Page 152 of To Touch A Silent Fury

I whimpered, clutching my body as the pain bloomed across me like stabbing points of light. All I could think about was my shoulder, my cheek, my knee; I couldn’t comprehend anything else. I knew I ought to move, to get up, but everything protested when I tried to sit up.

A shadow fell over me, and I pushed myself back against the wall with blank fear. Until I saw it was Lang. He stood above me, his hands bloodied at his sides as I sprawled on the marble floor. His nose bled, his cheek was split, and when he limped forwards I saw how he favoured his right side.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, chiming like a Sellador bell, was this memory, replayed in words. Him standing over me, me on the floor, both of us bloodied.

Seth’s vision. What he hadn’t seen was the backdrop; Banrillen lying face down on the floor, moaning as he held his own bloodied face, the dragontooth still embedded in his calf.

Lang bent down and grabbed me, pulling me to his chest. “You have to run, right now.”

I nodded. “You, too.”

He grimaced, and lied to my face. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Banrillen was on his knees, his roar bestial as he rose once more.

I ran for the door. At least, I started to run. On the second stride my knee crumbled under my own weight, but I hobbled forwards, slamming my hand against the door as the guards pulled it open.

They looked at me in surprise, and I limped out of the room, casting one final look in as Banrillen loomed over Lang. Banrillen yelled at the guards to leave them, and the doors closed once more, sealing them in.

I made it halfway to the main hall before I collapsed. One worried maid became several staff in an instant, and even with my vision blacking in and out, and my ears ringing, I was certain I heard a distant shattering of glass.

39

Tani

Iwas already awake, staring out at the foggy dawn, when the door opened. I tensed, eyeing the candlestick over the fireplace to use as a weapon. No one had replaced Foxlin. My door had been unguarded all night, the perfect opportunity for someone to slip a knife between my ribs. But it was only Plonius, the tailor, and he bustled in with an arm of cosmetics and a handful of ribbons.

I stopped looking at the candlestick, but I did not relax.

Plonius gave me a nod without really looking, then placed his items on the vanity table and tapped the chair.

This was it, then. The morning of the wrong wedding. I sat heavily into the seat and looked at Plonius in the looking glass.

Last night I had washed the blood off in the bath and sat in it longer than I should have. It helped my pain somewhat, but I didn’t stay in it for comfort. I sat there, holding myself, because I didn’t want to get out and face the empty bed, or have to look beneath the pink soapy water and see my bruises.

He stared at my reflection. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.”

Plonius forced a smile. “It’s an exciting day. I can understand.”

I said nothing. Hanindred slept still, and it unnerved me. How much domil had they given him? Where was he? Was Lang even alive?

“I brought you this,” he said, a fine silver chain hanging from his hands. “It’s Soundlands silver. For your stone.”

The chain glinted, and I sobbed. I held my hands to my face, and the noise came out of me like a keening animal. I couldn’t stop it, only pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes as I cried, the tears escaping around it.

I should never have come here. All of it, every horror of the last few days, broke from me in desperate sobs I tried to stop but could not.

Eventually, I removed my hands. I turned to look at him as my breath came in short hiccups. “I’m sorry. My eyes are going to be all red.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I can fix you up just fine.”

“Thank you,” I said as he dropped the beautiful chain into my hands.

Plonius worked around me, removing the cord from my neck before dusting my face and neck with various creams and powders. When it came time for me to change, he gasped, looking at my shoulder. I craned my head and saw the wide reddish bruise blotching under the flesh.

Plonius ghosted a finger over it.