“I’ve a suggestion about that,” Rule said, moving ahead of Lily so he could hug Cynna lightly.
He did that sort of thing easily, naturally. Lily wished it had occurred to her to hug Cynna. “Go ahead.”
“Max.”
Relief bloomed. “Of course. He claims he’s immune to mind-magic, so . . . you’ll call him?” Max was surly, lecherous, and train-wreck ugly, though the last was probably because his standard of beauty was wildly different from hers, since he was a gnome. A rather oversize one who for some reason didn’t live underground like his fellows—gnomes were said to be very clever with stone—but a gnome nonetheless.
“He’ll come. He’ll bitch about it endlessly, but he’ll come.” Rule smiled at Cynna, his arm around her vanished waist. “You’re doing okay.”
“Sure.” She glanced at the bed and its sleeping occupant. “Sleeping Beauty doesn’t look so hot right now, but Nettie says he’s hanging in there.”
Nettie was on the other side of the hospital bed. She’d barely glanced up when they came in. “He’ll wake in less than ten minutes. When he does, you can talk to him briefly, then I’ll put him under again.”
Lily nodded and moved to the foot of the bed.
The man occupying that bed was hooked up to an IV and a heart rate monitor, which beeped quietly. He was deeply asleep or unconscious. And much too pale.
Cullen Seabourne was the opposite of Max—as breathtakingly gorgeous as the gnome was ugly. Rule was sexier, in Lily’s opinion, and possessed more sheer presence. But Cullen was the kind of gorgeous that makes strangers on the street stop and stare. At the moment, the perfect architecture of Cullen’s bone structure was all too clear. He was pallid, the skin drawn and tight, and naked at least to the waist. A lightweight blanket covered him from there down.
His chest was a ghastly orange-yellow where they’d splashed it with Betadine. The incision to the left of his sternum had been left unbandaged. It was long and punctuated by staples. It looked fresh. She glanced at Nettie. “He hasn’t healed the incision.”
“The intrusion is localized around his heart, but it’s like wolfsbane in one way. It keeps his healing magic tied up fighting it. I can help some with the incision after I’ve rested.” Nettie’s voice was lower and hoarser than normal. She needed sleep almost as much as her patient did.
Lily nodded and made a decision. “Cynna, I should talk to the Rhej about this, but you’re here, so . . . Rule and I were wondering if the one we don’t name could be involved.” The Old One who was the lupi’s most ancient enemy had a name, or maybe several . . . but lupi folklore said she could hear it when her name was spoken.
“Oh. Oh!” Cynna frowned, then shook her head. “I see why you’re wondering. We’ve got an assassin with weird-ass abilities. But whoever he is, he’s not her agent. It’s possible she gave him some help in a roundabout way. We don’t know how much she’s able to do along those lines, but it’s safe to assume she does have some agents here on Earth again. But the rat bastard assassin wasn’t one of them. An agent of hers couldn’t get into Clanhome secretly. The Rhej would know if one tried.” She considered a moment, then added, “The Rho would, too, but he might not recognize what was wrong.”
Rule’s eyebrows lifted. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Sure,” Cynna said. “Clanhome is claimed by the mantle holder, so the mantle knows it. The mantle is from the Lady, and the Lady recognizes her enemy. So the mantle would be aware if one of her agents was in Clanhome. I don’t know how that would feel to Isen, but he would feel something. You might, too.”
This time Lily’s eyebrows lifted. “You know a lot about mantles all of a sudden.”
She shrugged. “It’s stuff from the memories.”
The memories were literally that: incredibly vivid memories of various long-dead Nokolai that had been passed down from Rhej to apprentice for thousands of years. Since many of the memories involved battle and other calamities, there was a lot of pain and fear involved. A lot of stress for a pregnant lady, in other words. “I don’t get why the Rhej changed her mind. She was going to wait on that part of your training until you had the baby.”
“There was a reason not to wait any longer.”
“You’re sounding like a Rhej now. Cryptic.”
Cynna offered a vague, apologetic smile and an equally vague gesture. “I’m not supposed to talk about some stuff.”
Great. Lily dragged herself back on topic. “When you say ‘agent,’ you mean something specific, but I’m not sure what.”
“Someone touched by the enemy. Someone using an object or spell touched or created by her. Uh . . . by touch, I don’t mean physically, but contacted or acted upon.”
“So if she’s involved, it’s indirectly.”
“Real indirectly. Someone like the Great Bitch leaves traces. Take the incognito spell the assassin seems to have used—it couldn’t have come from her. Even if it passed through others before the assassin got it, it would retain something of her energy. The Rhej and the Rho would have reacted to those traces because the Lady would feel them.”
Lily cocked her head. Cynna was sure sounding cozy with the lupi’s Lady. “Are you—”
“He’s waking,” Nettie said crisply. “Rule—?”
Quickly Rule moved beside Nettie and placed one hand on Cullen’s upper shoulder. Nothing happened. Cullen looked as deeply asleep as before—right up until the second his eyes flew open, bright and burning blue.
“Be still,” Rule said firmly. “You’re safe. Cynna’s safe. She’s fine. The baby’s fine. You’ve been hurt.”
Cullen blinked. “No shit,” he said, his voice faint. “Cynna . . .”
She’d taken Cullen’s right hand. “Right here, not a mark on me,” she announced cheerfully. Lily could see the strain in her eyes, but it didn’t show in her voice. “And the little rider seems to like staying up late. He’s frisking around like crazy.”
Cullen’s smile was small, but the relief behind it looked large.
“Cullen,” Nettie said, “I know you’re in a great deal of pain, but I need to know if your wound feels odd in any way.”
Even his scowl looked weak. “Feels like I’ve been stabbed, stomped on, and cut open.”
“Accurate,” Rule said, “except for the stomping.” He swallowed. “Cullen. I didn’t like thinking you were dead.”
The scowl eased to a thoughtful frown. “I came close?”
“You did. There was a magical component of some sort on the blade. It would have killed you if Nettie hadn’t been close, and if the Rhej hadn’t been able to channel power to Nettie. It’s still interfering with your healing. That’s why Nettie asked how your wound felt.”
“Shit.” He paused and lifted his head slightly. “Ow. Shit.” His head fell back. “Can’t see.”
Lily knew why he’d been trying to see the wound. She felt magic. He saw it. That, according to him, was what made someone a sorcerer—the ability to see the energies he worked with. “Are you up to answering a few questions?”
“Gods. You here, too?”
She had to smile. That was such a Cullen thing to say. “Do you have any idea who stabbed you, or why?”
“No. Cynna, lift my head up. Can’t see my chest.”
Nettie shook her head. “Cullen, you’ve had your ribs cracked open and your heart stitched up. You aren’t healing at your normal rate. You’ll stay still and prone, and in a few minutes I’ll put you back in sleep.”
“Need to look,” he insisted. “Find out what’s wrong.”
“Let me see what I can learn.” Lily glanced at Nettie. “If that’s okay?”