I moved without thinking, my body simply reacted. In two quick strides I closed the distance between us, and caught her before she could crumple to the ground. The chains rattled as her weight settled into my arms. Her head fell back across my forearm as her cheek came to rest against my chest.
"Oh dear," I heard my mother murmur softly."From the looks of her, I suspect the poor thing has been through quite an ordeal for quite some time."
"Unfortunately, I suspect she has. But she's stronger than she looks," I murmured, more to myself than my mother, as I peered down at Azralyth's upturned face. Even in her unconscious state, she remained tense, clutching the dagger in her hand like a life line.
By the Daeude, just don't let her jerk in her sleep and stab my ass again.
"Mikhael." She'd moved closer, those massive wings folding with a rustle like wind through leaves as she bent to examine the unconscious woman in my arms. Her luminous eyes swept over Azralyth with an expression I'd seen before—when she'd tended my childhood wounds, when she'd found injured birds in the garden. Concern mixed with determination. "Bring her to my pavilion. I will tend her wounds there."
The command was gentle, but absolute.
I adjusted my grip, careful not to jostle Azralyth as I held her more securely against my chest and followed my mother deeper into the Star Garden.
My mother glided ahead, her bare feet whispering against the soft, moss-covered ground. I followed the familiar path deeper into the garden, though I could have walked it blindfolded. Every turn, every stone, every flowering vine was etched into my earliest memories.
We emerged from a curtain of trailing jasmine into a clearing. Here, ancient trees and foliage formed the structure, their branches and fronds weaving together the walls and living canopy above. The floor beneath my boots was of bare dirt. Flowering vines, with blooms the color of starlight, were woven throughout, their gentle luminescence providing what light we needed.
The furniture was no less remarkable. Chairs and benches had been coaxed from the fauna itself, their wood still very much alive. Living branches bent and curved to form seats and a table covered in all manner of plant cuttings, pots of salves and a scattering of parchment paper covered in sketches and details noting each plant depicted.
This had been my nursery. My childhood playground. My sanctuary within a sanctuary.
"Lay her there." My mother gestured to a bower at the pavilion's heart, where branches had grown into a natural bed, cushioned with moss so thick and soft it might have been down. Fresh ferns arched overhead like a canopy, their fronds creating a cocoon of green.
I moved carefully, as if what I carried was formed from glass. A soft sigh slipped past her lips as I settled her onto the moss. For the first time, her features softened and almost relaxed. Her hand relaxed and I just barely managed to move my foot from the path of the falling dagger just moments before it would have removed a toe.
She looked so vulnerable, in a way that stirred something protective deep inside my chest. At that moment, I knew I'd give my life for hers. Without question. Without hesitation. Without regret.
I stepped back to give my mother space, but I couldn't make myself leave. Not just yet.
My mother was already busy collecting supplies from the alcoves and shelves carved from living wood. "Ah, yes," I heard her mutter as she picked up a vial to inspect its deep violet contents. "This should do nicely."
I couldn't help myself, and hate how childlike I sounded in that moment. "Will she be alright?"
In all my years spent in their company, I had managed to learn surprisingly little about humans. That was more Akyreal's area of speciality. He got humans, he understood them. But what I did know was that even though my mother was an exceptionally gifted healer, Azralyth may still die. Not just her body, but her mind too had been attacked.
"Her body, I can heal," my mother said confidently. When she looked at me, those luminous eyes held something knowing, something that made me want to look away. "Her mind? That only time will tell."
The stars had withdrawn behind the veil of dawn, and the sun was bleeding crimson into the eastern sky when I finally emerged from the Star Garden.
Unfortunately, there had been a change of guard.
"Well you look like shit."
Kastiel's voice carried through the corridor before I'd taken three steps, that particular note of amusement that meant I was about to be subjected to brotherly torment. He lounged against one of the corridor's carved pillars like a cat who'd cornered a mouse, arms crossed over his chest, looking far too fresh for someone who should have been asleep hours ago. Dawn light filtered through the latticed windows behind him, casting geometric shadows across the polished floor.
