those.”
Trystan wanted to tell her no, wanted to insist that she not proceed. But what if his sister was right? What if the magic of the wound could harm her without warning? “If that is your wish, then I’m sure Tatianna and my sister wouldn’t mind working together to help you.”
He looked pointedly at them both, and each gazed at the other before eventually nodding at him.
“Of course,” Tatianna said.
“Happy to assist.” Clare nodded demurely.
The list.
“Tatianna, where were you the night the guvre escaped?”
The healer widened her eyes before taking a step back, looking at him, and proceeding to howl with laughter. “Did you think it was me? The spy!”
Clare chuckled, too, and Evie put a hand over her mouth.
These women were taking years off his life. “You laugh, but you are the final person I couldn’t rule out as a suspect.”
“If I were the traitor, you’d be dead already, Tryst.” Tatianna reached up to pinch his cheeks, and he swatted her hand away. “The night the guvre escaped, I was at the Evergreen Tavern. You can ask the barkeep.”
His head was pounding with that deep ache that had settled there when the traitor first started complicating his life.
“Then I’m out of options,” he said, defeated.
Another voice floated from the direction of the open doorway. “What, uh… What happened to the door?” Blade walked in, grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you want, Gushiken?” This day was getting worse and worse.