"This doesn't make us friends," Nova said through gritted teeth.
Jeorge paused in bandaging her fingers; her grapple with the Angel spy had left them torn and bleeding, though she hadn't noticed in the chaos.
"What makes you say that?" he asked, resuming his work. He had already treated her other wounds, and she was eager for him to finish with these so she could escape him. He had been the only one available to treat her, much to her disgust, but the castle-hired physicians were overrun with wounded soldiers and the Unspoken medics had no small job on their hands either.
"You keep giving me that look," she said, "Like you're waiting for me to say something."
She looked over at Grace, who was still sitting beside her brother in the Unspoken section of the makeshift Medica. Her face was stained from crying. Jordan, on the other hand, stared vacantly ahead, a small green flame burning in his palm. He watched it like he expected it to vanish at any moment. His entire left arm was red with dried blood. The only sign of life from him since his magic had returned was a slow shuffle to sit beside his tutor's bed, even as his aura was rioting with so many emotions Nova couldn't keep up.
"I am," Jeorge said. "Though apparently not what you think I'm expecting you to say."
Nova tore her eyes from Grace. She jerked her chin up. "Fine then. What are you hoping I'll say?"
"Who do you think the spy was from?"
"That's a stupid question and we both know it." Nova shuddered as an image of her uncle's face flashed into her mind, followed by a replay of the fight with the spy. She had notified Harkenn of his presence, but had no idea what had become of him. She didn't particularly care, either.
"Not necessarily," Jeorge replied. "I find it very hard to believe that a Caelum-trained spy couldn't have found his way out of this castle by himself if the need arose. Their job depends on speedy getaways. Don't you think he might have scouted every possible exit before setting foot in this place?"
Nova scowled, but couldn't find a fault in Nerahardt's logic. There was no good reason a well-trained spy wouldn't have been able to find a way out, which either meant he wasn't a good spy, or he had come back specifically for her. He hadn't been sent to kill her, then; an assassination would never have been so drawn out. He would have cut her throat while he had the advantage of surprise. He had been trying to take her somewhere, then. Or to someone.
"See?" Jeorge said, clearly seeing it dawn on her. "So... Who sent him? I doubt your uncle expected him to get you out of the city without being caught. But a meeting place, maybe. A safehouse for an ally."
"Why would Lucifer want me out of the city?" Nova said, "There's no way he'd want me back."
"Which means whoever wanted you, for whatever reason, is still in the city."
Nova glanced around the room again, not wanting Jeorge to see how hunted she felt. She was relieved to find Grace crossing the room to her – an escape.
"Hi," Grace said, then to Jeorge a somewhat colder, "Well met."
Jeorge took the hint and limped away with one last meaningful look at Nova.
"How is he?" Nova asked, meaning Jordan, though it felt a little strange to be asking. Grace had been one of the first people to care how she was in a very long time, and Nova didn't want to look ungrateful by never returning the favour. Even if she barely knew Jordan, she knew that how he was affected how Grace was, and that was close enough for her.
She didn't remember when she'd become such a sap.
"He won't talk," Grace said. She looked back over her shoulder, sniffing deeply. "He just keeps staring."
"Any sign that Yddris is waking up?" This, Nova did have a stake in. Aside from Grace, Yddris was the only person she could call an ally in the castle walls. She didn't count Jeorge. Jeorge always had ulterior motives, like every other one of her kind she'd ever met.
"No," Grace replied. She settled herself on the table Nova perched on, a little distance apart in case anyone was paying attention; though Nova didn't think anyone was. "I asked Nika what was wrong. Apparently if you overuse magic it really takes it out of you. It's sheer exhaustion. He must have been fighting like a machine." Her eyes brimmed again. "I just...it's so complicated. So many things can go wrong. You use too much, and you end up like Yddris. Someone takes it away, and...god, I never want to see Jordan like that again."
"Like what?"
"He was...gone. He looked broken. Like he didn't recognise me. He started tearing his own shoulder to pieces, did you see?"
Nova frowned and glanced over at the boy again, who hadn't moved. She tried to imagine what it would be like to lose connection to magic, but she had had that connection all her life and couldn't. Angels had no equivalent to the Gift, because they were born to it. The whole concept was distant from her.
"I've spent weeks praying for him to lose that Gift somehow," Grace mumbled. "And now I'm so glad he's got it back. Isn't that crazy?"
