Chapter 30

A nyka shivered as an iron-cold chill went through her. She looked up from the book she was reading to glance down at Jenny, who was adjusting the fit on the gown Anyka had on. She planned to wear it to the meeting with Queen Sparrow. "What was that?"

"What was what, my lady?" Jenny mumbled through a mouthful of pins. She was kneeling on the floor, working on the hem.

Anyka wanted the length shortened to show off the gold, onyx, and ruby slippers she'd be wearing. They'd cost nearly the year's wages of an average Malveauxian citizen, and she didn't want to waste them by hiding them under a too-long gown. "I felt something."

Jenny shook her head. "I don't know, my lady."

Anyka frowned. "Wyett?"

He came into the dressing room. "My lady?"

"Did you just…hear or feel something?"

He shook his head. "No, my lady. What did you hear?"

She couldn't describe it, really. "It felt as if…someone walked over my grave."

His brows lifted slightly. "I don't know. Perhaps it was…" His gaze shifted to Jenny.

"Speak freely," Anyka said.

"Perhaps it was Evenshade accomplishing the task you set him to."

Anyka thought about that. Wyett was implying that she might have just sensed her mother's spirit being removed from Nazyr. She went back to her book. "Possibly. Find out how that's going, will you?"

With a nod, he was gone.

She stared at the words on the page without seeing them. There was too much on her mind. Like how very different this meeting with Queen Sparrow would be if Hawke succeeded at his mission.

Anyka smiled as that delicious thought curled through her mind. Sparrow would no longer have the upper hand. She would be Anyka's to command. Whatever Anyka demanded of her, Sparrow would have to do if she wanted to see her precious aunt again.

Wouldn't that be something? Unable to contain herself, Anyka laughed.

A loud bang and urgent voices carried in from the front of the apartment. Anyka closed her book and leaned in that direction, trying to hear more.

Wyett came running in. "Your highness, Hawke has been injured."

"What?" She tossed the book aside and strode toward him.

"My lady!"

Anyka glared at her maid, who quickly shut her mouth and bowed her head. Anyka looked at Wyett again. "What happened?"

Wyett shook his head. "I don't know yet. Just that he did not succeed in what he was attempting to do, and he is badly hurt."

This was not what she'd expected. "He failed? Against an old woman?"

"Two old women and a Summerton guard, my lady. The guard was also injured. I don't know his status."

"Nor do I care. Where is Hawke?"

"He should be in his quarters. He was being carried there when I saw him and came back to tell you."

"Go see about Nazyr. I'll check on Hawke myself." She pushed past Wyett and stormed out of the apartment and down the hall.

Hawke's door was open. A footman stood in it, taking orders from Dr. Lockhart. He nodded and turned, nearly bumping into her.

The footman gasped and bowed. "My apologies, your highness."

She shoved him aside. "Out of my way." She went through to the bedroom, where Dr. Lockhart was bent over Hawke, sprawled on the bed. The doctor blocked her view so she could only see his legs. "How is he?"

Dr. Lockhart straightened and faced her, giving her a better glimpse of Hawke. "My lady, he is not well."

Hawke was chalky-white, and a dagger protruded from his chest just below his shoulder. Blood stained the white bedclothes beneath him. She sucked in air. "Is he…"

"No. He lives. Barely. The dagger just missed his heart. I need to stitch him up. I will do my best to save him."

She approached, her focus on Hawke. "You'll do better than that. You will save him, or I'll have your head, do you understand me?"

Dr. Lockhart nodded quickly.

She went around to the other side of the bed and touched Hawke's hand. "Hawke? Can you hear me?"

No movement, no response. Then a quick flicker of his lids. She sat beside him, doing her best to control the panic rising up inside her. "You will not die, Hawke Wickthorne. Do you hear me?" She sniffed. "Although I should kill you myself for letting two old biddies and a mere guard best you."

She squeezed his calloused hand. "Do not die," she whispered. "I need you."

Footmen and a woman in a pristine white robe came into the room. The woman bowed to her. "Your highness, I am Mistress Greer Lacewing, Willow Hall's healer. I will help in whatever way I can."

Anyka nodded and pushed to her feet. The footmen were bringing supplies in. Basins of hot water, clean linens, bandages, vials of ointment, and antiseptic. She turned away, giving Lockhart one last look. "Do your best . Save him."

"I will, your highness." He was unpacking his bag, removing tools.

"I want that dagger when you're done."

"Yes, your highness."

She stepped aside and let him return to Hawke.

A hollowness opened up inside her. This was not according to plan. She needed Hawke. Needed his strength and willingness. Needed his ferocity. She'd hoped to go into the meeting with Queen Sparrow carrying an edge. Anyka had nothing now. Not even Hawke at her side.

Undoubtedly, Sparrow would accuse Anyka of being behind this attack, which she was, but Anyka would deny that. She had to. There was no way yet she could admit her part in this.

They would be at war immediately and that could not happen until Hawke was whole.

She trudged out of the room and into the small sitting room. Wyett stood there. She frowned. "I told you to go see about Nazyr."

He nodded. "Done, my lady. The spirit is gone. He is resting and will need another day or two to recover. Clary is still with him, making sure he eats and gets rest and regains his strength."

