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“Ben,” Beatrice says as her shoulders stiffen up close to her ears and her eyes water. “Who cares what they think? Let them focus on their petty bullshit, we have bigger problems. You said Tremaine has a ring. I need to get it.”

“A simple ring won’t be enough proof,” I try to follow her train of thought and find it impossible. She can’t even follow her own thoughts, much less I.

“We take it to the Artificer, confirm what it is and who made it, if he didn’t make it himself. Track down who all purchased them-” she chokes off with a grunt, and a sound emits from under the table.

I’ve been in on enough torture sessions to recognize when a bone pops sickeningly out of place. Then she continues with her jaw clenched as if it were nothing.

“We also need to keep talking to the people who had someone go missing and get them on board with watching each other's backs. If the witches are being used, the rest have specialties to be exploited, too.”

“If you tell them about the Delegates,” I begin to caution, and she interrupts me.

“They’ll kill them all, and then the normal villains will be set up in their place, I know. Mab already did it when she set up an entourage in the Delegates as soon as a position orfourbecame available. But we become untrustable allies if we try to keep them in the dark about this. I’ll try to keep them focused on finding the missing, but they need to be told.”

She has a plan. And so quickly.

A new cracking pop sounds, and she winces, lowering her head so no one can see her reactions to the pain. I do not like the thought that she is so familiar with pain that she thinks little of it. Little enough to keep speaking, even though she should be resting.

“We’ll have to split up. Ben, if you take care of the interviews, I’ll take care of Tremaine.” The words are punctuated by a series of snaps that flow up her spine, straightening her in her seat with a small gasp. “She won’t be able to control me.”

“We can discuss it after you rest,” I assure her.

“Yeah,” she agrees, tilting her head to the left with another crack. “I’ll need to be back to full strength.”

“I’ll settle for not being in pain,” her guard growls.

“It’s normal,” she dismisses.

“What about us?” Kimi asks head tilted and frowning at her.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Ben, you decide what to do with them.”

She quickly amends, “Afteryou eat something. From thefridge only.”

“Are you sure?” Ben’s gaze traps mine, shrouding my thoughts in unrelieved hunger.

“Yeah. The last thing we need is Delegates to come looking and have a reason to arrest us. I don’t know about you, but prison wasn’t that much fun.”

Are we to be spared for political reasons? My eyes narrow on her huddled form with a scowl. It isn’t asif we haven’t earned her disdain. I suppose I simply assumed she would feel the same pull towards me as I do her. I know very little about menders. Perhaps her pain is muffling it.

“Bed for me,” she mutters and slowly pushes herself to a stand. Her legs wobble precariously, and then she takes her first step, gaining more confidence as she moves down the hallway.

“You could ask for help,” Ben snarls as it follows with Mitri close on her heels.

We sit in silence as we wait for him to return and cast his judgment.

14. You Don’t Get Me High Anymore

Kimi

I knew our dog was special. A good mix of sweet and salty. A chihuahua that does black magic or voodoo. Adorable. I’m confident that he’ll keep my wifey safe, even if I disagree with him on most things.

Like, when I say bring her now, I meannow.

Maybe he hasn’t learned to fetch yet. I need to get some tennis balls and some slippers. A newspaper to roll up when he’s bad.

Speaking of bad, I look over to King and Mal. Both are still tied up, not looking at each other, neither speaking. Boring.

Wifey didn’t ask us for help, so sitting still is probably the best move. They can jump when she says they can.