Secondborn (Secondborn #1)(82)

I limp toward them. “You’re right, it doesn’t,” I agree. They make room for me on the couch, and I settle between them. Hammon moves to hug me, but I stop her with a raised hand. “Please don’t touch me. I don’t think I can bear it.”

“I took the beating of my life, Roselle,” Edgerton says. “You look like you took a fall off a cliff.”

“I don’t remember much about it once I hit the ground.”

“I don’t either, to tell you the truth,” Edgerton replies. He must have gotten the leeches, too, because his eyes are less swollen than the rest of him.

“You don’t want to know what happened to you,” Hammon says quietly. “It was your hand that saved us, Roselle—your scar. Without that, they’d have killed you and Edge for sure. That man—Winterstrom—he saved us all. How come you never told us about him? You hid that scar under a glove for an entire year.”

“He told you?” I ask.

“Mags told us,” Edgerton replies.

“I didn’t want to involve you. Only Hawthorne knew about it. The less you knew, the better.”

“Apparently, we’re still five steps behind you,” Edgerton says. “Reykin was just here. He told Hammon and me about the deal you made for us.”

“There’s no way we can ever repay you, Roselle,” Hammon adds.

“You can name the baby Roselle if it’s a girl,” I tease.

“That goes without saying,” Edgerton replies. “So you’re going back?”

“I have to. It’s like you said, Edge. I’m still breathing, so there is still a chance, right? I’ll get word to you as soon as I can. Hopefully, one day, when it’s safe, we can all be together.”

We say our good-byes. Mags leads me back toward the main house, and I pause by the garden gate to keep from passing out. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Mags scolds me.

“I’ve run out of time, Mags. I have to leave now or I might have to stay forever.”

“Would it be so bad?” she asks.

Here among the beautiful grounds of the Star-Fated estate, war seems distant. A glass gazebo borders a small, serene lake. Well-groomed horses run along the paddock fences. I can see why Reykin’s parents were lulled into a false sense of security. One could feel untouchable here.

“Forget what I said, Mags. There’s no forever. There’s only now.”

I lose my balance. Someone behind me breaks my fall. “You’re going back to bed,” Reykin orders. He lifts me into his arms. I wince at the pressure on my ribs. He takes me back to the room I was in before and lays me on top of the blanket. Mags comes in with a cold compress. Reykin takes it from her and lays it on my forehead. With my eyes closed, I murmur, “This changes nothing. I’m still leaving by tonight unless you have another one of those cyanide tablets. I feel bad enough to take one of those. Either way, I’m not staying here.”

Mags snorts in derision. “We don’t have cyanide here. The mind of this one.” I peek at her. She gestures with her thumb in my direction. Shaking her head as if she never heard of such a thing, she leaves the room.

“You wouldn’t let me take the easy way out,” Reykin says. “I’ll return the favor.”

“You’re just being cruel now.”

“I’ve booked passage for you on a very low-budget cargo watercraft leaving for Bronze City late this afternoon,” Reykin says. I can’t hold back my sigh of relief. Reykin notices. “Did you think I was going to hold you hostage here, Roselle?” From the pocket of his coat, he extracts a laser tool and a small vial that matches my skin tone.

“It’s hard to know what you’ll do, Reykin,” I reply. “You’re somewhat unpredictable. It’s the austerity of your stare. I thought before that you’d protect me, but then you promised me that my brother is as good as dead—so you can see my dilemma. I believe people like you should come with a warning label.”

“My intention isn’t to harm you. My intention is to make sure no one ever harms you again.” He reaches for my right hand, taking it gently in his. His fingers run over the crest that his fusionblade left there.

“Why can’t you protect me without killing my brother?”

“You know what I thought about when I was lying in this very same bed,” he asks, “recovering from the wounds I received the day I met you?” He seems almost reluctant to apply the skin tone to my palm, as if he’d like me to keep my scar. “I kept thinking, ‘Why was she there—that girl with the perfect lips? Roselle St. Sismode is the secondborn to The Sword. Why wouldn’t they protect her?’” The skin gel is cool as he brushes it on my palm. “‘Who wants her dead?’”

“Why would someone want me dead?”

“I can think of at least two reasons, Roselle. The first is the fear of what you’ll do with the power you’d have if you ever became The Sword.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“With you dead, there would be very little reason to kill Gabriel. The alternate to your brother, if he dies without an heir and you’re already dead, is a man named Harkness, and trust me when I tell you that he’d be disastrous as The Sword. Now that I know that the Rose Garden Society exists, I’m leaning toward the second reason. It’d be easier to kill you than to take out a whole society of firstborns, with their rose-shaped pins and secret handshakes. If you die, the point of their club is moot. If you die, they lose their power.”