Flames of Comoros
“He is finally waking,” Reome announced, drawing Lia away from the doorway to the bedside.
Kieran’s eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Lia in confusion. Then his face grimaced with pain, uncontrollable pain. His teeth clenched and he groaned.
“I fell,” he gasped. His neck muscles strained as he lifted his head.
“You are alive,” Lia said soothingly.
His face was tortured with pain. He clenched his jaw, willing to control himself, to keep from blurting out with his suffering. His fingers clenched within the blanket. “My back is broken,” he said darkly.
Reome stifled a moan of horror.
“You will heal,” Lia said, touching his shoulder.
Kieran’s face contorted with pain, but he breathed through his nose and mastered it. “I smell smoke. Are we near Lambeth still?”
“No, it is eventide. The smoke is on the wind. Comoros is burning.”
He looked at her, his face confused. “The whole city? Ablaze? How?”
Lia looked down at her hand. “The fires came from Lambeth. Everything was built so close together. It went from rooftop to rooftop. Then it burned the bridge. It rages still.”
Sweat dripped down Kieran’s temples. He reached with his hand and gingerly touched the back of his head. He looked confused. He spoke to her in Pry-rian, masking his language so Reome would not understand. “I thought…I remembered…hitting my head. Then blackness. Then the Apse Veil.” He wiped his face slowly. “I died.”
“It was not your time to die, Kieran Ven.”
The look he gave her was full of pain and fury. “It was my time to go to Dahomey. I had a duty to perform and you thwarted it.”
She shook her head. “It was the Medium’s will that we journeyed to Lambeth.”
“You say it as if you could command it. As if you did command it to summon me to that burning tower.” He frowned with fury. “I have never done anything so foolish in my life. I deserve to be dead. I was careless. But there was a need drawing me after you. I could do nothing but worry and pace after you left. Almost at once I regretted it. So I left the laundry maid in the shadows, climbed the wall like a thief and ran after you. Someone saw me, of course, and summoned the servants and the guards. I had to knock down four men just to get to the tower door, and then the flames!” He winced with a spasm. “You nearly got us all killed.”
The door opened and Marciana entered, her face smudged with soot, her gown ruined by the smoke. “I heard voices. He has come around?”
Lia had never seen Marciana look so disheveled, but some of her strength had returned. The weeping child from the tower was gone now. The only gown she had was the one Dieyre had left her, and she clutched at the bodice with one hand to guard her modesty. There was fire in her eyes, especially after she learned from Lia that Reome was carrying Dieyre’s child.
“Ah, the reason for our delay,” Kieran said gruffly, still muttering in Pry-rian. “And my downfall.”
“Be civil,” Lia advised back. “She is the sister of an earl who is Demont’s ally.”
Marciana held up her hand. “Please…do not speak in a language I cannot understand. Lia, please, I insist. I owe you my gratitude, Kieran Ven. I wish to express it myself. You saved my life today.”
Kieran looked at her coldly. “Your gratitude is of no recompense to me, my lady. You were not my mission. Permit me a little disappointment that I cannot stand to greet you properly. I do not want or require your sympathies.”
“I said be civil,” Lia said thickly.
Marciana looked at him, surprised at his tone. “You were injured on my behalf, like it or no. I owe you every courtesy, despite how you treat me.” She looked at Lia next. “It is all arranged. We have secured room aboard a small fishing vessel which will take us upriver in the morning. There, we will hire out a carter and return to Muirwood.”
Kieran interrupted. “I do not want to go to Muirwood. Send me to Pry-Ree.”
Marciana shook her head. “Impossible. It is too far and you need a healer. You will convalesce at Muirwood.”
Lia set her hand on Kieran’s shoulder as she saw him ready to argue. “We all understand your desire to return to your homeland. Muirwood is the gathering point. They will better be able to care for you there.”
“I do not wish to be cared for, nursed, or in general, pitied. Who are you to control my destiny in such a way? I would rather be tossed in the cargo of a ship headed to Bridgestow and take my chances amidst the vermin.”