Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(62)

It’s a shitty excuse. Even I know that. Now that I’m pinned under the weight of their shock and searching gazes, all the reasons I had for keeping the news hidden evaporate from my mind. Didn’t the guests of Havenfall deserve to know they were in danger? What kind of stupidity or arrogance does it take to hide something like that?

“And this Solarian monster in the woods,” Lonan goes on. “Did it come from outside, from Haven, or did it come through the door?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

Their expressions are withering. I’ve never felt more useless, not even when I was a child at Havenfall. Not even the time when Enetta’s father Elirien caught me playing hide-and-seek with Brekken under the dinner table and reprimanded us in front of the entire delegation. I’ve never felt more unworthy to fill Marcus’s shoes, to take his place as Innkeeper.

“I will meet with the Fiorden delegation this evening,” Enetta says, raising her voice to address everyone in the room. “And if they decide that they wish to leave, we will do so.”

Betrayal shoots through me. Enetta knew the door was open, but now that everyone else does, she wants to take her delegation and go? “But …”

The word sounds high and wild. I stop and take a breath, imagining stripping the jagged panic from my voice like bark, until it’s smooth and featureless. Take a breath, start again.

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The magic of the doorways is delicate, as you know. An early exit by the Fiorden delegation could disrupt things. It could cause the Solarian door to open further.”

“And then we will be in our own world, ready with our army to meet anything that should come through,” she counters. “Not trapped here like … like …”

“Sitting ducks,” I supply, my voice popping out of its own accord. Again I feel the crazy urge to laugh, like at Nate’s funeral.

Now both Enetta and Lonan are scowling at me. They think I’m mocking them. I try to project a neutral expression, something appropriately contrite for keeping secrets from them, but not overly panicked. Something that says I’m sorry, but I know what I’m doing.

Judging from the level of emotion in the room, it doesn’t seem to be working. Where are Graylin and Willow? Why is Marcus still asleep? I need you, I think, willing him to hear me wherever he is.

The door to the hall slams behind us, and I turn around. It’s Taya.

“Maddie,” she says, ignoring the imperious glares of the delegates. “You’re needed at the infirmary.”

Marcus? “Is it Marcus?” I ask without meaning to.

Taya’s eyes flicker around to all the delegates, and my heart sinks. Whatever information she brings, she doesn’t want to say it in front of them. Not a great sign. I take a deep breath.

“Okay,” I say, and look back at the delegates and Lonan and Enetta. “We can—we will—talk more about this later,” I promise them. “Just please don’t do anything rash in the meantime. I swear to you I’ll fix this.”

The vow lands with a thud in the room. No one’s expression changes except for Princess Enetta’s, whose face hardens. And she’s right. I put her people in danger. That’s the worst part—that she’s right.

Taya doesn’t ask me what happened in the reception room as she leads me to the infirmary, and I don’t ask what’s waiting for us there. I know not talking won’t fix anything, but I need the respite. We use the twisty, narrow, back employee-only hallways, thankfully empty of delegates and staff. I have pretty much zero comfort to offer anyone.

But any shred of relief dissolves when we step into the infirmary. Graylin’s standing inside with a handful of other Fiorden healers. They are gathered around a form on the bed that seems very small. Too small. My stomach drops and my breath vanishes.

The crowd divides for a second as people shuffle around, and I see the patient—Max, a human, a busboy. Crap, he can’t be more than fifteen. He’s covered up with a white blanket, his face pale and breathing shallow.

“What happened?” I demand as I rush over, Taya a step behind me.

Graylin is the one who answers. He and the rest of the healers hover their hands over the boy’s body. Magic shimmers beneath them like distant rain.

“I don’t know,” he says hoarsely. “We found him on the grounds.”

I catch a glimpse of Taya’s face, and it’s a mirror of how I feel—confused, terrified. Horror curdles my insides.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Graylin’s mouth flattens. He pulls the blanket back for a moment, just enough for me to see the thick bandages wrapping Max’s thin, pallid torso.

“He’ll live, but it’s bad. This is a magic sleep, to help with the pain until we make more progress.”

“What do you think happened?” Taya asks quietly.

“The Solarian?” I guess.

Graylin considers, his lips pressed together. “Maybe. But his injuries are different from Marcus’s and yours, Taya. He’s been slashed.”

I open my mouth to say something else—I don’t know what—when the earth seems to shudder and groan beneath our feet. It’s over in a heartbeat, but everyone looks up at once and Graylin’s eyes fly wide.