‘Get out.’ There was a dangerous growl in de Florinville’s voice that startled me.
Rymark looked astonished. ‘But…’
‘Wait outside.’ The Dark Elf’s tone brooked no argument. He gave Rymark a hard glare. Only when the man had disappeared into the outer reception room where my shadow was located did de Florinville return to cutting off my dress. He sucked in a sharp breath when he reached my stomach, pausing to stare down. Well, I knew I didn’t have a pot belly; these days it was virtually concave.
Becoming more and more confused about what was going on, I frowned at him. This time his anger was palpable.
‘These bruises are recent but not immediately fresh. Someone else did this.’ Fury vibrated through his voice. ‘Was it the same person who broke your fingers?’
My jaw dropped open. Was he for real? He had caused those bruises when he’d slammed his fist into my shadow. Genuinely surprised, I could do little more than gape. De Florinville registered this and smoothed his expression, although it seemed to take some effort. ‘Never mind,’ he muttered. ‘You can tell me later.’
There was going to be a later? Well, that was good. Having my skin exposed to him made me feel vulnerable and that, coupled with the pain, fatigue and continued dizziness, made it difficult to think straight. I didn’t know why his touch felt different to anyone else’s but at least I didn’t have to recoil every time he drew near.
As far as I could work out, he didn’t know I was the wraith whose shadow was in the next room. I couldn’t decide what he thought I was but it definitely wasn’t his enemy. My bafflement had almost entirely replaced my fear.
De Florinville gently cut upwards, the cold steel of the scissors pressing against my skin from time to time. He was being very, very careful – until he reached above my ribcage. Alarmed, I realised what the problem was and jerked away.
‘What’s this for?’ he asked softly, his fingers brushing against Marrock’s dagger which lay against my side.
I swallowed. I could tell him that it was my last defence and that I’d planned to slide it in between his ribs if he tried to hurt me but somehow I didn’t think that would go down very well. Frankly, I was thankful that Ghrashbreg hadn’t noticed it. He’d have broken much more than my little fingers if he had. ‘It’s for protection,’ I whispered, speaking the truth.
‘You didn’t use it against the person who hurt you?’
No, I’d be dead if I’d tried. I shook my head mutely and wondered what de Florinville would do. While I remained rigid with tension, he unsnagged the blade and lifted the weapon before examining it. His jaw clenched then he laid it to one side and continued to peel away the rest of my dress. Although there was a strange, flaring heat in both his expression and his touch, I sensed that he was doing his best to be clinically professional. His manner didn’t really help much. I shivered, feeling like a meal being served up to him on a platter, even though I still had my grubby underwear on and I longed to feel his skin against mine again.
‘This won’t take long, buttercup,’ he murmured. ‘Relax.’
Relax? Buttercup? I opened my mouth to speak but his eyes closed and he began to mutter. I felt his fingertips graze my bruises and an even deeper warmth spread across my tender skin. With feather-light touches, he took hold of my right hand and breathed some more words. Again, I felt the same heat although this time it was coupled with a sudden easing of the pain.
It was difficult to keep my head raised while I was on my back but I still stared. Some swelling remained but, compared to only moments ago, my finger looked completely different. It was almost back to normal and I could flex it again. While de Florinville moved to my other hand, I realised he was healing me. I held up my hand in wonder and gazed at the Elf as he finished his ministrations. His expression was one of intense concentration but also pleasure.
When he was done, he stepped back. I felt a sense of hollow loss that he was no longer touching me. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.
‘Better,’ I admitted in a croaky whisper. Tired but definitely better.
I was also confused. I wasn’t sure what was going here and, even if I didn’t appear to be in immediate mortal danger, I wasn’t sure that I liked what was happening. Maybe the physical sensations that de Florinville’s touch aroused were different to what I was used to because of the physiognomy of a Dark Elf. After all, I’d never met one before now.
‘You need to rest.’ He drew up a blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over me with such gentleness that I almost cried. Almost. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said. Then, with a last long look at me, he turned, picked up Marrock’s dagger and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
The moment I heard the door click, I sprang up, kicking the blanket away. No matter how much sleep beckoned, I couldn’t close my eyes even briefly. I darted to the door and examined it with practiced eyes. He’d not locked me in.
