Page 77 of All the Wandering Light

It wouldn’t work, though. There was no chance I would be able to sleep, not with Esha lurking and my thoughts of River and the star and the binding spell making my head whirl. We’d made it to the Three Cities, but what were we going to do next? I thought about rising again, to go to Lusha’s room and work out a plan. But my face seemed to be glued to the pillow. I had barely a second to note how long it had been since I’d lain in a proper bed before sleep took me.

Twenty-Five

WHEN I AWOKE, it was early twilight, and the room was swathed in pale shadow. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. I lifted my head, blinking, as the memories came trickling back. The bed smelled of lilies. A lock of hair fell across my face, and I grimaced. I didn’t smell anywhere near as pleasant as the bed.

A fragment of a dream lingered. I had been soaring above a moonlit mountain range, held aloft by vast, silver wings. Only geese could fly that high, but in my dream I was not a goose, nor was I myself. Ahead of me rose towering plumes of white cloud, and I dove inside them, reveling in the sensation, like the brush of cool silk. Everything was white and ethereal, apart from glimpses of blue sky where the clouds tore.

I shivered. The dream had been unusually vivid. I couldn’t recall ever having one like it, and that made me uneasy.

I put the dream out my mind. I was starving, but I had no idea how one went about requesting food in the emperor’s palace. Someone—a servant, I assumed—had visited the room since I’d fallen asleep, for my boots and chuba were gone, and clean clothing had been placed across the back of a chair. There was also a decanter of water on a table.

I rose, stretching. My body ached in a way it hadn’t before. More likely, I had simply failed to notice it.

When had I last rested? Truly rested, not snatched a few hours of sleep in a tent battered by wind or snow? I couldn’t remember.

Ragtooth slept at the foot of my bed, perfectly round, his tail a blanket for his face. When had he appeared? I hadn’t seen him since we’d left Sasani Forest. He didn’t stir when I sat up.

Something nagged at me—a feeling of being watched. “Azar-at?”

Yes, Kamzin.

The fire demon emerged from beneath the bed. The sense of calm evaporated.

Do you need something?

“No,” I said quickly. “I just . . . wanted to see if you were there.”

I am always here.

“Right.” The creature was incongruous against the palace luxury, its smoke-fur brushing the silky blankets, its large paws resting on jade-studded tiles. “Has anyone come to check on me?”

River. Tem. Lusha. Servants.

“River was here?”

Yes. The fire demon’s tail wagged. Then he left.

I had the impression that this fact disappointed Azar-at, but, as usual, it was impossible to be certain if I was imagining it. I said, “Stay here. I’m going to have a bath.”

Yes, Kamzin.

The bathing room was, as I had guessed, behind the door across from the bed. It was an expansive space. Towels and soaps waited on a table beside an enormous bath cut into the stone floor. The water flowed from golden taps, and it was hot, filling the room with steam. I tried not to linger, being eager to return to Tem and Lusha, but I couldn’t resist. I scrubbed myself from head to toe and carefully removed the bandage on my shoulder. The wound was crusted with dried blood, but it didn’t appear infected. Someone had left clean bandages by the edge of the bath, and I applied them carefully, wincing.

Ragtooth padded into the room. He lowered his head over the bath to drink, encountered bubbles, and sneezed.

I eyed the fox. “How did you get into the palace? Climb in through the window?”

Ragtooth occupied himself with washing his nose. Against the finery of the bathing room, it struck me how much mangier he had become since leaving Azmiri. But, I told myself, that was to be expected—the journey had taken a toll on all of us.

“You clearly need this as much as I do.” Before he could flee, I seized the fox around his belly and dunked him in the water.

Several bite marks later, I placed Ragtooth, thoroughly scrubbed and dripping, back on the edge of the bath. Sodden, he appeared barely a quarter of his original size. He fixed me with a baleful look, clearly plotting revenge.

“You’re welcome,” I said. Unable to resist, because he looked so small and mournful, I tickled his belly, drawing my hand back just in time to avoid his teeth.

Once I was clean, I wrapped myself in a towel and wandered back to my room.

To my astonishment, two servants were waiting for me. One held a tray containing a comb and several vials of what looked like oil.