Page 109 of Sonnets and Serpents
Silas frowned, sitting more stiffly on his stool. His skin prickled with awareness, and he tried to force himself to be fully present in the moment, ignoring the ache in his calf and the pull of a princess.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Wrong question—her voice came back to him as an accusation.Tell me what this means!
He flinched.
“I would much rather have you on my side, Silas. It’s one thing to work with your venom, but to work with your mind ... I’m sure we could revolutionize everything. Not to mention I’vealways enjoyed working with you more than with either Havva or Mazhar.”
Something’s wrong, Silas thought, unable to form anything more coherent than that. He should have gone to the healing hall. Should have ...
Kerem’s voice remained even, as if this were any normal day, any one of the hundred times Silas had come to his office to work. “You would just have to convince me you can be objective about the sacrifices required for advancement. After all, the Artifact I created did not come at low cost.”
Silas found his focus at last, and it sent his heart plummeting through the floor.
He really was the worst judge of people.
Eventually, Eliza dragged herself to the healing hall. Part of her wanted to slink away without telling anyone, to return home the same way she’d left it, but she’d done enough intentional hurting, and if Henry really wasn’t returning home, she wanted a proper goodbye.
With Silas, she . . .
She didn’t know. But she owed herself a chance to decide while calm.
Unlike the Sarazan tabernacle, the healing hall had permanent beds and rooms separated by doors rather than curtains. Mint permeated the air, perhaps used for calming patients or to cover any unpleasant smells.
After asking directions to Ceyda’s room, she found Gill and Henry already there. No Silas.
But Ceyda was awake.
She looked dreadful, all the warmth leached from her dark skin, her dry lips pale and her face thin, but she still had bothlegs—judging by the shape of the blanket across them—and she didn’t seem to be ringing the bell for death.
“You were unconscious!” Eliza blurted.
Ceyda watched her suspiciously with crystal-blue eyes before giving a shallow nod toward Gill. “I believe he fixed that.”
“It’s relieving to have a translator,” Gill said mildly, pulling on a set of white gloves and adjusting them across his hands. He rubbed his head as if it ached. “I managed the magic but nothing since.”
Eliza blinked, then realized she’d spoken Pravish to Ceyda. It had just ... come naturally.
She rubbed her bare wrist.
“Where is Silas?”
The question could have come from anyone, but it came from Ceyda, and since the answer could only be understood by her, Eliza indulged herself in a raw truth.
“Bikmayak kalamak,” she said.My sword breaks here.
The severing of a relationship.
Ceyda sagged against the pillow, as if relieved. Eliza wished her own emotions could follow a similar track, but deep inside, she felt a gaping hollow. It was all that was left after she’d cried the rest out.
Henry caught her eyes, but neither of them spoke.
One of the female physicians entered, and Eliza did her best to translate for Gill. Apparently, the Casters at the healing hall had tried both drawing out the venom and spreading an antivenom to counter it but hadn’t felt confident about either treatment since their lead healer was missing.
“I’m aware how difficult working with blood is,” said Gill. “Luckily, I’ve had some recent practice. I drew out what remained of the venom, which stopped her fever, but I can’t reverse any of the damage already done.”
“I’ve never learned the word for ‘fever,’” Eliza muttered. Shesquared her shoulders and tried her best, calling the fever “head hot” and touching her own forehead.