Shit.
Unlike Tyreal, this middle Val'Rhayne was likely to be far more direct about the events that had unfolded. Especially since he'd witnessed where everything had started.
"Good morning to you too."
"So." Kastiel pushed off from the pillar, his boots silent on the marble as he closed the distance between us. "She finally kicked you out?"
"No." I shot him a look sharp enough to draw blood, but his widening smile told me he knew he'd hit a nerve. "I left because I need to rest. I'm on duty tonight."
"No, you're not." His correction came without hesitation, almost lazy in its confidence. "Akyreal is." He tilted his head, studying me with those too-knowing eyes. "But let's say I believe that excuse—where is this going, Mik?"
I moved to step past him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
His hand caught my shoulder, not restraining, just enough to make me pause. "Oh yes, you do." The amusement had drained from his voice, replaced by something harder. More concerned. "The God King might eventually lose interest and forget about her, but not Qasim." He released me but didn't step back, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I've seen that look on his face too many times to not know how this ends. And it always ends the same way."
The unspoken words hung between us in the empty corridor: in her death.
I said nothing as I walked away.
I found my mother in the eastern courtyard, tending to the climbing jasmine that wound through the iron latticework like pale stars against the morning sky. She didn't look up as I approached.
"Three days," she said without preamble, her fingers continuing their practiced work among the vines. "She's been asleep for three days, waking only long enough to take water and a few bites of food before exhaustion pulls her under again."
I stopped at the edge of the fountain, keeping enough distance to maintain the pretense that this was a casual inquiry. "Is she—"
"Her body is healing." My mother finally turned to face me. Her expression was carefully neutral, but I'd known her long enough to recognize the steel beneath it. "The mind takes longer."
I'd stayed away, in hopes of avoiding any attention drawn to the Star Garden, but it wasn't long before Qasim started sniffing around.
"He seemed quite eager to drag her before the court. Wanted to wake her himself."
My hands clenched at my sides. "And?"
"And I reminded him that regardless of what her husband may have done, she remains the Lady of Vraycia by blood and birth." There was satisfaction in her tone now, subtle but unmistakable. "As such, she has the right to receive proper care and be allowed to heal before being subjected to imperial justice. I also reminded him that forcing a prisoner to stand trial while barely conscious might raise... questions about the legitimacy of any confession obtained."
She paused to examine a pale bloom, her expression thoughtful. "He didn't like it, but he couldn't argue without admitting he wanted her too broken to defend herself. The God King's court, for all its cruelty, still maintains certain proprieties." Her eyes found mine. "For now."
"How long?" The question came out rougher than I intended.
"A week, perhaps two if I can stretch the definitions of 'recovered' far enough." She set down her gardening tools and crossed to where I stood, lowering her voice. "Kastiel told me what happened."
Of course he had.
"I couldn't let them hurt her, not any further anyway," I said, meeting her gaze.
"No," my mother agreed softly, something like sympathy flickering across her features. "But the truth of the matter is that your actions may result in causing her further harm. Qasim has never had any love for you or your brothers, and do not think he will not seek to use this weakness against you."
I swallowed hard at the mention of Azralyth already being noted as something to be exploited against me.
"Qasim may not be able to kill you, but he can see you unravel." She reached up, her hand gentle against my cheek. "He's waiting, ready to strike like a viper from the shadows."
"Then I'll be careful."
"Will you?" The question held no judgment, only weary concern. "Because from where I'm standing, you already care too much to be careful."
The jasmine's sweet scent hung heavy in the morning air, cloying and inescapable. In the distance, the palace was beginning to stir, servants moving through corridors, guards changing posts, the great machine of the God King's court grinding inevitably forward.
And somewhere in the Star Garden, Azralyth slept, her body healing while Qasim counted down the days until he could drag her before the throne.
My mother was right. I did care too much.
But that didn't mean I could stop.