They both looked up and shuffled further apart as the foyer filled up with people beyond the doors. They weren't soldiers; they looked to be civilians, accompanied by the Unspoken who were still on their feet, carrying supplies. Several women of the nearest Medica had arrived with the group, and there was one girl who pushed her way to the front and ran across the hall on light feet. She was silver-haired with light brown skin, and she was heading for Jordan. Nova felt Grace tense and then get to her feet, hovering uncertainly, as the girl knelt beside Jordan, and it was only then that Nova noticed the shadow-runner perched on her shoulder.
Grace crossed the room, and to avoid Jeorge, Nova followed. She was too tired to discuss the spy now. Too tired to even think about her uncle and his mad plans.
"I found her on the stairs," the girl was saying as they approached. Jordan had finally moved, bundling the shadow runner up in his arms, breathing hard. "She was carrying this in her mouth."
Something silver glinted in Jordan's hand, and Nova leaned in for a closer look. It was a chain with pendant on it, a crescent moon with a small carven dagger balanced between its points. Nova had never seen it before; it wasn't a symbol for any of the religious Houses, nor was it Caelumese, as far as she was aware. Jordan turned it over with his thumb, but the back was smooth.
"Have we met?" Grace asked the girl, who had her hand on Jordan's shoulder. Grace's tone wasn't quite friendly.
"Oh. I'm Laurel. Well met." They grasped elbows, and Grace's face lightened a little.
"Oh, were you at the inn Jordan went to?"
"I was." Laurel smiled at Jordan, who didn't appear to notice, too distracted with his shadow-runner. She was wriggling on her back in his lap, accepting tummy rubs and making squeaking noises. His aura had calmed considerably. "Though he hasn't come to visit much."
Jordan looked up, startled at first, and then he reddened. It was hard to see under the bruising on his face, but he looked embarrassed. Someone had secured his broken nose with some gauze and length of bandage and cleaned up the cuts on his cheeks, but he still looked ghastly, the dried blood from a head injury showing up stark in his white hair.
"Things got busy," he said. His voice was muffled from the dressings, and he still sounded somewhat hollow. "And then mad. And then fucking awful."
Grace and Laurel looked at each other, and something passed between them. Nova tried to ignore the clench in her stomach at being left out, at Laurel sharing something with Grace that Nova didn't.
She paused. She never got jealous; a decade of it getting her nowhere had taught her how to ignore it.
Only she was this time.
"Where's your cloak?" Laurel asked. Grace blinked as if she had only just noticed it was missing, and Nova frowned.
Jordan reddened further. "I...lost it. While I was escaping."
The lie showed up in his aura, and Nova had a suspicion it was to do with the Devils. She kept her mouth shut, and showed nothing on her face when Jordan's eyes met hers. He looked quickly back down at his lap.
Grace had started a quiet conversation with Laurel; all her initial hostility was gone. Ignoring the spike of envy she felt, Nova tuned out and went to squat at the other side of Yddris's bed. The Unspoken was out cold, aura flat aside from the characteristic crackle of every Unspoken. It unnerved her to see the man laid out like that; in all the time she had known him, he was always on the move. She had never seen him sleep. He was so efficient at his job that it was sometimes hard to believe that he ever did.
"It's my fault," Jordan croaked, without looking up. "That he's like this. I went out there to warn them about that...thing." His hand flitted to his bandaged shoulder. "He had to save me, because I couldn't defend myself. Built this huge wall out of just magic." Awe had crept into his voice.
"He's very skilled." Nova crossed her arms over her bent knees, studying him over his tutor's bed. She could tell he knew she was watching him, but he refused to look up at her and his stubbornness made her smirk. "He'll teach you well."
"Mm." Jordan's tone was hard to read. The cracks in his aura showed stark.
Sensing she wasn't going to get anything else from him, Nova straightened and looked around, and tried not to show her dismay as Lord Harkenn caught her eye from the steps and beckoned her over. She dragged her feet; Grace looked as though she might stop her, then spotted Faellian and quickly looked away.
"It's dead," Faellian said as soon as she was in earshot.
"My lord?" She couldn't get her mind to make the connection. There had been too much going on.
"The Angel." He sniffed. "Tomorrow you're going to look at the body."
Nova opened her mouth to point out that she didn't need to, since it was pretty apparent how the Angel had died, but decided against it at the look on his face. It was a rare thing for the lord to look dishevelled, but Faellian had an almost wild look to him, hair in disarray and hands unable to stay still. He was shaken, she realised; genuinely shaken by the demon attack, and probably not helped along by the fact that half the criminals in the Reach had broken in through the back door while he was distracted.
