Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 29

"Yes, my men will escort you to the west turret, where you will be placed under guard. Your window has been repaired-barred and boarded over, actually-to prevent another stunt like you pulled tonight. You will stay in your quarters until I can figure out the best way to control your impulses."

"Whatever you say, Uncle."

"Much better." Luka then turned to me. "Anya, you will remain here for the moment. There is something you and I need to discuss."

I watched Luka warily as Matlock and Farrier took charge of Zabriel, knowing he did not intend a casual conversation. He moved to the sideboard to pour himself a gla.s.s of wine, and I struggled against the numbing effects of exhaustion. From his point of view, this was probably an ideal time for an interrogation; from my point of view, it negated all the compa.s.sion I had attributed to him over the course of our relationship.

I didn't have to wait long to learn Luka's intentions. Returning to his desk, he raised a question that, even in my weakened state, I realized was perilous. After all, he had just ordered the ambush of a man and his crew for possessing the same knowledge.

"What can you tell me about Gwyneth Dementya?"

Trying to gather my wits, I countered, "What do you want to know?"

"Let's not play games. The note that set up the meeting with Fane was sent to you by Gwyneth. How is she involved with these men? And what is her relationship with Zabriel?"

I forced myself to meet his eyes and stilled my hands in my lap, not wanting to show any signs of deception. With sweat trickling down my back, I pressed my brain to remember the exact wording of the note, for I had no doubt Luka did. I had to be very, very careful about what I said next.

"As I've already told you, Shea and I spent some time with Gwyneth and her father while we were in Sheness. When Leo asked us about our reason for visiting the port city, I explained we were looking for my cousin-Illumina, that is." I paused, letting my a.s.sertion resonate. Though my pulse was racing, I refused to allow my breathing rate to quicken, despite the nauseating dizziness that resulted. "Shea and I eventually met Fane, who led us to Pyrite. Unfortunately, Gwyneth b.u.mped into Shea and me one afternoon when we were in Fane's company. But because of that, when Illumina and I were leaving Sheness, I told Gwyneth that Fane might need to get a message to us and asked her to a.s.sist. I didn't exactly have a permanent residence, so I told her she could get a message to me through Fi."

He studied me, sipping his wine. For once, exhaustion proved an a.s.set, for it made it easier to keep my bleary eyes on him.

"So Gwyneth never met Pyrite?"

"No."

"And she doesn't know Pyrite and Zabriel are the same person?"

"No."

"And she had nothing but a haphazard acquaintance with Fane?"

"You really shouldn't use such big words when I'm this tired," I complained, attempting to discourage further questioning, and a smile flickered across Luka's face. "Gwyneth never knew what business Fane was in-her only mistake was her willingness to do me a favor."

"Then why did she write her message in such a convoluted manner?"

"Big words, again-you're giving me a headache." I stalled for time, needing to come up with an explanation that would satisfy him. Taking a deep breath, I gave the best reason my brain could conceive. "Gwyneth's smart-I imagine she realized we might be in trouble and was trying to protect me. And who knows what Fane told her."

Luka finished his wine and set down his goblet. Then he came to his feet and walked over to me. Dropping to one knee, he gazed directly into my eyes.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Anya?"

"I'm not lying to you. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I may not have wings, but I'm still Fae. And Fae can't lie." This was, of course, the biggest lie I had ever told, for I was no longer constricted by the bounds of being Fae.

"Very well." He stood and offered me his hand. I accepted, and he escorted me to the door. "You should return to your quarters, hopefully for a good night's sleep."

I mumbled a thank-you, then left Luka's study, knowing there was only one way I'd be able to sleep tonight-with the help of the Cysur from the pub. Every muscle, every fiber, every cell in my body ached, and I longed for the Green like one would long for the comforting embrace of an old friend.

Upon reaching my room, I removed the bag of supplies from my belt and tossed it onto the bed. With my eyes firmly fixed on my prize, I tore off my clothes and slipped into a nightgown, then pulled the pouch of Cysur from the bag. My hands shaking with antic.i.p.ation, I freed the phial of Black Magic, the syringe, and the strap from inside it. I stared at the entrancingly cold liquid, almost tempted to drink it, then measured the dose I needed. I tightened the band around my upper arm, took a deep breath, and plunged the needle beneath my skin.

Relief came almost at once, to be followed by a reaction I'd never before had. My stomach cramped, and my muscles quivered. My vision darkened and narrowed, and I felt as if I were falling, plummeting, faster and faster toward the ground. I lurched to my feet, stumbling toward the door, knowing if I hit the ground this time, I'd never see the light of another day. b.u.mping into the unyielding wood, I fumbled for the handle and pulled it open, one thought in my head. I needed help. I staggered down the hallway toward the Lieutenant Governor's study, bouncing off the walls along the way.

