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I pushed myself up, then winced at the pain under my breasts.

Keil put a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “Lye fractured your ribs during the resuscitation. Winker said they’ll need more time to heal.”

My heart skipped. “Lye’s here?” I asked, breathless. “He’s all right?”

Keil smiled in reassurance, his eyes still weary. “Holden’s guards caught him sneaking from the locksmith during the final jolly, which was why he couldn’t make it back in time. But when news of the attack spread, he used the distraction to steal a boat.” Keil’s expression turned pained. “He was taking the route through the Neyamay waters to avoid notice when he found you on the riverbank.”

The blond hair, the pale skin, that deep voice saying I have you.

It had been Lye I’d glimpsed in the wake of my near-drowning. Lye who had pumped the water from my lungs and saved my life.

Gratitude and relief swept through me in equal measure.

Then I looked away, not wanting to speak my next words into existence. But denying them wouldn’t make them any less true. “Erik is a—”

“Wielder,” Keil finished somberly, startling me. “We know. Many of his soldiers died in battle, but Arun interrogated the few we captured. One of them finally broke.”

I shifted uncomfortably, newly fearful of Arun. I instinctively knew that the soldiers Erik had brought to Banarrat weren’t official Daradonian soldiers. They’d protected me during battle; they’d bowed to me while I was chained. Because they were his personal soldiers—the copycat Hunters I’d tried to stop during Rose Season. And they didn’t just serve Erik. They revered him.

Yet after a week with Arun, one had divulged Erik’s greatest secret.

“Has Rheya disseminated the news?” I asked.

Keil shook his head. “She’s waiting to see how best to use the secret to her advantage. Until we have proof, it would be our word against his.”

The irony was brutal: I could’ve procured that proof all along, simply by opening the compass in Erik’s presence. But I’d lost that chance when I’d lost the compass to him.

After twenty-two years of concealment, Erik’s secret was out—yet I still felt like the one defeated.

Keil leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Dashiel told me how the Hollows were created. Did Erik . . . ?” He trailed off, and I knew what he was asking: Did Erik join the compass and the sword? Did he achieve his goal?

“He brought them together,” I whispered. “He cut me with the sword.”

Keil’s eyes widened in horror. Before I could explain further, the door opened. I jolted, but it was only Stian who entered, dressed in tailored tweed. His anxious expression softened into one of warm relief when he saw me awake.

“My lady.” He rubbed his hands as he approached, as if to warm them up. His were the cold fingers I’d felt tending to my wounds after nearly drowning. “You put us through quite a bit of worry.”

Keil, still stunned by my words, hesitated to make way for the healer. Finally, he stood and backed up, though not too far.

Stian opened his box of dispensers, and my gaze traveled automatically to the one with the black stripe. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asked.

“I feel . . .” I frowned, uncertain. I felt exhausted yet antsy, my insides crawling to get out of bed. “I’m not in pain,” I said blandly.

Stian smiled. “Then the medicine is doing its job.” He carefully peeled down the bedsheets to expose the crisp white lines of my linen outfit. I watched with numb interest as he lifted the hem of my sleeveless shirt.

One giant purple bruise discolored the skin over my ribs.

Keil’s breathing snagged. Guilt shadowed his eyes.

Stian applied a dispenser-prick to the area, but I didn’t feel it. “You suffered a dislocated shoulder and deep abrasions on both wrists,” he said, straightening the bedsheets. “Do you remember how you received those injuries?”

I swallowed drily. “Yes.”

“Very good. Then your memory is intact.” Stian applied another pin to my debilitated arm. “Your stomach wound had been stitched before it was ruptured.” His eyes met mine over the rims of his spectacles. “Was that the work of the boy?”

“Winker,” Keil warned. But Stian kept his attention trained on me.

I’d never heard Erik referred to as a boy. The term sounded too small for a person who had caused so much suffering.