Lady Kerrin, the head of House Kiel, hurried down the steps towards them. A small group of yellow-robed acolytes hurried past her in little flock carrying armfuls of medical supplies.
"Faellian," she said. "What happened?"
"That I would love to know," Harkenn muttered. "Has there been any unusual activity in the city itself?"
"No." Kerrin surveyed the wounded in the hall with wide eyes. "All the demons came here. I don't think our nets were tested once."
If anything, Harkenn looked even more worried. "This was targeted, then."
Kerrin had her fingers over her mouth, and at this she looked sharply up at him. "You think someone can control them?"
"Control," Harkenn muttered, dropping his voice as several of his guards marched past, "Or they at least know how to influence their behaviour. Direct them or madden them as a distraction. I've been informed that my castle has been broken into by every other known criminal faction in my absence, and one of them must know something."
He was looking at Nova, who felt something heavy sink into her stomach. She would be involved in whatever investigation Faellian thought up; that she was sure of. The last thing she wanted was to get dragged into a Caelumese conspiracy, but hoping she wouldn't was like hoping the wind would stop blowing. It was inevitable.
"What's the status of the boy?" he asked her. "Is he speaking yet?"
"Very little, my lord," she said, still preoccupied with the nightmare on the horizon for her. Jeorge's words echoed in her head; the spy had been intending to do something with her, and now he was dead she'd never know what it was. She may well have been involved already without even realising. Then she scoffed at herself; she was the disgraced niece of the Caelumese leader. Of course she'd been involved already. "He seems very shaken."
"I need him to speak," Harkenn muttered, a twitch in his eyelid, gaze boring into the back of Jordan's head. His aura was thoughtful. With a sharp flick of his hand to indicate that Nova should follow, he stalked across the room, bearing down on the hunched figure like some pale demon. Grace spotted him and squeaked before dipping into a curtsey. Much more calmly, Laurel did the same beside her. Just before the lord reached Yddris's bedside, Nika appeared to smoothly intercept him.
"Is there something the matter, my lord?" he asked.
Faellian's mouth pinched like he'd eaten something foul. "Is that a serious question? I want to speak to the boy. And why isn't he covered up?"
"He lost his cloak in the chaos," Nika said.
"Difficult to do," Faellian retorted, "is it not?"
Nova glanced at Nika's cloak. It would indeed be difficult to lose an Unspoken cloak without taking it off on purpose; it was clasped all the way down, closely tailored to the torso, with a double clasp on the thick collar at the throat.
"My lord," Grace interrupted, and looked as surprised as anybody else that she'd said anything, but she ploughed on. "His cloak was already undone while we were treating his wounds from the demon. He was attacked afterwards by the...by the..." Her eyes welled.
Jordan finally seemed to have registered that something was happening behind him. He looked round, visibly startled to find Harkenn there, and scrambled to his feet. Laurel and Nika caught him as he swayed, eyes unfocused.
"My study," Faellian said sharply. "Now."
"My lord," Nika said, "I don't think he is able to...."
"It's fine." Everyone fell silent as Jordan spoke. His voice was rough. He wouldn't meet anyone's eye, and his aura was thick with shame. "I can get there. Will you tell me if Yddris wakes up?"
"Of course," Nika said, startled. "But..."
But Jordan had already dragged his feet to Harkenn's side and pretended not to hear.
"My lady, would you be so kind as to oversee this while I step out?" Harkenn said as they met the Lady Kerrin on the steps again.
"Of course." Her curious gaze followed Jordan out of the doors, but the Unspoken boy's eyes remained firmly on his feet.
Nova kept an eye on Jordan sidelong as they walked, and knew he was doing the same to her, though every time she glanced at him he looked resolutely ahead. She hadn't been dismissed, which usually meant she was expected to attend, and Haverford was unhappy about it. She smiled to herself; he was going to have to get used to her. Being Lord Harkenn's slave meant getting into a lot of people's business, most of whom didn't want her there. Faellian swept ahead, parting the clusters of gossiping maids and patrolling guards like a knife, not glancing back to check if either of them were following until they reached the study door. He turned, eyes sharp as daggers, and gestured them in. Nova drifted to her chair in the corner and settled in it, and Jordan came to a stop in front of the desk with his head bowed, almost imperceptibly swaying. He was paler than Nova had ever seen him.