"Luka," I desperately called, realizing I wasn't going to make it. As my vision dimmed and my legs gave out, I heard footfalls pounding down the corridor toward me, and I collapsed into Tom Matlock's arms.

I slowly opened my eyes and glanced around. Judging from the sterile smell, plain walls, pristinely clean floors and windows, and white bed coverings, I was in a hospital. I turned my head to see Tom sitting at my bedside, leaning forward with his head in his hands, his face gray with tiredness. I tried to sit up, wanting to reach out to him, but my muscles refused to cooperate, and I sank back with a moan. He immediately straightened, the soft sound that had escaped my lips alerting him like the clang of a gong.

"Anya, thank G.o.d," he exclaimed, shifting closer to take my hand. "I thought we'd lost you."

"What happened?" I croaked, my throat and mouth almost too dry to create sound.

He reached for a gla.s.s of water on a stand beside the bed, then helped me to raise my head and take a sip.

"All I know is you shot up with Cysur. I found you in the hallway when I was returning to Luka's study, and he and I brought you here. We weren't sure you were going to make it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"So am I." He brushed the hair off my forehead, his hand lingering against my skin. "I should have known that after the events of the night, you'd be hurting. I didn't know you'd gotten your hands on more of the Green, but I could have guessed you'd need comfort of some sort."

I swallowed with difficulty, and he again offered me the water.

"I made the choice," I said, voice a little stronger. "Not you."

He shrugged. "We don't need to talk about it now. You should just rest. I'll let the doctor and your father know you've roused."

"My father's here?"

"Yes, he's getting a little sleep in another room. And he just thinks you're ill. He doesn't know about the drug."

He stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek, but I caught him by the arm.

"That didn't feel like the Green, Tom. No rush, no reward."

"So you didn't overdose?"

"No." I dropped my gaze, awash in humiliation over what I was about to say. "I injected the usual amount."

"I told you, Anya-there's some bad stuff on the streets. But now that we've got the rest of the phial from your room, maybe we'll be able to figure out what's really going on."

I nodded, then closed my eyes, our short conversation reawakening the ache in my stomach, and he once more kissed my cheek.

"I'll be back," he murmured against my ear.

I nodded, though it was my father who entered a short time later to take up the chair beside my bed.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked, fingering his dark beard, his graying hair less tidy than usual, the deepening lines in his face making him look ten years older.

"I'm fine, Father, no need to worry."

He reached out to take my hands. "I believe there's much reason for worry. Lisian fears you may have been poisoned. Until more is known, he has the Queen and the rest of the Fae delegation sequestered in their quarters under the protection of the Blades."

He examined my eyes, and I shifted my gaze to the window, feeling a rush of guilt over the trouble I was causing. But I could not bring myself to tell him the truth. Besides, the Blades would find no evidence of poison-the phial and syringe had been kept from them-and the incident would soon be forgotten.

With a rea.s.suring squeeze of my good hand, my father continued. "That's the reason your aunt and friends cannot visit you, though they are terribly concerned about you. And I must leave soon, too." He gave me a wistful smile. "No power on earth could have kept me from your side until I knew you would recover, but now I must respect my duty to the Queen."

"I understand. Please a.s.sure everyone I'm feeling fine. And, Father, I doubt I was poisoned. More likely I ate something that didn't agree with me."

Though my words sounded awkward to my own ears, my father appeared to accept them. He came to his feet, his hands reluctantly slipping from mine.

"Since the danger seems to have pa.s.sed, I'll speak with the doctor about having you discharged to our care at the mansion. I would be more comfortable with that arrangement."

I smiled. "That would be my preference, too."

He bent forward to give me a kiss on the cheek, then departed. My eyes welled with tears in the aftermath of his visit, for I felt a new kind of misery. Cyandro was a good man-no, he was a great man-and he deserved a better daughter.

I must have dozed off, because the sound of m.u.f.fled voices was slow to penetrate my brain. I opened my eyes to see Tom and Luka talking in the far corner of my hospital room. Noting I was awake, Tom gave a nod of his head in my direction, and then deserted the Lieutenant Governor to come to my side. I sat up, and he immediately adjusted the pillows and bed coverings to make me more comfortable. Finished with his fussing, he extended a gla.s.s of water to me, and I blushed, not used to such solicitousness.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as the Lieutenant Governor came to stand at the foot of the bed.

"Better." I took a long drink to ease my scratchy throat, my eyes glued to Luka, who was studying me with a regretful smile.

"I seem to make a lot of mistakes with regard to you, Anya," he said, and I coughed, almost choking on my water. I expected the Lieutenant Governor to be angry, or at the very least, disappointed. Given the events of the previous night, sympathy was not something I could have antic.i.p.ated, nor was it what I wanted.

