“Give it time, Kara,” Mzatal said in a curiously gentle voice. “You have much potential and will remember that when you come to yourself again.”

I stiffened. “Stop reading my mind,” I snarled. “I fucking hate that shit.”

“I cannot,” he replied, moving out to the doorway of the balcony. “As I have noted before, it is as invisibly natural as the beating of my heart.”

“Well, try.” My hands shook, and I clenched them in the sheet. Rhyzkahl read my fears and weaknesses, used them against me ruthlessly. “It’s like a mental assault.”

He exhaled. “As I said, I cannot. Though I give you my word that I will not use it to your detriment.”

His word. Right. I didn’t have a whole lot of trust for lords going on at the moment. Shivering, I pulled the sheet up. My hands brushed my torso, and I froze, felt the blood drain from my face. “There are scars.” My voice shook badly. “They scarred.” None of my other wounds he’d healed had scarred. Why these?

“I did all that could be done,” he said, regret coloring his voice. “The nature of their creation—the taint of rakkuhr—prevented more.”

I flinched. “I have to live with them forever?” I struggled to process the knowledge that I would have a constant reminder of what happened to me.

“Unless a means beyond my understanding comes forward, yes.”

He doesn’t care, I thought, mood suddenly bleak. Why should he? He wanted me as his summoner. Didn’t matter to him whether I was all scarred up. I pulled the sheet back up, shivers going through me in waves. I couldn’t seem to hold a thought in my head for more than a few seconds. I knew I was in deep shock and suffering from all sorts of post-trauma stress, but knowing it and being able to do something about it were two completely different things. I felt utterly fractured, and I didn’t have the faintest idea of how to even begin putting myself back together.

Mzatal turned back to me, brow furrowed, looking as though he was about to say something, then he shifted his attention to the door. “Helori is here to take you.”

I followed his gaze to see a syraza crouched silently by the door. Larger than Ilana and apparently male, he also had the ridges on head and torso that marked him as an Elder. I hadn’t heard him come in. For all I knew he’d been there since before I woke up. How was I supposed to prepare for a trip with him? Was I supposed to pack or something?

Helori rose fluidly and moved to the side of the bed, crouched again. “I am Helori,” he said with a teeth-baring smile. “And I would be honored if you would accompany me on a journey.”

I dragged up an unsteady smile from somewhere. “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say after that.

Apparently it was enough. Helori lifted his eyes to Mzatal. “I have her now.”

Mzatal gave the syraza a nod, eyes traveling over me before he turned and departed.

“Do I…?” I frowned, tried again. “Should I pack something?”

“I have done so for you,” he told me, “and am happy to add anything, though I will have access to most necessities while we are away.”

“I don’t think I need anything.” My frown deepened. I was pretty sure that was true.

Helori stood, and now I saw he had clothing in his hand. “I have these for you,” he said, setting on the foot of the bed the necessary underwear as well as shirt and pants made of a pale blue gauzy material. He placed simple slip-on shoes on the floor nearby. “If they do not suit, I will find others.” He tilted his head. “Yes? No?”

“Yeah,” I said, glad not to be faced with any weightier decision than that. “That’s good.”

He moved to the balcony. “I will be here when you are ready.”

I waited for him to leave, then reached cautiously for the clothing, anticipating pain and surprised when it didn’t come. I dressed slowly, then tugged my hands through my hair, expecting and finding it tangled and greasy. Someone had cleaned the blood off me while I slept, but I still felt yucky. Yet I also didn’t want to bathe here. I didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary. And I trusted Helori, an Elder, more than I trusted Mzatal.

I slipped the shoes on and stepped out to the balcony. “I guess I’m ready.”

Helori smiled. “Come then. We will go to the grove.” He took my hand and led me back through Mzatal’s chambers and out. I followed without question or resistance as he led me out of the palace and toward the grove, his hand firm and comfortable on mine, our entire journey remarkably free of demons or humans or lords.

Helori greeted the mehnta as we entered the grove, then pulled me to the center and gave my hand a light squeeze. “Where would you like to go?”

Someplace safe, I thought. Someplace calm and beautiful and far away from lords. Far far away from lords. But to Helori I only gave a small shrug.

The syraza squeezed my hand again, nodded to the mehnta, and then we were gone.

Chapter 21

Helori led me up the tree tunnel of the grove at our destination and onto the narrow trail, through oversized plants with leaves twice my height pressing close and arching above. The rushing sound of surging surf came from ahead, punctuated by sharp cries and squawks from a variety of unseen creatures.

“Perhaps here will suit,” he said as we stepped out into the open.

I breathed in the warm salt air, felt the brush of the light breeze ruffle my shirt. “It’s perfect,” I murmured.

White sand met the gentle surf of brilliant sea, waves of turquoise and rich blue catching the afternoon sun. The beach stretched left and right as far as I could see, bounded by rich greens and purples of giant trees and plants.

“You swim,” he said as we moved down toward the water. “This is good for swimming. Very good.”

The water was beautiful, but I still hesitated. I didn’t want to take my shirt off. I didn’t want to see or show the sigils. “That’s okay,” I said. “I…I’ll just sit on the beach awhile.”

Helori kept the loose hold on my hand as he continued down the beach. “You would not regret it. The seas here can be very soothing.”

I didn’t want to make a scene, and so I continued on down to the water’s edge with him. I simply didn’t have it in me to argue. “Sure.” I could leave my shirt on. That would work.

Helori knelt and slipped my shoes off, carried them in one hand and took my hand again with the other as he led me over the fine-grained sand into the fringe of the surf. The water whooshed and swirled around my ankles in random, yet hypnotic movement. I didn’t pull away from him. The water seemed to help me forget, at least briefly, how broken I was.

He gradually led me deeper, keeping a comfortable hold on my hand. I didn’t fear the water or the depths. I was actually a really good swimmer, and didn’t need his hand for physical support, but I knew that wasn’t why he maintained the light grip. Looking out to the horizon, I tried to hold onto this sense of peace. I knew too damn well how fragile it was.

“How long do I have here?” I asked. “When did Mzatal say you have to bring me back?”

“He did not specify,” Helori replied. “It will fall to us to decide.”

My brow furrowed. “Us? What are you talking about?”

The syraza chimed softly. “Us. You and me. We will decide when to return.”

Frowning, I struggled to process this, but I couldn’t think straight enough for it to make sense. “Why would Mzatal let me have any say in when I returned?”

“You have all of the say,” Helori told me. “With me as guidance for as much as you will accept. You are not his prisoner.”

I stared at him, then laughed. “Oh, right. Is that what he told you?”

“Mzatal did not need to tell me,” Helori said as he led me a little deeper. “I know this. You are not a prisoner, and I am not your guard. He would have you work with him, but he will not force it.”