I tensed, preparing for more pain, but the figure that emerged was not another guard. A woman knelt beside me, her face linedwith age and experience, silver-streaked dark hair pulled back in a practical knot. Her eyes were a deep brown, but something in their shape betrayed her mixed heritage — Talfen blood, diluted but still present.
“Can you walk?” she asked, her voice matter-of-fact but not unkind. “We need to move you before they decide to come back.”
“I think so,” I managed, though I wasn’t certain.
She helped me to my feet, surprisingly strong for her age and stature. I leaned heavily on her as we made our way through a maze of back alleys and narrow passages. The pain in my ribs made each step an exercise in control, but the alternative — staying where the guards had left me — seemed worse.
“Where are we going?” I asked when I could spare the breath for speaking.
“Somewhere safe,” she replied. “Unless you have a better suggestion?”
I didn’t. The academy was out of the question — showing up bloodied and beaten would raise too many questions. Marcus’s apartments were closer, but reaching them would require moving through more heavily patrolled areas.
“No,” I admitted. “No better suggestions.”
She nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “Then trust me a little longer.”
We eventually reached a nondescript building on the edge of the merchant district. From the outside, it appeared to be a warehouse or storage facility, its windows shuttered, its door solid and unmarked. The woman produced a key from within her robes and unlocked it, ushering me inside before securing it behind us.
The interior was unexpected — clean and organized, with several tables and chairs arranged in the centre of the space. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with supplies, books, and what looked like medical equipment. Lamps burned with a low,steady light, illuminating the space without drawing attention from outside.
“Sit,” she instructed, guiding me to a chair. “Let me see the damage.”
I complied, too exhausted and in too much pain to question. She moved with practiced efficiency, gathering supplies from the shelves and returning to examine my injuries. Her hands were gentle but thorough as she cleaned the blood from my face.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked as she worked.
She met my gaze directly, her dark eyes assessing. “I saw what you did for that boy. Not many would risk themselves for a stranger.”
“Not many would be stupid enough to take on four armed guards,” I amended with a wince as she applied some stinging solution to a cut above my eye.
Her mouth curved in a small smile. “Stupid? Perhaps. Or perhaps exactly what is needed in times like these.” She set aside the bloodied cloth. “Remove your shirt. I need to check your ribs.”
I hesitated, then complied, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement pulled at already bruised muscles. Dark bruises were already forming across my torso, concentrated on my left side where the guard’s boot had connected repeatedly.
She probed gently with experienced fingers. “Two, possibly three cracked ribs. Nothing broken completely, from what I can tell. You were lucky.”
“Don’t feel lucky,” I muttered.
“You’re alive and conscious. Trust me, that’s lucky.” She began applying a pungent-smelling salve to the worst of the bruises. “You’re a warrior.”
I stiffened. “What makes you say that?”
“The way you fought. Even outnumbered, you had technique. And you’re not from around here.”
Her eyes flickered up to mine. “Don’t worry. I have no love for Imperial informants.”
“I’m not—” I began, then stopped myself. “I work for Lady Livia Cantius. She’s one of the entrants at the Dragon Elite Academy.”
“And yet you were alone tonight, wandering into trouble.” She began binding my ribs with practiced movements. “Far from the academy district.”
I didn’t answer immediately. What could I say? That I had been sent away by my lover so she could entertain another man? That jealousy and wounded pride had driven me into the city streets?
“I needed air,” I said eventually. “Space to think.”
She nodded, as if this answer satisfied her, though her expression suggested she understood more than I’d said.
“What is this place?” I asked, changing the subject.
