Around him, the Crochans thrummed with fear and dread. Either for the fight unfolding or the three Matrons who had found them.
Mercifully, Hasar had arrived, cooling her head slightly. But touching the man, thinking of ways to help him …She had not meant to write the list of the last four generations of Towers women. Had not meant to write her mothers name over and over while pretending to record his information. It had not helped with the overwhelming roaring in her head.
Sweating and dusty, Yrene burst into Hafizas office nearly an hour later, the trek from the palace through the clogged, narrow streets, then the endless steps up here, taking an eternity.Shed been late—that had been her first truly unprofessional moment. Shed never been late to an appointment. Yet right at ten, shed found herself in an alcove of the hallway outside his bedroom, hands over her face, struggling to breathe.He hadnt been the brute shed expected.
Hed spoken well, more lord than soldier. Though his body had most certainly belonged to the latter. She had patched up and healed enough of the khagans favored warriors to know the feel of muscle beneath her fingers. The scars covering Lord Westfalls tan skin spoke volumes about how the muscles had been earned the hard way. And now aided him in maneuvering through the world with the chair.And the injury to his spine …
As Yrene halted at the threshold of the Healer on Highs office, Hafiza looked up from where she sat beside a sniffling acolyte.
I need a word, Yrene said tightly, one hand gripping the doorjamb.Ire boiled in his face at that.
She kept her own face cool and hard as she asked, How does that make you feel?His nostrils flared. Dont think you can provoke me into talking.
How does it feel, Lord Westfall?You know how it feels, Yrene.