Thirty-nine

“Gaeleath?!” 

Marravae’s shout woke him and Gaeleath lifted his head blearily. “Marravae?”

“He’s alive and he’s going to stay that way.” One of the Ladies spoke firmly. “You need to change out of your bloodied gown and then you can rest with him.”

He looked around and saw her in the doorway and offered a smile, “Volas took you back from them?”

“No, my Ladies did. They stormed the palace and rescued me.” She gave him a beaming smile.

“She rescued herself. Merciless Marravae cut Myrin’s throat and left him in a pool of his own blood.” Celaena sounded cheerful. “Let’s all wash and change, your Highness. I think Anrae won’t stop crying until she does.”

He dropped his head back. After a moment he asked no one in particular, “Anrae is crying?”

“She gave Princess Myrae a mortal wound. It wasn’t a clean death.” Erthor came to sit in a chair next to him looking exhausted. “But if I understood correctly, the woman had just murdered her own father with poison on her brother’s command. Prince Myrin got a cleaner death than he deserved.”

“Merin is dead…” Gaeleath took as deep a breath as his painful side would allow.

“Who will be the next King?” Erthor gave him a vaguely curious look. “Will it matter?”

“I’m not sure. I know Merin had a younger brother who died, if he had sons one of them should inherit the kingdom. We are in a very precarious position now. Our countries are unequivocally at war and we are here in their possession. Can my sister ride?”

“She shouldn’t even be walking. I carried her when we had to run.” The old man gave him a rueful smile, “I haven’t carried the girl since she was a babe but fear leant me strength.”

<“You’re paying for it now.”> Ellus chuckled, speaking up in Arek. <“How are you feeling, your Highness?”>

“My side is sore and I feel… weak, exhausted.”

<“You lost a little blood. They’re brewing a strengthening tea for you and your sister downstairs.>

<“If that Cuphisian knew how to use a sword properly that could have been a bad wound. Kept clean and allowed to heal properly you’ll have nothing more than a scar and a nick you may be able to feel on your bottom rib.”>

“What tea?” Erthor asked with an arched brow.

<“Aranth and uricot, a little storm bael.”>

“Have them put in a spoonful of ajamia for sweetness, it lends a little strength as well and have them bring me a cup.” The Cemiri healer nodded.

Ellus grinned, <“Are you children that you need ajamia in the tea?”>

“It isn’t needed but it is appreciated. And we need all the-” Gaeleath rubbed his face with the arm that wasn’t sore and the movement made his breath catch.

<“Don’t lift your arm on that side.”> Ellus scolded sharply and came to check his side.

“We need to leave as soon as possible.”

<“Prince Volas has matters in hand. Riders were sent with orders to bring the armies to us immediately. We are provisioned and the house is secure. Your task is to rest and heal.”> Ellus’ tone brooked no argument.

“I should be writing to my father…”

“Rest.” Erthor commanded firmly. “I will write to him.”

Exhausted, Gaeleath allowed sleep to pull him back down.