Ch. 61: Welcome Home and Ch. 62 Medical Authority

Chapter 61: Welcome Home

Allandra returned to the council chamber flanked by Pell and Orran. She was clutching the communication stone so tightly her knuckles went white.

Hagen rose before she reached the table. “What happened?”

“Lady Serali and Mistress Lia are gone. Neither came through the workroom door. There are chalk marks on the floor, and Lia took her medical bag.”

“Gone where?” Merrow asked.

“I think they used the anchor.”

Verya pushed her chair back. Yvander turned toward the clerk beside the door.

“Get someone to check the other workrooms,” he said.

“And the infirmary,” Verya added. “They may not have gone far.”

Hagen looked at the stone in Allandra’s hand. “Does Harrek know?”

“No.”

“Your Majesty, what made you go to the workroom?” Verya asked.

Allandra reached for a plausible explanation. “I felt a surge of magic through the Mantle. I knew they were working with the anchor.”

“Could they have reached Lady Marielle?” Merrow asked.

“Possibly.”

“And if it failed?”

Allandra could still feel Serali. Pain came through the bond, then fear, then something she couldn’t separate from either. None of it told her where she was.

“We don’t know where they arrived.”

Yvander sent the clerk out. Verya called another to check the palace entrances. Hagen came around the table.

“We should warn Harrek.”

Allandra looked down at the stone. She could have his voice in the room in a moment, if he had a hand free to answer. His voice might also carry through whatever passage he and Daravan were searching.

“They’re following the agents through the sewers,” she said. “We may give away their position. We wait for him to call.”

Hagen stopped beside her. For a moment she thought he would argue. Instead, he looked toward the map. “Then we put men at the outlets.”

“Harrek already has them there,” Yvander said, searching through the reports. “The last deployment—”

“Have the runners confirm which ones,” Allandra said. “Tell them Serali and Lia may come up with the search teams. If either is seen alone, I want word immediately.”

Verya was already writing.

Allandra set the stone beside the map, within reach, then immediately wanted to pick it up again.

Across the table, Merrow asked whether the anchor could have taken them somewhere other than Myrae.

“We have no way of knowing that,” Verya said.

Allandra could feel that Serali was still alive. She held on to that while a clerk hurried out with Verya’s instructions.

The clerks returned separately. Neither woman was in the infirmary or the other workrooms. No one had seen them leave the palace. None of it told her where they were, but Allandra thanked each messenger anyway and listened to the next report. Once, pain came through the bond sharply enough that she missed what Yvander was saying. He repeated himself without being asked. Later, Serali’s fear eased, but the exhaustion that followed frightened Allandra almost as much. She picked up the stone again and held it while Hagen reviewed the Watch deployments.

Hagen drew the latest Watch report toward him. “The western outlets are covered. If we send the palace reserve to—”

The communication stone warmed in her hand.

“Lady Marielle recovered alive,” Harrek said.

Verya’s pen froze. Yvander looked up from his ledger so quickly that a ribbon marker slipped to the floor.

“Injured,” Harrek continued. “Mistress Lia has treated her at the Kellen Row bathhouse. I don’t know what you’ve been told, Your Majesty, but she and Lady Serali were already in the tunnels when we reached Lady Marielle. I can’t tell you how they got there. We’re preparing to return. The commander is captured. The woman escaped. We are still looking for her.”

Allandra closed her other hand around the back of her chair.

“All of you?” she asked.

“Alive, Your Majesty.”

Verya closed her eyes for one breath. Hagen’s hand settled on the table beside Allandra’s.

“Marielle’s condition?”

“A neck wound. Stitched and dressed. Lia authorizes the journey, not questions.”

Allandra heard Yvander let out a breath that, under other circumstances, might have been a laugh.

She turned to another clerk and issued orders for the infirmary, the entrance, and the guards who would receive the prisoner. Verya drew a fresh sheet toward her.

“Another message to the Caerns,” Allandra said. “Found alive. Receiving treatment. We will have more for them when they arrive.”

Verya nodded. Her pen touched the page.

Allandra finished giving instructions, then she went to Everly.

She had promised to tell her when they knew.

Lessa met her outside the breakfast room.

“She woke, Your Majesty. Heard people moving in the corridor. I stayed with her.”

Beyond the door, Everly was speaking with considerable authority.

