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He finally releases my wrists and gets off of me. As soon as I’m on my feet, I stalk off, far too mortified to try my hand at sparring again and avoiding eye contact with every person I pass.

“Hey!” Archie calls after me. “Kat! Wait. Where are you going? Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fine. Going to get some water, I left my flask in my room.” I can’t even look in his direction, I’m fuming and flustered.

“You can have some of mine? I’m happy to share?” he offers, still following me.

I toss an apologetic glance over my shoulder at him. “Thank you, but I’ll catch you at dinner.”

Once I’m in the privacy of my four walls, I push my sleeve back and dare a peek at my wrist. My hand trembles with the surging ache, and I grip my forearm, hoping the pressure will make the pain stop. Rotating my wrist slightly, I wince.

I slip off to the healer’s quadrant, avoiding the main pathways in hopes of not running into anyone. Gods forbid Darian himself. But the camp is quiet—everyone must still be sparring. As I walk into the healer’s quadrant, Marge is facing away from me and shifting things around on the counter.

She doesn’t even glance in my direction. “One of the first things I learned as an apprentice is hurt things bite.”

“I’m not hurt,” I retort, trying to ignore the throb in my wrist.

“I wasn’t referring toyou.” She finally turns to me and tosses me a folded bandage.

I catch the dressing with a terse, awkward nod and wrap it around my wrist tightly. I’m not quite sure what to say, so I ask the first thing that comes to my mind. “What were you talking about when you told Darian you’d cut him off?”

She stops whatever she’s been organizing and stares at the wall for a long, considering moment before turning her attention to me. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

I nod, regretting having asked it and turn to walk out.

“You two have more similarities than you think,” she says.

I pause a few steps from the door. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you and Cole lost your mother. So did he.”

I glance at her over my shoulder. “And how would you know that?”

“I’ve known Darian since he was a boy. He wasn’t always like who he is today. We either outgrow our grief, or our grief outgrows us.”

I turn to face her fully. “Doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole to everyone.”

She shrugs. “You’re not wrong. His sister was always my favorite, anyhow.”

“Was? How did she die?”

“Well, she didn’t really die,” Marge murmurs. She grabs a vial in the cabinet and brings it to me.

I swallow its contents without question. The liquid numbs my throat as it slides down, and a tingle sings in my veins. The pain in my wrist dissipates, and she directs me to go clean the empty vial.

“Then why did you say‘was?’” I call over my shoulder as I scrub the glass vial.

Her voice dips with sadness. “She’s in a coma. Has been for over ten years. I’m not quite sure what she would be like now...”

“Oh…” I respond awkwardly. “I’m sorry to hear that—”

The door bursts open, and we both whip toward the sound.

Gavin pops his head in, his black hair falling into his eyes. “Marge, Katerina. Blackfell has been breached by rebels. We’re called for an emergency meeting near the outlook tower.”

twenty-six

NIGHT WHISTLING