Page 72 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)
Blinking back tears, Kalie dipped a bloodstained rag into a bowl of pungent liquid.
Minty okul salve swirled with bloody water as she wrung the cloth out.
If not for the machine beeping above Ariah’s unmoving body—a reminder that she was here, she was alive—the gore plastered to her infected wounds would’ve been overwhelming proof that she was dead.
As she gripped Ariah’s bandaged hand, Kalie blotted at her swollen face. Beads of water swept through patches of crusted blood, loosening it from her infected skin.
The cloth snagged a vicious scab slicing through her right eye, and blood dribbled from the wound. Flinching, Kalie pressed the cloth to the gash to stem the flow.
“There are nurses who can do that, you know.”
She whipped around, and her elbow slammed into the bowl of rosy water, knocking it from the nightstand. She caught the bowl and steadied it, but water splashed onto the floor .
Dressed in his Skyforce blues, Julian leaned against the doorframe. His fingers curled into fists as he scanned Ariah’s body. Behind him, Haeden clutched a bouquet of flowers like a lifeline.
“Her… her leg,” Haeden stammered, stepping past Julian. “Her… Kal, what happened to her leg?”
Kalie’s heart sank. “Gangrene. They had to amputate during surgery. They’re still trying to figure out how far the infection spread.”
“And… and her face.” Dropping the flowers on a chair, Haeden stumbled around the bed and reached out, as if to smooth Ariah’s hair back.
Her hair was gone. Jagged wounds sliced through her skull.
“If they had her in surgery, why didn’t they fix her? Make them fix her. You’re the Duchissa now, order them to?—”
“They have to give her body time to rest before they start on the other injuries.” Kalie ducked her head, avoiding the sight of burned skin and bloody scabs.
“They used the regenerator to stop the internal bleeding, and they already pushed it further than they should’ve by amputating her leg.
It’ll be hours until her organs can take the regenerator’s strain again. ”
“But what did they do?” Haeden breathed, seizing Ariah’s other hand.
Kalie’s throat closed up.
Only Ariah would be able to answer that question, if she woke up.
“I can’t believe Carik returned her,” Julian said. “Especially since she’s your… well, your…”
The truth they’d guarded for so long hung in the air between them. The scandal had blazed through half of Dali’s news networks in the hours after Ariah’s return.
Kalie swallowed thickly.
Haeden, wrapped up in staring at Ariah, didn’t seem to hear Julian.
But Julian’s sharp gaze hovered on her, waiting for the explanation she’d deprived them of for so long.
It would have to come later, though. The truth was too tangled.
Just thinking the words gemod double filled her with bitter, poisonous guilt.
“Carik handed her over to Iliana’s envoys before Zane challenged. He tried to call them back after he heard what was happening, but the envoys ignored him and brought her home anyway.”
Julian jerked his head towards the open door. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t want to leave her alone…”
“I’ll stay with her.” Haeden held out his hand, flicking a finger towards the bowl on the nightstand. “You two talk. I’ll do this.”
Kalie bit her lip. She couldn’t run any longer. Passing the bowl to Haeden, she rose to her feet and hobbled through the open door. Julian pulled it shut.
Dissonant beeps and the odor of antiseptic attacked her, making her head pound.
A team of nurses bolted past; a slight woman straddled the gurney, performing CPR on a man whose skin was red and raw.
The wailing monitor above the stretcher made Kalie flinch, and in the blink of an eye, she was clutching Mylis’s swollen hand, screaming at the nurses to save him as they wheeled him into an operating room.
Hugging her arms to her chest, she buried the memory.
“Will she wake up?”
Kalie sniffed and pressed her hand to her running nose.
“They’ve done what they can for now, and they think they’ve stabilized her, but the damage…
It’s worse than it looks. The doctors are afraid her organs might fail, and I told them I’ll donate anything she needs, but it’s bad. Really, really bad.”
Julian’s piercing stare bore into her, and she wilted as she read the silent reply in his tight features: We’ll have to talk about that eventually .
He sighed. “Iliana’s dead. My scouts found her body washed up on the lakeshore.”
“Did the fall kill her?” Or was it my blast?
“Hard to say until the coroner examines her. I assume it was the fall. If she jumped from the palace, the impact would’ve killed her instantly.” Julian studied her as a pair of doctors bustled by. “It is surprising, though, isn’t it? That she jumped?”
