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He looks shaken after what he just did, and we all gawk at him in shock and awe.

Lori stares into the empty gardens, her eyes wide, and her breaths quick and uneven. “Are you sure?”

One marches over to me and grazes the blood tainting my clothes with his fingertips, his lips curled down in a sullen pout. “How did they get inside the castle?” he asks Jo, his eyes never leaving me as he takes stock of my injuries.

“We don’t know, yet. Mitchell and Fiona were dead before I got here.” Jo reports quickly, content to obey the chain of command he so often resents—at least for the time being. “Cary and the sprites are guarding the entrance to the tunnels, so the others are all safe and accounted for except Misha.”

“Misha is off-world on assignment,” Two adds with a sigh.

“Jo and Lori, barricade the secret entrances and make sure all the sprites are safe,” One orders. “Two will check the barrier while Three tends to the dead. I’ll take care of Nell’s wounds.” He squeezes my good shoulder, standing closer than absolutely necessary. “Come on, kitten. I’m taking you to your room.”

My eyes narrow. I was ready to let him off the hook because of his heroic rescue, but not if he’s about to treat me like a spineless, fragile thing. Everyone else is hurt and exhausted and in shock, too. Why would I be the only one to leave?

“I want to help?—”

He leans closer, his stark tone daring me to argue with his orders. “Now.”

I hurry in front of him and blaze toward the tunnels. “You said that we were done and that you had to keep your distance. Well…keep it. I can find my own way.”

He presses a hand to the small of my back for a fleeting moment. “We need to deal with the poison in your body, or you’ll spend the entire night dry-heaving in a pool of sweat.”

“I feel fine.”

I know he’s right, but for all we know, we might all die before the afternoon is over. If a new wave of spiders comes, or if the king decides he needs to steal my magic and my memories in one breath in order to defeat them, I’m done for.

I’m simply boiling inside, and Cary frowns as we rush past him. “What are my orders, boss? Is the king safe?”

One wraps an arm around my shoulders. “The king is fine. Stay here and guard the tunnels.” he croaks, out of breath. He discreetly uses me for support as he chats Cary up about the details of his assignment. That fight must have taken a lot of him, but he clearly doesn’t want anyone to notice.

“Wow, Nell. I can feel your magic from here,” Cary says with a small smile. “Congratulations.”

“Err—Thanks.” Now that I have a second to think about it, he’s right. The way I healed James and Jo earlier. It was so easy.

“Nell is hurt. She needs rest,” One says a little too casually, and I squint at him.

Cary nods and returns his attention to the entrance. I wrap an arm around One in the guise of using him as a crutch, but he’s the one who truly needs it. After a good minute, One pulls away, apparently strong enough to walk without my aid.

Why doesn’t he want his underlings to know he’s in bad shape?

The tunnels are dark and claustrophobic. The stale air and waning light spark a fresh wave of panic inside my heart.

One’s fingertips brush the sensitive skin of my hairline as he whispers, “You sprouted faster than any seed ever has. That’s a formidable achievement, kitten.”

The soft tremble in his voice makes him sound awed and almost…humbled. He doesn’t know how my sudden leap in training came to happen, and a fresh wave of guilt brings a sickly sheen of sweat to my forehead. “I kissed Three,” I blurt out, red-faced. “For a moment, I thought he was you, and things got out of hand—” I say without looking back, afraid to face his disappointment.

One waves away my tortured admission. “It doesn’t matter.”

I come to an abrupt stop near my room, my mouth opened in outrage. Whatever negative reaction I expected, this is worse. “It matters to me.”

The violence of the fight is still thick in my blood, and I’m not sure if I’d rather kiss him or slap him for acting in such a business-like fashion. The end result doesn’t justify what I’ve done, and I can’t stand to see him act so cold and collected about it.

“You’re a sprout, now,” he insists, dismissing my feelings—and most likely his own—once more. “Nothing else matters.”

I move to punch his chest before I can form a conscious thought, but he grips my hand in mid-air.

“Careful now, kitten.”

We’re just outside my bedroom, and his unforgiving hold forces me to back up until I’m leaning on the door.