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Scarlett was still in that ivory dress, full of blood and sand. She was cold and clammy, despite the heat he’d pulsed through her as they’d rode while he held her wound together with his magic.

“I am sorry I could not get you a cloak sooner,” Sorin said thickly. “Eliza has clothes for you in a saddle bag when she gets back with the horses.”

Scarlett said nothing, staring at a point beyond him, her eyes blank. Her shadows swirled about like a mist.

Sorin turned to the saddle bag full of first aid supplies he had grabbed before Eliza had taken the horses. He opened a jar and the strong smell of medicinal herbs filled the air. He swallowed as he turned back to her, unfastening his own cloak and draping it over her waist.

“I need to lift your dress, Scarlett. I need to clean the wound out. It is going to burn.”

She said nothing.

Then Callan was kneeling beside her, gently gripping her hand. Her eyes met his, but there was no reaction. No note of recognition in those eyes that had returned to icy blue.

Sorin pulled his magic back as he gently lifted her dress. The back of his fingers grazed her skin, and he felt her tense. Gritting his teeth, he poured the antiseptic on the wound. Her body jerked, and her eyes squeezed shut. Instinctively, Sorin put his hand on her stomach to hold her still, and her eyes snapped to his at the contact. It was the first time she’d looked at him since the beach.

He held her stare, and every sound around him seemed to diminish. Her eyes were like chips of ice and radiated with hurt and betrayal and loathing. “Look at that,” Sorin said softly, “some emotion.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Sorin nearly sighed in relief at the slight reaction.

Callan cleared his throat, and Scarlett broke her stare, retreating back into wherever she was caging herself inside her mind.

Sorin could have punched the prince in his fucking throat.

“Scarlett,” the prince said tentatively. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m sure she needs some fresh clothing and a break from insufferable males,” Eliza drawled, returning with the two horses. She dropped the leads and walked around to a saddle bag, drawing a pair of pants and a thick tunic from the bag and unsnapping a clasp to free a pair of boots.She dropped down beside Sorin, pushing the prince out of the way. “Will binding be enough? If we ride through the night, we could cross the border by mid-morning.”

“She cannot go that long,” Sorin replied, using a clean cloth to wipe the antiseptic from the wound. Scarlett flinched at the pressure. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Eliza unscrewed a lid and handed him a jar of ointment. He dipped his fingers in and began applying it to the edges of the wound. Blood still seeped from it. It wasn’t gushing as it had been before, but her skin was pale. The ointment was from the Fae lands and would start the healing process, but it would be slow. “This is not going to be enough,” he said to Eliza. “I can just keep it patched with my magic until we cross the border.”

“You cannot keep that up, Sorin. You know this. You are already far too drained. You need to stop touching your magic until we cross the border, or you will have nothing left to portal us home.” Eliza slapped a roll of bandages into his hand. “Unless you wish to drag her all over the Fire Court and through the Fiera Mountains.”

Sorin bared his teeth at the female. “You seem to keep forgetting who gives the orders here, General.”

She huffed a laugh. “I think it isyouwho keeps forgetting one’s place. Bind it, and I will help her change. We need to get going, especially if we’re stopping to camp tonight.”

Sorin returned his attention to Scarlett, pulling the cloth back from the wound. She had returned to staring beyond him, her eyes locked on Eirwen.

“What exactly is the ranking here?” Finn asked tentatively. Sorin met the guard’s eyes as he looked back and forth between him and Eliza.

“What an excellent question,” Eliza replied sarcastically. “Would you like to answer it, Sorin, or would you like me to take this one?”

“Eliza,” Sorin warned, studying the wound. “She should change before we bandage it.”

Eliza sent the mortals away, Callan reluctantly obeying her orders. Sorin stood and stepped off to the side as well, waiting for Eliza to summon him back. When she did, Scarlett was standing,her lips bloodless as Eliza supported her. Her eyes met his briefly, and she wordlessly lifted her tunic to allow him access to the wound.

Sorin quickly and efficiently bandaged the wound after applying a bit more ointment. When she lowered her tunic, she shrugged out of Eliza’s grip and walked slowly to Eirwen. She reached up and gripped his bridle. Gently pulling his head to her own, she placed her forehead against his, stroking his cheek.

“I can see why she was kept hidden away. She is strong in more ways than one,” Eliza said quietly beside Sorin, both of them watching her. Sorin opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut as Callan approached Scarlett. “Easy, Sorin.” He felt Eliza grip his arm hard, digging in her nails. “Unless you intend to tell her, you need to keep yourself under control.”

Scarlett had turned and was facing Callan, but she didn’t say anything to him. Callan brought his hand up as if he were going to touch her cheek, but she stepped back from him, and his hand dropped to his side.

“Did she say anything to you?” Sorin asked Eliza.

“No. Not a word. She just did everything I asked her to when I helped her change.”

“She hasn’t spoken since we left Baylorin.”