Kalie stiffened. No one knew she’d been holding a pulser when Iliana had jumped, and it was better for her if it stayed that way. If they’d found the body, though, and one of the blasts had connected …
She shivered. Julian hadn’t mentioned any wounds. She had to hope no one found any. The last thing she needed was to start her reign with more accusations of murder.
She shifted her gaze to the shuttered blinds covering Ariah’s window. “She was terrified of going back to prison. I don’t blame her.”
“Hmm. Do you blame your uncle?”
Glancing towards the room where Uncle Jerran was being treated, Kalie drew her lip between her teeth. They’d brought him down from Titan hours ago, injured and malnourished, but the doctors had assured her he’d be on his feet in no time.
Though she loved Uncle Jerran, and the ghost of the girl she’d been was overjoyed that he was alive, her heart twisted at the unfairness of it all.
He’d condemned a girl her age, his own niece, to languish on Titan for twenty cycles.
The experience had been so traumatizing that she’d flung herself out a window rather than return, and now the Throne Maker was going to stroll into her court like nothing had changed.
Who knew how many other secrets he was keeping?
“I’m figuring it out. He has a lot of explaining to do. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same between us.”
Moving forward, this would be her court. Not his.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Julian’s voice was light, but he was frowning. “I’m assuming you’re hiding from him, but… talk. Talk to him. Your uncle loves you. Ignoring him, pretending that love doesn’t exist—that solves nothing.”
Kalie’s fingers curled around her elbows. Her eyes strayed towards a painting on the opposite wall, but she’d run from this for far too long. Mustering up her courage, she faced Julian.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyelid twitched, but his face betrayed nothing.
Machines chirped, and distant shouts floated down the hall.
“I shouldn’t have left you there. I… I panicked.
You knew I wasn’t ready to marry, and you—in front of everyone—” Julian’s jaw tightened, and Kalie reigned in her rising pitch.
“I shouldn’t have run from you. You deserve better, someone who wants to be married.
Someone wh o brings out the best in you.
Someone who stays when things get tough. ”
Her mind drifted to gray eyes and a vexing smirk, but she seized Julian’s hand. As he lowered his head, his throat bobbed.
“I’m sorry. But I meant what I said in my message—I’m done running. I’m here to stay.”
Julian took a shaky breath. “Being my Contessa was never your calling. You’ve always been destined for something more.”
“Only because you helped me. If your troops hadn’t come to my aid, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
He smiled weakly. “Perhaps.”
“What can I do to repay you?”
As Julian’s eyes shifted to something over her shoulder, he let go of her hand. Kalie followed his gaze and gasped.
A trio of nurses in blood-spotted scrubs rolled a gurney through a door down the hall. Short brown hair stood out against the pile of thin hospital pillows. On the monitor hooked to the IV cart, a glowing line stretched across the screen, spiking with each heartbeat.
Kalie clapped a hand to her mouth, and a stunned smile crossed her lips.
She took a step towards Zane, but her grin fell away as she paused mid-stride, glancing at Julian.
He gave her a small smile. His voice was thick with emotion as he said, “Be happy, Kal. That’s all I ask.”
A steady, rhythmic beat chimed as Zane came to. Flowery aromas washed over him. He inhaled deeply, and the pleasant smell tangled with the sharp odor of ammonia and mint. The combination made him gag and swallow convulsively, but his throat was dry, and swallowing brought pain.
Voices warbled, and Zane struggled to focus. There were other people. Alive? Dead? Something thin and scratchy rested on his bare chest. There was beeping in the distance. And… an argument. Harsh voices, a desperate plea. The voices were close, much closer than he’d thought.
Then a cry, and a crash, and?—
“You shouldn’t even be standing yet!”
That voice. More familiar than any of the others. His chest warmed at the sound of it, high and indignant as it was.
Someone made a choked sound, half-gasping, half-sobbing. There were footsteps, moving closer.
“Here, put your weight on me, come on.”
Something scuffled. “There he is! Sir, you shouldn’t be out of bed, you have to come with me?—”
“I have it under control.” Cool, collected. The voice of a leader. Again, that warmth in his chest flared. “Give us a moment, please.”
Kalie .
Everything came flooding back. The duel, the blade tearing through his gut, the death of Hewlett’s nephew, the pulser blasts thundering in his ears as darkness consumed his world.
Zane’s eyes flew wide.
A delicate pattern of interlaced metals twined across the warm panel of light in the ceiling above him. Zane scrambled upright, bashing his elbow against something hard. Gray winter light flooded through a half-shaded window, shining on sepia walls and sparkling medical equipment.
And in the shadow of the window…