Voices murmured in the hall. For a moment, she was tempted to burrow under the covers and go back to sleep. Not face any of it. But that wasn’t an option. Cathrynne rose stiffly from the bed and hobbled across the room, pressing an ear to the door.
“ . . . three cracked ribs and multiple contusions. Her kidneys are likely bruised so she’ll see pink urine. That should eventually stop on its own. The salve must be applied to her lacerations twice daily.” A pause. “You understand that I have to report this. Assault is a serious crime?—”
No. No, no. She jerked open the door. The three women in the hall turned to look at her. Her mother Hysto was still regal as a hawk, her face unlined though she was past sixty. Nestania, her grandmother, looked the same. Tall and olive-skinned, with white hair cascading to her waist. Gems gleamed at her throat and hands.
The third woman was younger and carried a black medical bag. She had brown eyes—not a witch. Her hair was cut short, and she wore a fashionable man’s suit with perfect confidence. Cathrynne liked her, but she couldn’t allow word to get out that she was here.
“No reports.” The words came out a croak.
The doctor frowned. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”
She gripped the door jamb. “I was in an accident. I’ll be fine?—”
“Nonsense,” the doctor retorted briskly. “There are bruises upon bruises. It is quite obvious that these injuries were inflicted over time.”
Hysto rushed to Cathrynne’s side, guiding her back to bed. The raw look in her eyes made Cathrynne deeply uncomfortable.
“Tell the doctor I don’t remember what happened,” she whispered. “Make her go away. No reports.”
Hysto studied her for a moment, then nodded. She returned to the hall. They all spoke in low voices. The doctor came into the room.
“At least let me give you something for the pain,” she said. “It will help you sleep.”
“No sedatives,” Cathrynne said firmly.
The doctor sighed. “Very well. But you must stay on bed rest for a week.”
Cathrynne promised. She’d say anything to get rid of this woman. Hysto showed the doctor out, leaving Nestania, whose silver eyes seemed to see straight through her.
Please,” Cathrynne rasped. “Tell no one I’m here. No one.”
“What have you gotten yourself into, child?”
“I’m not a child.” Her voice hardened. “And you owe me this.”
Nestania’s gaze brushed the raven tattoo on her hand. A brief look of shame crossed her face. “Who did it?” she asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Cathrynne rolled over and shut her eyes. A moment later, she heard her grandmother leave the room.
For the first three days, every time she slept, she had nightmares that she was back in the cell. The beatings were nothing compared to being trapped in that lightless place.
Someone must have heard her screams, because when she woke one morning, a big caracal was lying on the rug by her bed. She learned that his name was Tamar. His yellow eyes watched the window, and he rose to his feet whenever someone came inside the room. He let her scratch behind his ears.
When he left to do his business in the garden, or to eat chopped meat in the kitchen, Cathrynne felt anxious until he returned. But she trusted that he would alert her to any danger, and gradually she was able to sleep through the night again.
Markus and Veronica must know where she’d run to. She wondered if they would dare come here and try to take her back by force.
Perhaps not.
Hysto and Nestania were powerful witches. They would fight hard.
And Cathrynne’s value was uncertain. Markus couldn’t be sure she knew where the kaldurite source was.
The fact was, she didn’t know.
Only Kal Machena did.
