“Clehame.” The healer bowed her head, but did not try to get to her feet. She impatiently waved away an offer of cakes from the maid. “The girl—Tris?—she tried to tell me she was leaving soon as well. I let her know she won’t be leaving that bed for at least a week—more, if she tasks herself.”
Sandry firmed her lips, which tried to tremble and make her look like a pouting child. “As my sister, she will have the finest care money can buy,” she informed the healer.
“Hmph,” replied the woman. “Not much family resemblance. But it is as I have told you. She asks to see the three of you. She will not take the sleeping medicine until she sees you, so please, attend to her immediately, so she will sleep.”
Chastened, the three young mages filed into Tris’s room, Chime riding on Daja’s shoulder. Once inside, they all stopped to stare. One of Tris’s arms and one of her legs was bound to slats and covered in tightly wrapped bandages. Splintered fingers and toes had their own wooden supports secured with white linen. All of her braids hung loose. The lingering tracks of the healer’s magic were evident on Tris’s skull and body. None of them had ever seen anyone so badly hurt that they weren’t on their feet in a few days, given a good healer.
Tris looked naked without her spectacles, which had been smashed in her fall. Sandry went to Tris’s writing box and took out one of the spare pairs of spectacles that lay with the pens and ink sticks. Carefully she settled them on Tris’s nose, taking care to touch none of the bruises on Tris’s face. “At least your nose wasn’t broken,” she whispered.
Tris raised the unbroken arm and laid her splinted hand on Sandry’s. Her magical voice, while exhausted, was not as faint as her battered form might lead them to expect. Don’t put off leaving for me, she told them, her magical voice reaching Briar and Daja as well. You meant to go day after tomorrow—go. Don’t risk getting stuck here.
We’re not leaving you, Sandry retorted, her chin sticking out. Don’t be ridiculous.
Don’t you be ridiculous! Tris snapped in reply, her thought-voice as stern and forceful as pain and drugs would allow. I can catch up once I’m able to ride. I move faster alone than you will in a group. And when I go, I’ll have cooked up a shield that will return any ill wishes and curses to the sender, whether I see them coming or not. But the longer you put off going, the more they’ll be able to put in your way. Right now they seem to think I’m the biggest threat. They have no idea how dangerous you all are. That will help you. Take Zhegorz and Gudruny and the children and go, now.
“I don’t want to say it,” Briar said aloud, “but she makes sense.”
“I hate it when she does that,” added Daja.
Sandry glared at them. Apparently Daja and Briar had yet to reopen their connection to each other, though obviously they had renewed their ties to Tris and Sandry.
This is no time for jokes! she shouted.
“Oh, there’s always time for jokes,” Briar replied with his sweetest smile.
The healer’s male assistant opened the door. “She says to come out.” He walked over to the bed and picked up a cup of dark liquid. “And she says you will drink this.”
“Go home,” croaked Tris. “I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”
“We’ll do it,” Briar assured Tris. He leaned down and kissed her unbruised forehead. “You’ve got a good plan there. Get better.”
“I’ll be happy to leave as soon as possible, Rizu or no,” Daja added, kissing the top of Tris’s head carefully. “Don’t mind Sandry. She only goes on Her Nobleness when she’s frightened.” She followed Briar out of the room.
Tris looked at Sandry. The healer cleared his throat.
“I feel like I’m deserting you,” Sandry explained, looking at the floor.
“Try feeling like you’re using common sense,” Tris suggested quietly. “That’s what I do when I’m doing what I think is right.” She swallowed the medicine. The healer set the cup aside and steered Sandry out of the room, closing the door behind them. A last look at Tris showed Sandry that her eyelids were shut. She was already asleep.
Sandry lowered the lid on her last trunk and locked it, then nodded permission for the footman to take it away. She wondered if she ought to look in on Tris one last time. Tris had barely woken for two days, steeped in the spells of three healers. Sandry, Briar, and Daja had already said their good-byes to her around midday. Somehow Sandry doubted Tris would be up at dawn to wave good-bye to their small caravan of three mages, Gudruny and her children, Zhegorz, and the ten men-at-arms Ambros had detailed to escort her to the border.
Sandry looked at Ambros, who sat in her window seal reading an account book. “I wish you wouldn’t send those ten guards with me,” she told her cousin. “You need them back home and we’ll move faster without them.”
“It would look shabby if we sent you off without,” Ambros said in his dry way. “I will not let it be said that I failed in my duty to you.”
Sandry shook her head and took a folio of advocate’s papers from the bed. She gave it to Ambros. “They’re properly witnessed and sealed. The advocate filed copies with the clerks of the Court of Law here and for Landreg district. It’s what I said I’d do. You’ll never have to send me a set allowance every year again. Before you send a coin to me, you’ll see to any repairs and improvements on the estate.”
“The empress will still tax me. I’m not the landholder, so I cannot contest the taxation in court. And I won’t be able to free other brides like Gudruny, because I am not her liege lord,” Ambros pointed out.
“Do as the advocate suggests in there”—Sandry pointed to the folio—“and double-list all the unmarried women of my estates on your own lands, so you can declare yourself their liege lord. He says it should withstand a challenge in a court of law. It’s expensive, but you can take the money from what you would send to me for that purpose, with my blessing.” Sandry twisted her handkerchief. “Cousin, if I put off my escape, sooner or later the empress will find a way to keep me here. I can’t allow that. I have duties in Emelan, as she well knows. I’ve told her I will not stay. I will not give way to that famous imperial will. Uncle needs me, and you are a far better landlord than I could be. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
Ambros was about to reply when a maid rapped on the open door. “Forgive me, Clehame, Saghad, but a man has come to call on the clehame. He says to tell her only that it is Shan.”
“He plays a risky game,” Ambros murmured as he stood to go.
Sandry got to her feet, shaking out her skirt. “I will see him in the small sitting room,” she ordered. As the maid went off to do as she was told, Sandry went into the dressing room to inspect her appearance. Her gowns were an arrangement of two shades of blue that made her eyes brighter. She tucked a strand of hair away and pinned a sheer white veil over her head, then bit her lips gently to make them look redder.
I don’t know why I’m doing this, she thought. After the way he’s lied to me. Making me think ... well! I’ll at least give him a piece of my mind!
Shan stood by the window when she came in at a bustling pace, her chin up, her hands folded in front of her. When he turned and bowed she caught herself admiring his broad shoulders and warming to his kind smile. Stop that! she ordered herself. He’s played you like a fish on the line—start acting less, less damp!
“Sandry, they told me you’re leaving.” Two steps brought Shan up to her. Before she realized his intentions, he wrapped his strong arms around her and kissed her, slowly and sweetly. When she tried to pull away, he simply deepened his kiss. Finally, when they were both breathless, he drew back to whisper, “Don’t go. Stay here. Marry me. You like me, you know you do. I think I would make a wonderfully amusing husband.”