girl was frightened to be alone on the stair… especially after all the dread rumors.
Dart recognized the girl as she straightened from spreading her skirt over her ankles. Laurelle knew her, too, and stopped. “Margarite …”
The girl stiffened, hearing her name whispered. She whirled around.
Yaellin had continued up a few steps, unaware Laurelle had stopped. Shadows stripped from her shoulders.
Margarite stared at Laurelle, as if seeing a ghost. She froze.
Laurelle stepped toward her. “Margarite,” she said again.
The girl clutched her arms around her belly, scared, confused. She even backed away a step. “Laurelle… how… why…?”
“Oh, Margarite,” Laurelle said and rushed down, closing the distance. She hugged her friend. After a moment, Margarite did the same. They clung to each other.
Yaellin moved back down the steps, looming over the pair. Dart pushed free of the cloak. Margarite, still embraced, noted Dart’s presence over Laurelle’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes narrowed. She pulled free of Laurelle’s arms.
“What are you both doing here?” Margarite asked. The girl eyed Dart up and down, as if offended by her soiled appearance, though Laurelle was no better clothed.
Laurelle still held her old friend’s hand. “We’re here because-”
Yaellin cut her off. “As you must know,” he said haughtily, “Healer Paltry is the personal physik to the High Wing of Chrism. We’ve come here to make sure these two Hands were not harmed by the attack. We will shelter here until this foul matter is dealt with.”
Margarite stared at his dark form.
“None must know of our presence here,” he continued in commanding tones. “Other Hands are being sequestered elsewhere. It is a matter of utmost secrecy. Can you bear this burden?”
Margarite continued to stare, wide-eyed. Then she seemed to realize the question had been directed at her and nodded.
“Swear upon it.” He held out an edge of cloak. “In the way of Shadowknights, touch the blessed cloak and swear.”
Margarite reached a trembling hand and brushed her fingertips upon the cloak. “I… I swear.”
“You are very brave,” Yaellin said with a nod, dropping his cloak. “Now you’d best return to the others lest you be missed.”
Color blushed Margarite’s cheeks. She offered a quick curtsy, then headed out, but not before Laurelle rushed to her and again hugged her.
“I miss you so,” she whispered in her friend’s ear.
Margarite nodded, but her eyes were on Yaellin’s shadowed form.
They broke their embrace, and Margarite hurried down the stairs, casting many glances back at them.
Once out of sight, they set off again, climbing the stairs.
“Will she keep silent?” Yaellin asked.
“She’s our friend,” Laurelle said sternly.
Dart didn’t bother to mention that such friendship did not extend to herself. She had noted the familiar look of disgust in Margarite’s eyes. Dart trusted more in Margarite’s fear and awe of the Shadowknight than old friendships.
At last they reached the eighth landing. Yaellin led them off the stair and down the main hall to a door carved with oak leaves and acorns on its lintel.
“Stay behind me,” Yaellin said.
Dart needed no prompting to push deeper into the man’s shadows. Laurelle huddled with her.
Yaellin knocked on the door.
Footsteps approached on the far side. A latch snicked. The door pulled open, sucking some of the shadows over the threshold.
“Who calls so-?” The voice rang with irritation, then cut off.
“Healer Paltry,” Yaellin said. “I’ve come from the High Wing. Your presence is requested at the castillion. I’m to escort you on this black day.”
Dart remained hidden, but she heard the satisfaction in the other’s voice. “Of course. I’ve heard word. I’ll gather my bag and be right with you. Step inside. I won’t be more than a quarter bell.”
Yaellin followed the healer into his chamber. Dart and Laurelle stepped after him. Past the entryway, the chamber opened into the healing ward. A hearth glowed with a morning fire, and lamps shone upon the empty cots, lined around the circular chamber’s edges. In the center, a small brazier burned and smoked.
Yaellin closed the door and secured the latch.
Healer Paltry glanced back at the sound. “There’s no need-”
Yaellin let his shadows and cloak drop from him. Dart and Laurelle stood on either side of him.
Healer Paltry’s gaze fell upon Dart. Confusion crinkled his brow, and deep down something darker shone. Still, he kept his voice light. “What is all this?”
Yaellin pulled out his sword with a flash of silver. “I must ask you to keep us company, Healer Paltry. It seems that there is some matter of urgency that must be discussed.”
Healer Paltry ignored the sword. His eyes still fixed upon Dart. “The Hand of Blood,” he said. “And the Hand of Tears. The very ones wanted by the castillion guard. Ravens fly to every corner of Chrismferry. And you come here, I assume for my help.”
Dart stared into the man’s blue eyes, his handsome face. How could such beauty hide such a black heart? She met Paltry’s gaze, sensing his attempt to intimidate her with the weight of his attention, to hold her quiet. Before, Dart had left the healer’s presence trembling and panicked. She was not that girl any longer.
“Do not trust him,” Dart said with a firmness that surprised her, finding strength from the night’s terror to face the horror here. Eyes drew to her. “His vile wickedness runs to the marrow.”
“Dart?” Laurelle said, surprised.
Yaellin glanced to Paltry. “What do you know of him? Do you know why Tashijan seeks him out?”
Paltry’s eyes narrowed to sharp points, threatening.
Dart shook her head, keeping her gaze locked on the healer. “All I know… all I know is he took all from me…” The words came out, dragged up by sheer necessity, but still tearing, too large for her throat. Her vision blurred with tears, but she did not look away. Laurelle appeared at her side, taking her hand. Dart felt the warmth of her friend’s touch.
Walls broke inside her. Reservoirs of bile and bitterness, sorrow and terror, anger and misery burst their holds. She felt lifted and dragged down. She squeezed tightly to Laurelle.
“He sent Master Willet… to the rookery.” Dart began to shake. Tears took her vision, replaced it with flashes of the past, to a place of pain. “I… I couldn’t stop him. He took me by force, broke me, turned brightness to blood. I… I… I…” Her voice turned to a low keening cry of pain and grief.
Laurelle drew her tight. “Oh, Dart…”
She gasped and choked.
“You could’ve told me,” Laurelle consoled.
Dart shook her head, a bit too violently. “Spoiled… I was broken and impure. I had no other home.”
“She lies,” Paltry spat out. “She is corrupted, but not by my hand. She is foul where none can touch. I know!”
Dart felt a fury build in her that had no bounds, not even her own skin.
Laurelle must have felt it. She loosed her hold on Dart.
“Abomination,” Paltry said, pointing a finger at her.
“Quiet!” Yaellin boomed. His sword found the healer’s heart, poking through cloth to skin.
Paltry winced, dropping his arm.
“Do not speak of matters you know nothing about,” Yaellin said harshly. “She is stronger and purer of heart than any who stand in this room. What was done to her…” His voice filled with cold promise. “You shall suffer a thousandfold.”
Paltry glared at him. “That will be seen, ser knight. Not all in Tashijan share your sweet sentiment.”
