Gaius could heal such an injury.
She bit her lip. She was a Cursor of the First Lord. He had given her a task, and it was her duty to see it through. Even if it cost her life.
Even if it cost Bernard's life.
The thought made Amara's knees feel suddenly weak with dread and simultaneously brought up a burst of anger that burned in her chest. Had she not already done enough? Had she not already given more than enough? She had fought the Crown's enemies tooth and bloody nail. She had overcome creatures of nightmare and men of cruel and destructive means as a Cursor, and her body bore more than one scar received in the line of duty. Had she not done enough for the First Lord that he would ask her to sacrifice the man she loved, too?
It would be easy to stop. She had only to tell Gaius that his fever demanded him to take action to save his own life. Or, if that was not enough, it would be laughably simple to ensure that an infection spread to his wound. All she had to do was be careless for a moment, with a single cleaning, a single slip of the bandages. Gaius could heal himself, heal Bernard, and they could all leave this hideous place.
She thought, for a moment, of a lifetime without Bernard. Without ever again knowing his touch, hearing his voice. Without ever again sleeping beside him, waking in the circle of his arms, knowing beyond any doubt that she was desired, treasured. Loved.
Her husband touched her chin with gentle fingers, and she looked up at him. His eyes, though shadowed with pain, were almost invasively aware. She had no doubt at all that he had guessed the direction of her thoughts.
"What do I do?" she whispered.
He was silent for a moment, before he rumbled, "What your heart tells you is right. As always."
She bowed her head, feeling the burn of impotent, shamed tears in her eyes. She refused, absolutely refused, to let them fall.
She looked up at him again, and said, "We'll walk to the next tree."
Chapter 33
Tavi looked up at the evening sky and grimaced at the cheerily shining stars. He would have preferred pitch darkness for the raid. Such conditions made it virtually impossible for any kind of organized activity, but considering that Kitai could see in the dark, his own small group would have been at far less of a disadvantage than the forces of the civic legion, the Grey Guard, and any other troops who might be in position in the capital.
Granted, the deceptive shadows and sourceless glow of starlight could be worse than pure darkness when it came to aiming at a target, but Tavi would vastly have preferred a night so stygian as to prevent him from becoming a target in the first place.
"Staring out the window isn't going to make the time pass any more quickly," Ehren observed.
Tavi turned from the window of his room at the boardinghouse and gave Ehren a very direct look.
I'm just saying," Ehren said, spreading his hands.
Tavi sighed and paced over to his bed. It was after midnight, and the rest of the house had been asleep for hours. Araris was stretched out on one bed, fully dressed, snoozing. Ehren, in his chair by the door, was patiently sewing a new hem on one of the evening's disguises, his needle moving smoothly and steadily.
Tavi sat down on his bed, drew his sword from its scabbard, and got out his whetstone. He spat on it, and began stroking the sword's edge with focused, deliberate movements.
After a little while, Araris turned his head, opened one eye, and said to Tavi, "Give over, man. If it isn't sharp by now, it's never going to be."
"All this criticism had better not be setting a pattern for the evening," Tavi growled.
Araris turned to Ehren, and said, "Don't take any offense, Sir Ehren. He's always been the sort to start running his mouth when he gets worried about something. It usually got him into one kind of trouble or another."
"I know what you mean," Ehren responded. "There was this one time in class during our final examination…"
Tavi let out a disgusted sigh and rose. "I'm going to see if the ladies need anything." He strode to the door, ignoring Ehren's grin, and went to the room down the hall. He knocked quietly, and said, "It's me."
Isana opened the door, smiling. "Come in, dear."
Tavi returned her smile and hoped it didn't look as tense as he felt. "Thank you."
Inside the room, Kitai sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed in dark, closely fit clothing. She was carefully coiling a slender rope. She looked up at Tavi and smiled. "Chala. Is it time to leave already?"
"Not yet," Tavi admitted.
"Then why are you here?" she asked.
Tavi scowled. "Ehren and Fade didn't like the way I was running my mouth."
Kitai put down her rope, stared at him for a second. Then she turned to Isana. There was another moment of silence, and both of them burst out into…
Into giggles.
Kitai and Isana-his mother-were giggling.
He blinked at them for a moment. Then scowled more deeply, and demanded, "What?"
Their giggles became a regular gale of bubbling laughter, and Isana actually had to sit down on the bed.
Tavi felt his scowl deepen. "Tonight is hardly a laughing matter."
They laughed themselves breathless, and as Tavi grew more frustrated, a single glance at him was enough to send them into fresh bursts of merriment. It wasn't until Isana sat with her hands pressed against her stomach and tears in her eyes that it finally began to die down.
"I'm glad someone's enjoying themselves tonight," Tavi said. "Is everything ready?"
"I believe so," Isana said, her voice still quavering slightly.
"All the pieces of your plan are ready to go, Aleran," Kitai said, nodding. "Not that there is much point in all this preparation."
"Oh?" Tavi asked. "Why not?"
"Because it will not work out the way you expect," she said calmly.
Tavi frowned at her. "You've seen the plans, the guards' positions, the defenses. If you thought it wasn't going to work, why didn't you say anything yesterday?"
"The plan is good," Kitai said. "You did not miss anything."
"Then why would you think it's going to go wrong?"
"Because it always does." Kitai smiled at him. "It is the nature of life. Something unexpected happens. Something goes wrong, and the plan must change."
"If that happens," Tavi said, emphasizing the first word very slightly, "then we'll adapt."
"Tell me this," Kitai said. "In your plans, why did you not tell us what Varg was going to do?"
Tavi grimaced at her. "There's no way of knowing," he said. "I think he'll cooperate, but…"
Kitai nodded her head in satisfaction, gathered up her coils of rope and put them in a leather case on her belt. "Just so long as you know that tonight will not go to plan."
"Pessimist," Tavi said.
"Tavi," Isana said, "were the coldstones sufficient?"
He still couldn't believe that his mother had helped Kitai burgle a dozen restaurants in the dead of night. "They should be," he said. "I'm more worried about the armor. It's close, but it isn't perfect."
"One can hardly expect to acquire custom-made, counterfeit suits of armor in two days," Kitai replied. "Not even here in the capital."
"I know, but…" Tavi sighed. "There's no way we're getting inside once the alarm is raised."
"We have made the best preparations we can, Aleran," she told him. "There is no sense in letting it worry you at this point."
"Probably," he said.