He looked at her, tired, but resigned. “It’s all right,” he said, “I understand.”
“I don’t,” snapped Lila. “I have watched you suffer for seven years. Seven years I have searched high and low for a cure, some way to fix what was broken. Here she is, and you refuse to even make her try.”
Kell sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “She says she can’t—”
“Can’t and won’t are different things.”
Kell gave the other Antari a heavy look. “It is not worth the risk. Just heal her, Lila. Please.”
Tes saw Lila’s anger waver on that last word, a door cracking to reveal something ragged, pained, before it slammed shut. She flung her blade at Kell’s feet. It skidded over the marble floor, came to rest against his boot.
“Do it yourself,” she snapped, “since you don’t want any help.”
Kell sighed. And then he knelt and retrieved the blade.
“It’s all right,” said Tes, the room swaying in her sight. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he said gently, bringing the knife to his thumb. A muscle ticced in Lila’s jaw. Her shoulders twitched, as if willing the rest of her to intervene.
Tes watched the skin part, dark blood welling as he reached to touch her and—
“Oh for fuck’s sake, stop,” said Lila, pulling the prince away. Her other hand was already bleeding, her fingers vising around Tes’s wrist.
“As Hasari,” growled the Antari, and as the spell rolled over Tes, the pain dropped like a stone in a deep well.
Healing was a gradual thing, pain lessening from a sharpened point to a dull ache before it faded. Now, it simply fell away. Tes could see the silver magic twining with her own, see it flare around her as her side knit itself beneath her shirt. Her hand closed beneath the kerchief. The weakness washed away, and left her pulse strong and steady in its wake.
Tes sighed in relief as Lila’s fingers dropped from her wrist, leaving a smear of red behind. “That was the first and only time I bleed for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Yes, thank you,” echoed Kell.
“Oh, shut up,” snapped Lila, turning on him.
Tes, meanwhile, started for the gilded door, hoping it led out, out of the room, out of the palace. She went to pull it open, but a hand slammed into the wood, forcing it closed.
“Going somewhere?” demanded Lila, her tone full of menace, and Tes realized how wrong she’d been, to seek out the Antari’s aid. Lila Bard wanted the same thing as Bex and Calin—to use her.
“I’m grateful you healed me,” said Tes. “But I can’t help you, with the persalis, or the prince. You have no reason to keep me here.”
“We are doing you a favor,” said Lila. “It isn’t safe out there. Not with the Hand.”
“She’s right,” said the prince. “The two we met today will still be looking for you.”
Tes shook her head. She’d wanted a champion. Now all she wanted was to get as far away as possible.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said, tugging on the door, but Lila must have been using magic to hold it fast, because it did not so much as give.
“This is the safest place in the city,” said the Antari, a grim smile tugging at her mouth. “Here, I’ll show you.” With that, she wrenched the door open, and shouted, “Guards!”
“Lila,” said Kell wearily, as two soldiers appeared in the doorway.
“Put her in a cell.”
Tes tried to retreat into the room, but Lila put a hand in the center of her back.
“We’re not done talking, you and I,” she hissed in Tes’s ear, before forcing her forward, into the hall, and the waiting arms of the palace guards.
Tes fought, for whatever it was worth, which wasn’t much. Lila had healed her wounds, but she was still half the soldiers’ size, and before she could so much as reach to pluck a thread of their magic, her arms were forced behind her.
The last thing she saw was Kell Maresh sinking into a chair behind Lila Bard, who smiled at Tes before she flicked her wrist, and the door slammed shut, and the guards hauled her away.
V
Tes should have gotten on a ship.
She’d been right there, could have stolen away aboard one of the many vessels crowding the London docks, and dropped the doormaker over the side when they were safely out to sea, and started again in another city, on another shore. There would always be work for a man like Haskin, which meant there would always be work for a girl like her.