“Not beside the tea. Lady Marielle needs room.”

The room had become a staging area. Nurse Pella watched Everly arrange napkins and dessert forks with grave concentration. Her daughter wore a yellow dressing gown and had ink on one cheek. A card waited beside the largest plate.

Allandra stopped in the doorway.

Pella saw her first.

Then Everly turned. “Mama!”

Allandra had one breath before her daughter ran into her skirts.

“They found Lady Marielle,” she said. “She is coming home.”

Everly pulled back far enough to examine her face. “Alive?”

“Alive.”

Everly’s shoulders dropped. Then she looked toward the table. “We have to have the pie party.”

“Not yet.”

Small shoulders squared again. “Why?”

“Because Lady Marielle is hurt. Mistress Lia needs to help her first.”

“She needs pie.”

“She may need medicine before pie.”

Everly frowned. “Pie is medicine.”

“Not the kind Lia means.”

“Lia is very bossy about medicine.”

Pella made a small sound. Lessa became interested in a spoon.

Allandra crouched and gathered both of Everly’s hands. “Little sun. Lady Marielle will need quiet. Clean clothes. Sleep. People telling her not to talk.”

Everly’s eyes widened. “Lady Marielle?”

“I know.”

“That is very serious.”

“Yes.”

Everly considered this. “She can listen to the card.”

“She can.”

“So I should bring it.”

“When Lia permits a visit.”

“Mama.”

There were several ways Everly said Mama. This one meant she had identified injustice and was allowing the world one opportunity to correct itself.

“Lady Marielle may not look like herself,” Allandra said carefully. “She may be pale. There will be bandages. Bruises. There may be blood on her clothes. She may be asleep, or unable to smile at you or answer you.”

Everly’s mouth trembled.

Allandra hated every word, but said them anyway. “I do not want you frightened.”

Everly looked toward the card.

For a moment Allandra thought she might agree.

Then her daughter looked back. “I am already frightened.”

Allandra had no answer.

“I was frightened when everyone was quiet. And when Lady Marielle was gone.” Everly tightened her grip. “If I see Lady Marielle hurt, then I know where she is.”

“You may see her, briefly, if Mistress Lia approves.” Allandra raised a finger before Everly could answer. “And if Lia tells you to leave, you leave immediately.”

Everly considered the terms. “Can I stand quietly?”

“Yes.”

“Give her the card?”

“If Lia permits it.”

“Bring a pie?”

“No.”

The author publishes this chapter on their official page, while the text here was taken without approval; reading there supports the writer.

Everly looked betrayed.

Lessa stepped forward. “We can wait outside the infirmary.”

Allandra looked at her.

Let her have this, Lessa’s expression said.

“Yes,” Allandra said.

Everly hugged her once more before retrieving the card.

Allandra straightened the smallest fork on the table, then went to meet the people coming home.

She felt Serali before she saw her.

Distance diminished. Pain became nearer, harder to keep separate from her own. Beneath it came relief, and an apprehension Allandra could not yet bear to answer.

She stood at the east entrance with Hagen behind her. Verya waited near the infirmary corridor, still holding her papers.

The doors opened, and Daravan came through carrying Marielle.

Allandra’s breath caught.

Marielle looked very small.

That was wrong. She filled council chambers with repair estimates and deeply specific irritation. Now she lay against Daravan’s chest, pale beneath grime, her throat wrapped in a clean dressing.

One hand remained twisted into his coat.

His eyes were red. Fresh blood darkened his side. An officer followed with an empty litter.

“Captain,” the officer began, moving nearer.

Marielle’s fingers tightened.

“I have her,” Daravan said.

Lia glanced at his side with an expression that promised further discussion. “Then keep moving.”

Harrek came behind them.

Then Serali crossed the threshold. Her hair was tangled, and there was dried blood beneath her nose. Sewer water marked her clothes. Silver thread hung from her wrist.

Allandra wanted to cross the hall and hold her.

Guards stood beside the doors. Officers waited for instructions. An apprentice hurried past with blankets.

Serali looked up. Their eyes met, and another apology reached Allandra through the bond.

Her fingers tightened on the stair rail. Later, they would talk later.

Allandra stepped forward. “Lady Marielle.”

Daravan turned enough that Marielle could see her without moving her neck.

Marielle tried to incline her head.

