I stare at her. "You know him well, then?"
Meda shrugs. "You never asked about my life before I came to you," she points out.
She's right. I've always been too intimidated by her to do anything but obey her—or fight her when she demanded it. Meda wasn't an easy person to get close to. For me, in any case. She got along with my mother.
"I was the captain of Titus's guard."
My jaw drops.
"That's right!" the king chirps, returning with his hands full. "And one of my closest friends, too. Which is why when you promised to return, I believed you."
While his tone remains light, the accusation is unmistakable.
Meda smiles up at him. "And I'm here, aren't I?"
King Titus laughs, throwing the mess of things he's fetched on the rest of the sofa. Clean cloth, flasks, gauze, needles. He proceeds to unwrap Meda's wound.I wince along with Titus when I see its state. It's clearly infected. The skin along the edges of the cut is raised and greenish, the blood pitch black.
I want nothing more than to take a step back. Titus leans in and licks it.
"Just salt and iron. You've survived worse."
He cleans the wound carefully, and when he's done, places his hand over it. I can feel magic pulse through.
"I can probably speed that up, now that it's clean," I offer.
I couldn't think of healing her while she had poison inside her. Closing off the wound over salt and iron would result in pain for the rest of her days, and maybe kill her in the end.
The king directs his attention to me for the first time.
"You're the granddaughter, then?" he guesses.
I nod, joining them. I place my fingertips at the edge of Meda's collarbone and transfer some of my energy to her. I'm tired, but I haven't tapped into my magic at all recently. I barely feel the strain. The wound closes up in front of our eyes.
"Fascinating. You're a Void, are you not?"
I nod, tenser than I'd like.
"I've read many books on Voids. We haven't had one for a while—they're rarer than most powers. I think the last student we saw came to us some fifty years ago."
I'm speechless.
Drusk says it for me. "You had a Void fifty years ago? We haven't seen one since Nyx in Tenebris."
Titus laughs. "Unlikely."
I frown, confused.
"You may not have had a gentry, noble-born Void who can be recognized by anyone of importance in centuries. That doesn't mean that a random sprite may not have possessed such a power, without having the means to recognize it. And it's also possible that some are fully aware of their ability, and choose to conceal it. Who's to accuse them of murder if no one knows they can kill with a touch?"
I can't deny the truth of his words, yet I want to argue.
"Though clearly, you're rather powerful. This little exchange would have cost the last Void I knew all her strength." I can't tell whether he's honest, or wants to make me feel better.
"Do you have Mysts?" I ask.
He tilts his head. "Far fewer. They're native to your parts, the children of the Court of Mist."
Drusk and I exchange a glance.
