I can still feel you.

While the others left down one hall, Larkin and Stelon turned through another, his arm around her shoulders. The familiarity of the situation was not lost on him, but he forced it out of his mind, out of his movements. He did not want to think of Tic now. The boy was irrelevant to his plans. He no longer mattered, and neither really did this girl, save to satisfy his curiosity. She had been the ally of Miraye, and now he was again putting himself at risk, hugging her to his side. Her appearance, as Tic’s had been, could be deceiving him and hiding some unknown weapon of the mind, just waiting for the right time to be released. There had been no escorts with her; how had she known where to find him? Larkin’s head was not clear. It was painful and dizzying to stand. His room was on this floor, they would go there. Like Tic, she would receive undeserving treatment in return for her cooperation. Larkin would learn from his mistakes this time. He would be careful. If he could manage this wound and keep it hidden, hide this shameful weakness.

“Hush,” Larkin whispered gently, lifting a hand from Stelon’s shoulder to press his fingers against her lips. She had been trying to tell him something, urgently, but he hadn’t heard and was not interested in listening, nor to the sounds in the distance, echoing through the halls. Sounds that meant trouble, but it was all right. Men trailed behind Larkin, his best and most trusted, one dropping away to investigate the ruckus.

“You don’t understand,” she said, speaking through his fingers, “There’s a man, he…”

“Shh.” People still lingered outside of his room, in the halls. The area had gained new decorations: couches and waiting chairs, plants to make it seem more complete. Two priests sat side by side, each of their legs crossed at the knee and their hands clasped in their laps. They were identical in dress, height and shape but their facial features were not the same. Servants stood around, suddenly agitated. The right door to Larkin’s room was pushed open and Stelon went inside with Larkin. There were more people here, important people.

Larkin’s feather-light hand suddenly became weight on her shoulder, as if he were using her to stand, and when she looked up at him, his face had turned to a grimace and he released her, transferring himself to another. The man held Larkin easily, but there was fright on his face, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with The Shrike, there in his arms. The once quiet foyer was now a flurry of voices and people began to pour in from the hallways, and replacing them were the uniformed men, the guardians. They had their staves powered, glowing.

The man helped Larkin into the bedroom. Stelon felt herself being moved as well, another hand on her shoulder, one not so gentle as Larkin’s. She moved with the group and they all went inside, crowding around the bed as Larkin fell into it. A man rolled him over and Larkin covered his face with his arm. They pulled away his robe and untied his corset, pulling the strings out of his and sliding it from beneath him. The bandages underneath were blood soaked and those were being removed as well. His arm went up as they were doing all of this and he pulled someone down close to him, whispering an order.

The order was carried out and it sent Stelon away to an antechamber, where she was shut and locked.