Ios looked sharply at Seche, colour draining from his face. His tail lost its hook, shaking instead in agitation like Kit’s, though not as violently.
“We thought she diverted to the river because of merfolk activity on the open seas. Was that simply a subterfuge?” Seche looked intently at Kit. “Were you sent to harm General Valor?”
The rebels, Nick realised, remembering where he knew the name Valor from. General Valor, leader of the rebellion, and Desre’s husband. Kit said he’d been in Desre’s service since he was a child, and Nick imagined that meant his role as her number one was commonly known. A dangerous position to have, given where they now were. Maybe even as dangerous as when Kit was by Desre’s side.
Ios hooked his tail again, though the friendly beckoning now had an edge; his tail didn’t flow from one side to the other, relaxed and smooth, instead it swung in twitches and jerks. But from Ios’s expression—hopeful, open—Nick thought his friendliness genuine.
“I am not here under any orders,” Kit said. His attention shifted to his chained arms. “Release me; I will not try to harm any of you.”
“You weren’t exactly cooperative on the way here,” Seche said, making no move to free him. “Even after Ios made himself known to you.”
Kit’s teeth flashed in a snarl. “You were harming Nick.”
“We weren’tharminghim!” Ios denied with an agitated tail lash, somehow interspersed with a hook. The exact meaning of a violent hook eluded Nick. “He attacked us, and we did no more than necessary to restrain him.”
“His scent was drenched in pain!” Kit’s chains snapped as he tried to rise. A growl was beginning deep in his chest.
Nick cast his gaze from Kit to the men they faced. They weren’t outright antagonistic, and Nick suspected that if Kit calmed, they might even be prepared to release him. Despite the manner in which they’d been taken here, Ios’s friendly overtures had continued. And they continued despite a broken nose.
“It’s my back,” Nick said.
Kit froze.
“It was brushing against the wagon wall on the uneven ground,” Nick explained, though perhaps Kit had somehow sensed Nick’s panic at the situation that the pain had piled upon. “And when they restrained me, I was on my back too.” And actually, as Nick thought about it, despite the fact that he’d thrown punches and kicks, he’d not had a single one thrown back at him.
Kit’s tail curled in, shameful realisation in his eyes. “Seche, can you call a healer?”
“I can,” Seche agreed.
Ios cast Seche a sulky look. “I am more than competent. If you would give me leave to use my skills for once, I can –”
“I’m not listening to you whine about this again.”
“Excellent.” Ios strode towards Nick as if he’d been given permission and not denied. Seche stared at the back of Ios’s head, something heated in his dark eyes, though he apparently decided against arguing.
Ios freed Nick’s hands with a tug on the bows he’d tied. His hands were just released when the door opened.
A kit in the same outfit as Seche entered the room, though unlike Seche, who shone in polish, this man’s armour was covered in dust, making the dark leather look washed out. His blue cloak was a beautiful, deep shade, though mud crept up the bottom hem, splashed all the way to mid-knee. Nick guessed the man to be in his forties, and a glimpse at the shape of his features was all he needed to see a familial relation to Kit. The man had the same hooded, almond-shaped eyes as Kit, the same straight nose, though where Kit’s jaw and fine cheekbones made him look like a delicacy, this man’s broadened to make him look fierce.
Ios and Seche inclined their heads towards the new kit. Kit looked at him head-on.
The newcomer examined Kit at length before he inclined his head to Kit the way that all in the room had towards him.
“General Valor,” Seche greeted. “We were just determining…” He hesitated before continuing in a level voice. “We were just determining.”
“I wager from the state of my men that you are under orders?” Valor stepped into the room. A kit followed him inside with a chair, placing it opposite Kit for Valor to sink into. His tailwas dark green, the same shade as Anna’s, and scarred almost the entire way up one side.
“The state of us is due to… Your name is Nick?” Ios met his eyes and hooked his tail in that friendly manner.
Valor’s attention moved towards him as well. “Did I order a second brought to me?” he asked. There must have been a hidden rebuke in the word because Ios hunched his shoulders.
“I found him in Kit’s quarters, heavily scent-marked,” Ios explained. “I thought it might be, unwise”—his eyes flashed to Kit and quickly away again— “to leave him behind.”
Valor hummed, and again it must have held in it a missive Nick didn’t understand because Ios relaxed. Valor’s gaze slid over Nick assessingly, his attention lingering on Nick’s tattooed arms. His gaze found the same mark that Kit had recognised what felt like so long ago, a patch of symbols on his inner left forearm. A twitch in Valor’s otherwise controlled tail was all that betrayed an emotional response.
“Council teams are returning with their stolen witches. None have made it past us, though none were skilled enough for the task even if they had made it to Aridia.” As Valor spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Nick’s wrist. “Desre was the only one to go in person. The only one bold enough to steal a student from Vi herself. She has brought the ire of the merfolk upon us all, and I see it was not without purpose.” Valor turned to Kit, who had been watching him as he spoke, wary. “I presume she made you do it.”
Kit’s chin slid down in the tiniest of nods.
