Page 153 of The Stolen Throne
I’m getting dizzy with her back and forth, so I step in front of her. “I’m still not following how this means they don’t need doctors here.”
She sighs. “Tomorrow night…that’s for us. Humans.”
For humans.
For…
I gasp at the same time Omma does, and we both look at Tabra. They don’t have doctors or Healers here for a reason. Tropikis is the patron goddess of healing. Did she gift that ability to the dominion’s royal line? Could the Rites save my sister?
I wasn’t able to ask the spirit how to heal her. I chose not to ask. The guilt of choosing everyone else in the world over my own sister has been eating me alive. The relief unfurling in my belly butts up against doubts shouting that nothing is that easy. Especially if it’s something we desperately need.
“What do you think?” I ask Omma.
The lines around her eyes soften, and I think maybe she’s as relieved as I am. “I think we finally got lucky.”
Tabra offers a weak smile. “Now you don’t have to worry about me, Mer.”
I’m not sure I’ll let the worry go completely until we see her fully healed, but at least maybe it won’t continue gnawing at me like sandrats.
We still have to stay ahead of Eidolon, which means not all of us can wait here with Tabra, but she’ll be healed. All the way this time.
Hopefully.
I should probably fill them in now on what I learned and what we have to do—I glance around—just as soon as Reven shows up.
His absence is starting to feel like a hole in the room. The others would have mentioned a problem. Right?
My gaze lands on Horus, who has now removed his mask. He’s sporting an impressive black eye that is already turning green around the edges. “Did you run into trouble?” I indicate the eye with a wave.
“Only with me,” Pella mutters.
Cain grins at her sullen response. So does Hakan, though she doesn’t see it, since he’s behind her. “She hit him when he told us he made you go,” Cain explains.
Huh. I pictured Cain or Reven getting pissed, but her?
Pella mutters again, lower and to herself, but I’m pretty sure I catch the words “too stupid to live” somewhere in there. Behind her, Hakan straightens off the wall, as though backing her up.
I raise a single brow at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about me.”
Her scowl deepens. A tiny part of me feels a little better, a little more grounded at the familiar sight of it. Pella, at least, will never change.
“I am sorry,” I tell the room in general. “It wasn’t Horus’s fault.”
I look to Omma, who doesn’t say anything about how she’s the one who pushed for it in the first place. Which feels about right.
“Was it worth it, at least?” Cain asks.
“I hope so.” How long can he stay mad at me? He’s never been good at holding a grudge, but he doesn’t ease up.
Tziah reaches for me, hands outstretched. Grateful, I take hers, squeezing back, warmth settling in the region of my heart. Warmth that grows and spreads as she lets go and speaks with her gestures. She taps her chest over her heart, then makes a sign that looks like she’s breaking a stick, and I get that one.
“Losing any of you would break my heart, too.” I pause, chewing on the inside of my cheek and debating if I should bring up… “Vida—” I can’t get her name out, my throat closing up.
No one will look at me. Do they blame me? That tightness in my throat becomes a burn.
“Horus told us what happened,” Vos says. He runs a hand over his jaw, still not quite meeting my gaze.
I’ve never seen Vos so grim. Or, come to think of it, quite so pale, even when we first met. His normally deeply black skin has gone gray underneath.