"Good. I'll go see him myself."

"What would you have me do?"

A soft moan carried from the bedroom. "Stay here. Report to me as soon as it's over. I want to know his status as soon as possible."

Wyett nodded.

She went directly to Nazyr's room. There was no guard at the door. She knocked.

Clary answered, bowing. "My lady. Come in." She stepped aside.

"Is he awake?"

"Yes. He's eating in the sitting room. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Anyka went through the foyer, smiling as soon as she saw Nazyr. He was in a chair near the fireplace, which had a few glowing embers putting out some warmth. There was a tray over the arms of his chair, with a bowl of soup, a plate of bread and butter, and a cup of tea on it.

His color was better than it had been, but he looked tired, wan, and thinner. He was in a long nightshirt, his feet bare. All very understandable. "Hello, Nazyr."

He looked up from his soup. "Your highness. I am touched by your visit. Forgive my informal state."

"There's nothing to forgive." She sat on the couch. The windows were open to let in fresh air, but the faint mustiness of illness remained.

"Tea, my lady?" Clary asked.

"No. Just leave us."

Clary scooped up an armful of fresh linens and went back to the bedroom.

"How are you, Nazyr?" For a moment, she thought about apologizing. It had been her idea to summon her mother. Anyka was the reason Nazyr had been possessed and nearly succumbed to the spirit. But apologizing for something that was essentially his job did not seem like a very royal thing to do.

He set his spoon down to sip some tea. "I am glad not to be fighting for my life."

Was that aimed at her? Was he reminding her what she'd put him through? Or was he just not thinking? For his sake, she would allow him some leeway "As am I."

"I'm sure I'll be even better in a day or two."

"I have no doubt."

"Clary has been a great help. I am grateful to you for bringing her in."

"She's Hawke's half-sister. I felt she would be trustworthy."

"And a hard worker," Nazyr added. "How are things here? I'm sure I've missed much." He dipped a piece of buttered bread into the soup and ate it.

She shook her head. "Things are not as good as I'd like." She told him about Queen Sparrow going to see the hill people, about not being able to find Lady Cynzia's grimoire in the Summerton vaults, about her meeting with Sparrow in a matter of hours, and the most recent news about Hawke.

Nazyr's brow furrowed in concern. "A lot has happened. Very little of it in Malveaux's favor."

"There is something else," Anyka said.

"Oh?" He took another spoonful of soup.

"Something the spirit said. Information the spirit discovered while occupying you."

He laid his spoon down and carefully wiped his mouth with the napkin. "I see. What is that information?"

She watched him closely. "That you are the father of Queen Sparrow's son."

He folded the napkin and put it on the tray, then took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to her. "That is true. I am."

"And you kept that from me." She sat back. "Why?"

"I only just found out."

"How did it happen? How did you not know?"

"It was years ago, obviously. I was in the mortal realm, at a university under the guise of visiting professor so that I might gain access to its library. There was some evidence that their rare book room had an ancient fae text." He shook his head. "I looked through every single one and found nothing."

Unimportant, so she let it go. "And that's where you met Sparrow?"

"That's correct. She was…" Behind his lips, his tongue ran across his teeth. "We had a brief relationship."

"You must have realized she was fae."

He straightened the spoon on the tray. "You know how the mortal realm is, how many humans carry a trace of fae blood." He shrugged one shoulder as if that was all the energy he had. "I didn't think much of it. It wasn't like I was going to stay there. Or bring her back with me."

"And the child? Who is now Prince James?"

"I never knew she was pregnant. She never said a word. Not even a hint. I swear it on my life, which I can attest I now value even more highly than before encountering the spirit realm."

She believed him. In part because he had owned up to the accusation without excuse, and also because, in his weakened state, she felt that any lie he tried to tell would be obvious. She sighed softly. "It puts me in an awkward position."

He stared morosely at his soup bowl. "I understand. I will resign without argument. It has never been my desire to hurt the throne. Perhaps I have not always fulfilled my role in the manner I should have, and for that, I apologize. But it has been my great honor to serve you."

She snorted. "You are not resigning. Nor am I relieving you of your duties."

He looked up. "You aren't?"

"No." She gave him an incredulous look. "Now, more than ever, I need you. We are on the brink of war, Nazyr."

His deep breath spoke volumes. "I stand beside you, come what may."

"I appreciate that. I know you aren't quite yourself yet, but is there anything you can do for Hawke? I don't know how skilled the Willow Hall healer is and I'm sure Dr. Lockhart would appreciate any additional help you could give him."

"I must bathe and dress, then I will go to him."

She nodded. "I cannot lose him. I need both of you for the battle to come."

"You will have us, my lady."

She stood. "I will leave you to rest and think of how we might benefit from your siring of Summerton's crown prince. If something occurs to you before I meet with her, I trust you will tell me?"

"You have my word."

She turned to go, hoping his mind was more fully recovered than the rest of him. She would be going into that meeting with only Ishmyel and facing down what would undoubtedly be a very angry Sparrow.

Not at all what Anyka had intended. She was going to need any advantage she could find.