Page 82 of Vicious Is My Throne

Cosimo grunted as I took stock of our surroundings.

It had rained—poured, judging from the oily puddle we’d landed in—and we were a twenty-minute walk from the Keep. But I doubted I could transport myself, much less carry Cosimo with his injuries, and I doubted he’d survive the trip.

My best guess was, we’d barely survived the time travel.

With pain gnawing my every step, I took half a fucking hour to reach the front gates of the Keep, Lyrae rushing to meet me before I crossed beneath the portcullis, groaning as she took on Cosimo’s weight.

“What happened to you two?” She looped her arm around the mage’s thick waist, his head lolling onto her shoulder, face tight with pain. “You reek of dragonfire.” Her nose wrinkled. “And sewage.”

Okay, maybe that hadn’t been a rain puddle after all.

“Free ale night at the taverns gone bad,” was the best I could come up with, given how close we’d come to being incinerated, my head still reeling from going back to the past.

But the risk had been worthwhile, if the pendant was truly the other part of the weapon capable of killing Corvus. If we could unite the two, and if we could get close enough to him to wield it.

That was a fuckton of ifs riding on tonight’s success, and even with the best healers, I doubted I’d be in good enough shape to travel for two days. Cosimo’s recovery could take longer since he’d been closer when Zephryn had released his bone-melting plume of flame.

Frankly, I was afraid to look at either of us.

“Where are we heading, Commander?” Lyrae grunted, her feet stumbling beneath Cosimo’s weight. “Infirmary, I’m guessing.”

“You’d guess right.” I tried to ignore the way my skin stuck to my armor, tried not to imagine how badly this would hurt when they peeled it off. “Whoever’s on call, get them down here. They’d better work on Coz first. I can wait.”

“I doubt that.” Her gaze trailed over me. “Your back looks like a barbeque. Like they left the meat on the coals for too long. Like hours too long.”

“Subtle.”

“I don’t get paid to be subtle, I get paid to keep this city safe and your soldiers in line, remember?”

“I remember just fine. Careful,” I barked when she slammed Coz’s shoulder into the side of the doorway, the smell of antiseptic and blood hitting me full in the face when I followed them inside.

“He weighs as much as a godsdamned ox. You try carrying him.”

“I already did. Stop complaining and get him on the table. Face down.”

Healers rushed in from all sides, either because they recognized us or because of Lyrae’s threatening glare, but within a minute they had him stripped down and were casting waves of magic over him, his pinched face finally relaxing.

The intricate design embroidered into the robe was now etched into Cosimo’s skin, and I refrained from moving an inch lest my own skin pull free from where I was glued to my armor.

Fuck. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked Lyrae staring down at Cosimo, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the damage. “Someone else to annoy?”

She ignored me. “The night of the uprising, I spent most of the next morning bringing the injured to the healers. That’s what their injuries looked like. Dragonfire burns. There hasn’t been a dragon loose in this city since that night. I should know.”

I sighed. “Someone you can ask foolish questions of, besides me?” I reached up to push my hair back, only to find…most of it had been scorched off, the back of my scalp as raw as my blistered shoulders.

“Where were you tonight, Commander Vayle?”

“I never left Blackcastle.” I opened one eye. “Swear to the gods.”

“He’s telling the truth. I was overzealous with an experiment.” Cosimo propped his head on his hands, lips clenched tight. “Careless, even. Don’t tell Torin, will you? She’ll kick my arse if she finds out.” His sheepish grin looked so authentic that after a short pause, Lyrae turned on her heel and stalked out.

“You need to get to work on the commander’s back,” Cosimo ordered the healers as I started to protest. “If you leave that armor on much longer, you’ll only make things worse, trust me. Get through this first part, and the rest of the process will be easy.”

“Really?”

“Fuck no, this hurts like a motherfucker, but what choice do we have?” The astrologer winced as they adjusted him on the table, my entire body tightening in sympathy.

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