She looked away, her gaze resting on Cyrus’ pale face, his freckles standing out like targets for the enemy.
“Are you all right?” This time the question came slower from Gaeren’s lips, like he wanted her to assess each word individually before she gave her answer. He would only accept the truth.
“None of us will be after tonight.” She kept her eyes on Cyrus. “But my friend is alive. The weight will grow lighter.” When she glanced at Gaeren, he nodded slowly.
Fresh panic hit her, and she patted at the pocket of her shirt. The vial of blood still sat there, mercifully intact. Shouts rose through the room as Sylmar called the others back in. Velden wrapped seaweed around Sylmar’s hand, and the blackness leached from the injury to the plant.
“Give this to Jasperus,” Velden said, handing a bit of the plant to Cyrus. With all the noise, it took a moment for Aeliana to notice the small door in the room and the quiet pounding that came from behind it.
She stepped forward, placing her ear against the wood.
“Please.” The weak cry sounded feminine, and the soft pounding came again, like the fist of an arm that no longer had the strength to rise off the wood. “Please, help.”
“Mother?” Aeliana called.
The room went silent, on both sides of the door.
“Mother, is that you?”
The pounding turned frantic, the sobs beyond it equally panicked.
Velden rushed to Aeliana’s side, working to pick the lock.
It wasn’t the right time to care, but Aeliana couldn’t help smoothing a hand over her messy braid and down her soiled uniform. Her face felt caked with mud, more likely blood. What would her mother think of her?
When the door opened, a woman tumbled out, her hair short and matted and her dress stained. Still her body remained hale and hearty and her green eyes clear. She trained them on Aeliana as she righted herself, soaking in every detail as Aeliana did the same.
“My baby,” her mother breathed out before wrapping her arms around Aeliana.
Aeliana swallowed around the lump in her throat, unable to respond.
When they pulled back, Aeliana finally understood why the people had stared. She probably got her nose and ears from her father, but her mother’s lips had the same uneven tilt, and her eyebrows held the same downward curve. Her mother’s wrinkles served as the fastest way to tell them apart—until Aeliana caught sight of her mother’s palm. An ugly black bump rose like Miklous’ had.
Her brand.
CHAPTER 82
Gaeren was shoved aside as Sylmar stepped forward, yanking Daisy and her mother apart.
“She’s still branded to Mayvus,” Sylmar said.
“She’s not—she doesn’t always control me,” Emeris said, her gaze still fixed on Daisy. “She has too many brands for that. I can feel the difference when she does. But you’re right. She’ll know you’re here soon.”
“Exactly what you’d say if she was controlling you,” Sylmar muttered. He didn’t waste time pulling out a knife and reaching for her palm.
Without warning, her eyes glazed over and her fist drove into his neck, making him cough and sputter.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her eyes widening with horror. “I’ve tried cutting it out dozens of times over the years, but it’s not possible. That’s something she always has control over.”
Sylmar exchanged a glance with Jasperus before pulling out a vial. “Let’s try the other hand.” He sliced before she could argue, and everyone breathed a little easier when the blood dripped into the vial, sensing the plan might actually work.
Gaeren shifted, exhaustion hitting him fresh now that they’d finally slowed down, and Emeris’ gaze fell on him.
She squinted. “Gaeren? You’ve… well, you’ve grown into a man.” She ignored Sylmar as he healed her palm and stepped away. “How in Rhystahn did you get caught up in all this?”
Her use of his real name instead of “Henri” left him reeling, too distracted by his own questions to answer hers.
“You knew who I was?” he asked. “When I came for my dedication year?”