“No,” Lia said. “No bowing. No speaking. No court gestures from the throat-wound patient.”

Marielle’s eyes narrowed.

Allandra mastered something that had nearly become a smile and nearly become a sob. “Welcome home.”

Marielle looked at her.

Beside the corridor, Verya made a small, broken sound. Her free hand covered her mouth. Tears ran down her face.

Allandra took the papers before she crushed them.

“I am aware,” Verya said, her voice unsteady.

Marielle’s gaze settled on her.

Verya drew a breath. “Do not look pleased. This is a temporary lapse in standards.”

“Infirmary,” Lia said. “All temporary lapses can continue there.”

Allandra stepped aside to clear the passage.

Serali paused beside her. “Your Majesty.”

The proper address hurt more than it should have.

“Go with Mistress Lia,” Allandra said. “You will be examined too.”

Serali nodded.

Allandra let her walk past without touching her.

It took almost everything she had left.

Daravan lowered Marielle onto a prepared cot only after telling her what he was doing.

Her hand slipped from his coat. His followed it.

Not far.

Lia checked the throat dressing, then turned her attention to the injured arm. An apprentice approached Daravan with clean linen.

“Sit,” Lia told him.

“I am waiting—”

“Captain,” Allandra said.

He looked at her.

“Lie down.”

Marielle lifted one hand with immense effort and indicated the cot beside hers.

Daravan looked from her to the cot, then sat as though negotiating terms with furniture.

An apprentice helped Serali onto another bed. Allandra watched her submit to questions she would ordinarily have contested.

That frightened her too.

Lessa appeared at the doorway with Everly.

Allandra looked at Lia.

The healer considered Marielle, then the child. “Briefly. No touching the dressings. No making her answer questions.”

Everly approached more carefully than most adults had moved all night.

She stopped beside the cot, and her eyes grew wider when she saw Marielle.

Allandra nearly went to her.

Then Everly held out the card. “I made this for you. You do not have to talk.”

Marielle’s eyes filled.

“She needs help holding it,” Everly told Daravan.

He took the card and held it where Marielle could see.

Allandra watched his hands. The care around the paper. The way he checked Marielle’s face before adjusting its position.

Everly leaned closer. “The pies are waiting.”

“No pie yet,” Lia said.

“I know.” Everly looked back at Marielle. “You just need to know where they are.”

Lessa turned away for a moment.

Allandra moved beside Everly. “Now everyone needs rest.”

“I can be quieter.”

“That is not the only kind of rest they need.”

Everly surveyed the cots. Her chin wobbled once, then steadied. “All right. I will plan the party.”

“With Lessa.”

“And the rest of the pies.”

Allandra narrowed her eyes.

Everly turned toward Lessa, seeking friendlier jurisdiction. “What is one hundred minus ten?”

Lessa closed her eyes briefly. “Ninety, Your Highness.”

“Yes. We need ninety more pies.”

“Perhaps we do not need all one hundred at once,” Lessa suggested.

Everly considered this. Then, magnanimously, said, “They do not all have to be apple.”

Lessa had clearly not found the concession as helpful as intended.

Hagen made the mistake of smiling.

“Uncle Hagen, you do not get any until Lady Marielle does,” Everly informed him.

He placed a hand over his heart. “A brutal but just restriction.”

Allandra gathered Everly’s hands. “We will wait for Lia’s go-ahead before making ninety more pies.”

Everly sighed. “Then we can make the list.”

“A list can be arranged,” Lessa said.

At the door, Everly turned back. “Everyone has to rest.”

“Yes,” Allandra said.

Her daughter accepted that and departed, already explaining that little pies might count as half unless someone ate two.

The room grew quieter.

Across it, Serali watched Allandra.

No doors had closed. No privacy had appeared merely because Allandra needed it.

She moved to the cot and drew a chair beside it.

“You will remain here until Lia releases you,” she said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Allandra sat.

She could be queen from a chair.

Chapter 62: Medical Authority

Daravan had put the card on the table between the cots.

Marielle could see it there.

He had checked.

Now he lay on his back with his arm extended across the narrow space between them and her fingers resting in his hand.

Hagen noticed. His eyes paused on the space between the beds. Then rose to Daravan’s face.

Daravan waited for the remark.

Hagen looked away, which, somehow, was worse.