"The Devils were here," Harkenn said, snapping the door shut. Jordan flinched.
"Yes, my lord."
"You spoke with them?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And?"
Jordan raised his eyes as Faellian sat down in his chair. His fists clenched at his sides. "I did as you asked, my lord."
"Did they suspect anything?"
"Not that I could see."
"Good." Faellian's stance relaxed a little. "At least one thing went right. It may be a long shot, but was there any indication that they were linked with the creature that attacked you?"
"I don't think they are, my lord," Jordan said, "They seemed just as surprised as I was. They...saved my life."
Any relaxing on Faellian's part was instantly undone as he sat bolt upright in the chair. "Night take me, boy, don't tell me you already owe them a life debt. What kind of idiot..." He stopped, sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Nova watched Jordan's aura curiously; there was more to it than he was letting on. At the same time, she pitied him. She hadn't pitied anyone more than herself in a long time, but she wouldn't even have taken her wings back in exchange for Jordan's predicament. "Never mind. Better than winding up dead." He paused, and then said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "Sit down, boy."
Jordan looked as startled as Nova felt, but was quicker to recover. He collapsed into a chair. Nova stared at the back of the lord's head until he twitched and snapped, "Is something interesting back there?"
He glared over his shoulder, and she averted her gaze.
"Don't get used to it, boy," Faellian muttered. For a long moment they all sat in silence, Nova holding her breath. Then Faellian filled two glasses with apple wine from a decanter on the desk and pushed one over to Jordan, who stared at the lord like he'd grown another head, before snapping out of it and accepting the glass with a quiet thanks. He took a measured sip and then put it down, and Harkenn snorted. "Your tutor would have drained that in two seconds flat." He cocked his head. "He will recover, yes?"
"Nika said it was overexertion, my lord," Jordan said, and the suspicion running through his aura was also present in his voice despite his efforts to conceal it. "He was protecting me."
"There's a theme here," Faellian said sourly. Jordan's face flushed and he looked down at his lap, hands twisting around each other and the shame swallowing all else. "I will only say this once, boy, so mark me. These are hard times. Harder than I have seen in a long while. You cannot rely on others to save you every time." He held up a finger as Jordan opened his mouth to speak. "I am expecting you to work hard; that was part of the deal. You are not training fast enough. And if today showed you anything," his voice turned hard, "you should know that nowhere is truly safe. Not for anybody. If you want to be there for others," and everyone in the room knew who he meant, "you need to learn to stand on your own two feet. Are we clear?"
Jordan nodded, very slowly. Nova watched, rapt. She had never seen Faellian do anything like this, and didn't expect to again. But one never knew what might prove useful in the future.
"You're wondering why I haven't started threatening you," Faellian continued, a ghastly grin on his face. Jordan didn't reply, only watched, like a prey animal who knew he'd been cornered and was expecting the claws to come out any second. "Frankly, boy, we've been over it enough times. You know what's at stake. But I'm prepared to offer...incentives."
Nova knew what this was now; there was no kindly gesture behind this. After ten years with him, she knew how the lord bargained, and she knew he had been shaken badly by the day's events. This was a manoeuvre to earn the boy's loyalty, nothing more.
After all, there was always a question mark over loyalty once the Devils came into play.
"Incentives, sir?"
"Your sister will receive a tutor in the language," Faellian said. "And she may visit you when she wishes, so long as Yddris supervises you and so long as she is not needed to work. Are there any requests you wish to make?"
To Nova's surprise, Jordan's expression hardened. "One." Faellian gestured, and Jordan forced out, "I want a promise that she'll never be beaten as punishment again."
"Done," Harkenn said. "A tutor, visits, and no more corporal punishment, on the condition that I start seeing significant progress from you. There may be further benefits if you achieve above expectation. Do we have a deal?"
"Yes, my lord." Jordan ducked his head, brashness gone, "Thank you, my lord."
"Yddris will communicate your briefs when I have a job for you," Faellian said. "You may go."
Jordan stumbled to his feet and might have run from the room if he'd been up to it. Nova listened to his footsteps retreat quickly down the corridor, and startled to find Harkenn watching her.
"Do you believe he will tell his sister?" he asked.
"No, my lord." She barely knew Haverford, but that much she could be certain of. "I doubt it."
"Good." His smile widened, and under the unkempt hair and the exhaustion, he looked almost deranged. "Now I wish to discuss your uncle. I'll send for Nerahardt." He got to his feet as Nova's heart plummeted. "I have a job for you both."