"I should have noticed the signs and offered you a.s.sistance," he calmly resumed. "There was no need for you to turn to Cysur for relief from your pain."

I looked at him, then at Tom, then back at Luka, my surprise turning to confusion. "What signs are you talking about? What mistakes have you made?"

"Sometimes people who go through traumatic experiences have a hard time getting over them. I've seen it before among my own troops. Men who've seen conflict, trauma, tragedy, death-many of them suffer from nightmares, even attacks of fear and panic that come out of nowhere. A few even hallucinate."

Reading my stunned expression, he paused, letting his words resonate. It had never occurred to me that the things that were happening to me-the horrors that haunted me-were somehow within the realm of normal.

"You've suffered a number of traumas since entering the Warck.u.m Territory, starting with the attack in which you lost your wings. But you also witnessed what you thought was Zabriel's execution. And seeing Hastings die right in front of you, no matter how satisfying, would still have been a shock. And I suspect that's far from a complete list. I should have realized you could develop symptoms similar to my men. But now that things are out in the open, none of us need to repeat past mistakes. So you have my pledge that I will do my best to help you recover. And I'm sure Tom here will say the same."

"I've already told her as much," Tom echoed, sitting down next to me on the bed and taking my hand, astounding me yet again. I hadn't thought he'd openly display his affection for me with the Lieutenant Governor in the room.

"But why would you help me?" I asked Luka, voice barely audible.

"I admire your strength, your resolve, your loyalty to Zabriel and to your people." He stepped around to the side of the bed to place a hand on Tom's shoulder. "And it appears a young officer who I've taken under my tutelage has developed a liking for you."

Tom rolled his eyes, I blushed, and Luka absentmindedly ruffled the young Constabulary's hair.

"Now, then, I've got work to do," he finished. "There's a guard outside the door, but I'm a.s.suming, Officer Matlock, that you would prefer to be a.s.signed to hospital duty?"

"Absolutely."

Luka turned to leave, only I interrupted his exit with a question of my own.

"My family-the Fae delegation-how much do they know about my...illness?"

"I told them the facts of your collapse, nothing more. As I'm sure you heard from your father, there is speculation that you may have been poisoned."

"But hasn't that created a lot of tension in the mansion?"

"Nothing I can't handle. It's amusing, in a bizarre way, to see who they will next accuse."

With a respectful nod of his head, he took his leave, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

Now that the Lieutenant Governor had departed, Tom shared some news of his own.

"Luka's right about your unfortunate lack of visitors. But there's one person who will be coming to see you. She'll be here tomorrow morning. And in case you've forgotten, the parade and Governor's Ball are also tomorrow, although it remains to be seen whether you'll feel up to attending the festivities."

"She will be here? Do you mean Fi? Gwyneth?"

He shook his head. "No-Shea More will be paying you a visit."

My eyes widened, the rest of my body momentarily too shocked to react. Then my stomach lurched, my heart raced, my blood pounded in my temples, and my muscles tensed to either fight or run. Shea wasn't someone I wanted to see. I wadded up a portion of the sheets within my clenched fists, mind whirling to find a way out of this. But it was too late-she knew where to find me.

I took a drink of water, knowing full well Tom had been a.n.a.lyzing my reactions. Then I forced a smile. "How does Shea know I'm in the hospital?"

"Luka seemed to think the pirate, Fane, who died in the fight on the bridge, was threatening her. He sent me to pay a visit to her father's store, and she was there."

I studied the gla.s.s I held in my hands, for Tom had learned the reason for my earlier visit to Thatcher's shop.

"But you wouldn't have known anything about that, right? And you don't have any connections to the pirates, either. I'm not keeping track of your deceptions here, but you previously denied that."

"Actually," I feebly pointed out, "I neither confirmed nor denied a connection to the pirates."

"That doesn't make it any better, Anya." A note of frustration had entered his voice. "At some point, you're going to have to trust me."

Feeling judged, I rallied to my own defense. "I'll be more open with you when you stop reporting everything I tell you to Luka."

He considered me, then abruptly stood and walked to look out the window. It appeared I had hit a nerve.

"You don't trust Luka?" he finally asked.

"You once said you trusted him as much as any politician. It just so happens I don't like politicians."

He pivoted to face me. "Then there's hope your opinion of him may someday change."

I frowned, wondering why my opinion of Luka mattered to Tom. But I didn't pursue it-I liked the relaxed Officer Matlock much better than the irritable Officer Matlock.

"Now, Anya, we should talk about the plans for the Governor's Ball. Your father seems to think you'll be able to attend, at least for a while. Since he can't do it himself, he's asked me to take you through the protocol."

I groaned, tired of all the rules, formalities, and procedure a.s.sociated with official ceremonies in the human world. As Tom came to sit in the armchair next to the bed, I put a question to him.

"Does Konstantin know how to dance?"