“Hold still,” the apprentice at Daravan’s side said while she cut away the wet edge of his dressing.

Daravan looked toward Marielle.

Lia was working on her left arm. The ruined sleeve had been removed, exposing bruises he had not seen clearly in the sewer. Marielle watched the healer’s hands with an attention that made his stomach tighten.

“Cleaning first,” Lia told her. “Then I will examine the wound. No surprises.”

Marielle’s fingers pressed into his palm.

Daravan answered with a small squeeze.

His side stung as the apprentice began to clean it.

The apprentice frowned at the wound. “You reopened it.”

“Yes.”

“Quite thoroughly.”

There wasn’t a useful response to that, so Daravan remained silent.

Across the room, Allandra sat beside Serali’s cot, listening while another apprentice asked about dizziness, pain, and the landing.

“And when you take a deep breath?” the apprentice asked.

“I have been avoiding that.”

Allandra did not move.

Serali reconsidered. “It hurts.”

Daravan closed his eyes briefly. He still did not understand exactly how Serali and Lia got to the sewer in the first place. He suspected there would be an explanation he would dislike.

Verya remained near Marielle’s cot, holding a folded cloth someone had given her.

Her eyes were still red. Every time Marielle’s expression changed, Verya straightened as though there might be something she could argue into being different.

“The Caerns?” Daravan asked her quietly.

“Expected this morning. The gates have instructions. They will be brought directly here.”

Marielle’s eyes moved toward her.

“Your parents,” Verya said, coming closer. “They are on their way. They know you have been found.”

Marielle watched her for a moment.

Then looked back at Lia.

Something she could not say drew her brows together.

“They are coming regardless,” Verya told her. “You may save your objections for when you are allowed to express them.”

Marielle’s nose wrinkled at that, and Daravan was surprised by how much that relieved him.

Lia lifted Marielle’s arm a little, supporting it above and below the injury.

Her own sleeve drew back.

Blood had worked through a makeshift dressing around her palm. Daravan hadn’t realized Lia had also been injured.

An apprentice approaching with a bowl stopped. “Mistress Lia?”

“What?”

The girl looked at Lia’s hand. Then at her face. “You should lie down.”

The room became completely silent.

Harrek looked delighted.

Daravan shut his eyes.

Lia turned slowly. “What did you say?”

The apprentice went pale, but she did not retreat. “Your hand needs to be disinfected and properly dressed; there is blood in your ear, and you are swaying.”

Lia looked at her hand as though it had betrayed her. “I am not swaying.”

“You are. You went through the anchor too, you know,” Serali said.

Lia’s glare found her.

Serali settled farther back against her pillows and muttered something that sounded dangerously close to “hypocrite.”

Hagen made a small sound from the doorway.

Allandra’s mouth moved once.

“I will sit,” Lia said, “when all of you are no longer actively courting death.”

The apprentice lifted her chin. “That is not what you would tell us to do.”

Daravan opened one eye.

“Promote her,” Harrek whispered.

Lia shifted her weight. Her free hand caught the edge of Marielle’s cot.

The apprentice put down the bowl and took her elbow.

For a moment, Daravan thought Lia might try to argue.

“A chair,” she said at last. “Not a cot. A chair is medically distinct.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The apprentice brought one beside Marielle’s bed.

“Five minutes,” Lia said, sitting. “I continue giving orders.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And if anyone begins bleeding more while I am seated, I will be extremely disappointed.”

Daravan looked toward the apprentice still cleaning his side. She had not reacted during the whole exchange. Knowing Lia, that seemed wise.

The girl beside Lia reached for fresh linen. “Your hand first.”

Lia opened her mouth.

Allandra said, “Mistress Lia.”

Lia closed it.

Harrek appeared to be having the best five minutes of his life.

Lia examined Daravan’s wound after her palm was cleaned and dressed. She did so from a chair one of her apprentices pointedly positioned by his cot.

“You have undone a considerable amount of my work.”

“I know.”

“That is not an apology.”

“No.”

Her gaze moved to his outstretched arm.

Marielle had closed her eyes. Her hand remained in his.

“I need you to turn slightly,” Lia said. “Toward me.”

Daravan looked at the distance between the cots.

Marielle opened her eyes before he said anything.

“Lia needs to treat my side,” he told her. “I am staying here. I need this hand for a moment.”