I pressed my ear against its cool surface and listened. I could just make out the conversation beyond.
‘We need to get rid of the wraith,’ de Florinville was saying. ‘Now. It’s not safe. Not with Saiya here.’
That confirmed it: he didn’t realise that the wraith and I were one and the same. Maybe the Dark Elf wasn’t as intelligent as I’d believed. When he’d touched me, I could have sworn that he’d recognised me. The strange jolt of electricity had to have something to do with it. But this wasn’t the time to muse on it. I was on a rescue mission to save myself and even the bizarre antics of Gabriel de Florinville and my own body weren’t going to get in my way.
‘What should we do with him?’ Rymark asked.
‘Pass him over to the goblins,’ came de Florinville’s rejoinder. ‘It’s not what I’d normally suggest but it’s the best option now. Circumstances have changed.’
‘There’s still the possibility that it was the goblins who sent him here to kill you.’
‘Unlikely. Besides, it doesn’t matter now.’
There was a pause. When Rymark spoke again, he was hesitant. ‘What exactly is going on?’
‘My Fior Ghal.’
I pursed my lips. What?
Rymark’s voice rose. ‘No! Her? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure.’
‘That’s…’ Rymark stopped. He was obviously astonished.
‘I know.’
There was some shuffling. I wished I could see what the pair of them was doing. Was de Florinville going to drag my shadow to the Filits right now? In that scenario I’d have no choice but to spring out and attack, even if it was sure to spell disaster.
‘We should leave the wraith here,’ de Florinville continued. ‘We know he’s safely bound within the circle. I’ll go and tell Ghrashbreg what has happened and get him to deal with the vile creature.’ His voice hardened in a manner that made me shiver. ‘At the same time I can ask him exactly who hurt Saiya and why.’
Rymark’s answer was quiet. ‘And what if it was him? What if it was Ghrashbreg that broke her hands?’
‘I’ll kill him.’
I blinked.
‘I should go to Ghrashbreg,’ Rymark said with an audible gulp. ‘You can stay here with Saiya.’
‘The goblins will listen to me.’
‘Because you’re a Dark Elf and I’m a mere human?’
‘Sorry.’
There was another long pause. Rymark shouldn’t feel too bad about the blood running through his veins. He couldn’t help it – and at least he was only visiting Stirling. He didn’t have to live here. He should count himself lucky; avoiding contact with goblins was always a good thing.
‘You’ll have to tell Prime Minister James about her. This could have implications for the peace process, Gabriel.’
De Florinville snorted. ‘We both know that whatever they’re after, neither the Gneiss nor the Filits want peace. Stay here and don’t let anyone through that door. Saiya must be kept safe at all costs. With any luck I won’t be long.’
‘As you command.’
I heard more shuffling, then the sound of another door opening and closing. I turned, leaning my back against the door. Snooping around and listening in to secrets often raised more questions than answers but rarely were the questions so varied – or so personal. Why was my safety so important to Gabriel de Florinville? The promise I’d extracted from him didn’t extend this far. And what exactly was the Fior Ghal? Marrock would probably know. I wondered if he’d tell me, given what happened at our last encounter. I wondered if I’d survive long enough to ask him.
Rather than let my mind whirl with the permutations of my new circumstances, I left the door and headed for the large, heavy wardrobe in the far corner. De Florinville didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who lived out of a suitcase when he went visiting. When I opened the wardrobe doors, wincing slightly at the creak, I smiled. His clothes were hanging up in neat rows. With my poor dress well and truly done for, I needed something to wear even if it was for warmth rather than modesty.
I selected a white shirt and pulled it off its hanger before shrugging it on and doing up the buttons. It was massive on me, the shirt tails reaching down my to knees. It might have been freshly laundered but there was still the lingering scent of the Dark Elf’s masculinity clinging to the cotton. I paused to inhale before realising what I was doing. Shaking myself irritably, I nabbed a belt and hooked it round my waist. From the long mirror in the corner, the overall effect wasn’t too bad. I examined myself for a moment then retrieved my shoes. I didn’t have all night; Gabriel de Florinville would be back before too long and he’d have Ghrashbreg in tow. I had to vamoose.