Her fingers tightened.

He waited until she released him.

He put his hand on the blanket where she could see it until Lia instructed him to brace it elsewhere.

There was the brief warmth of healing, a new dressing, and several instructions followed by a warning about what would happen if he disregarded them.

When Lia allowed him back onto his back, he offered his hand across the gap.

Marielle reached for it.

Hagen watched from beside Harrek.

This time Daravan did not look up.

The eye treatment came next. He submitted to the salve and the cloths, though he disliked losing sight of the room.

“Temporary,” Lia said. “And you can hear.”

He could.

Verya asking when Marielle could have water. Lia answering. An apprentice moving the warming stone. Serali objecting to a vial before being told what it contained.

“It’s for magical feedback,” Lia replied. “Drink it.”

“You first.”

“Lady Serali.” Lia’s tone brooked no argument.

A pause.

“That is vile.”

“Excellent,” Hagen said. “You remain capable of hostility.”

“Your Highness,” Lia said.

“I am leaving.”

Harrek came beside Daravan’s cot before he went.

“My officers have the prisoner. The district search continues. Your duty officers have the palace arrangements.”

“Send the reports—”

“To your office.” Harrek paused. “They know where you are if something requires you.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Marielle’s thumb moved against his hand, as though checking he was still there. He gently squeezed her hand.

Three hours passed.

Daravan knew because he asked twice.

The second time, Lia told him the passage of time was not a medical emergency. She also explained that his eyes were still irritated and that if he did not want them to become infected, he would keep the cloths on as long as she told him.

The light beyond the salve cloths had strengthened. The room sounded different: fewer urgent footsteps, quieter instructions, the small domestic noise of a cup being set down.

Allandra had left after speaking with Lia about Serali. Verya had gone with her to arrange the next messages and the Caerns’ reception.

Mara was beside Serali’s cot. Daravan heard her arrive, offer Serali a blanket, then firmly reject the suggestion that Serali was sufficiently recovered to leave.

Marielle slept in short intervals.

He knew when she woke because her fingers moved.

Sometimes he said, “Still here.”

Sometimes the answering pressure of his hand was enough.

Once, her grip loosened so completely that he listened for her breathing before allowing himself another thought.

Lia checked her and adjusted the blanket.

“Sleeping,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

He did not move his hand.

When the cloths were removed from his eyes, Everly’s card remained on the table, propped where Marielle could see it.

Someone had cleaned the remaining blood from her hair and changed her into an infirmary gown. The bruises were more distinct now. The clean dressing at her throat had stayed clean.

Daravan looked at that longer than he looked at anything else.

Then Verya returned. “Her parents are here.”

Lady Lisette Caern stopped just inside the doorway.

Lord Osric Caern’s hand went to her back. Neither looked at the other.

They were looking at the cot.

Daravan had prepared reports for families before. He knew the moment words ceased being sufficient, and people had to see what the report had meant.

It was a mercy they had not seen her in the sewer.

He had no idea whether this looked merciful to them.

Lia met them before they reached the bed. “She is resting. The neck wound and arm have been treated. She must not speak, and I need her head kept still. You may sit beside her.”

Lisette nodded, too quickly. Osric asked something about the bleeding.

Lia answered plainly.

Marielle’s eyes opened at her mother’s voice.

Lisette reached the cot and stopped again. “Oh, darling.”

Marielle’s mouth moved.

“No,” Lia said gently. “Let them do the talking.”

Osric drew a chair close to the opposite side. Lisette sat before her knees could decide the matter for her.

“May I?” she asked, holding her hand above Marielle’s uninjured shoulder.

Marielle lifted her fingers from Daravan’s palm and reached toward her.

He let go.

Lisette bent carefully, touching her daughter's cheek before kissing her forehead. She stayed there for a moment, eyes closed.

Osric put his hand beside Marielle’s on the blanket.

“We came straight here,” he said. “We received the second message on the road.”

Marielle looked between them.

Lisette turned to look at Daravan. “Captain Daravan.”

He inclined his head. “Lady Caern.”

Her eyes filled again. “Thank you.”

“There were others,” he said. “Lady Marielle left us evidence. Commander Harrek—”

“We will thank them too,” Osric said.

Daravan had no prepared response.

Marielle closed her eyes. Her mother remained beside her. Her father drew his chair nearer.