“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad to be here.” The young man bowed and went out.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” asked Kordira, rising to go.

“Thank you, but I think I just need to rest.”

“Very well. I have a room down the corridor if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Seregil was asleep before the door closed behind her.

Chapter 22: Zella’s Return

IT was dark when Seregil woke, except for a crackling fire on the hearth. Grateful as he was for the warmth, he always disliked sleeping so deeply that someone could come and go without him waking. The small window was open, but the room was not unusually cold or damp. Perhaps the drowned lady had taken his advice.

Getting out of bed was a challenge. The bandages were stuck to his skin in places and pulled painfully as he moved. His back was getting better, but he still felt like he’d been beaten with fuller’s bats.

Not bothering with boots, he found the pot under the bed and used it, then went to the door in his stocking feet and opened it. Vhadä, who’d been sitting just outside, jumped up and made him an awkward bow.

“Hello, Seregil. Mistress Khiria sent me to watch for you. She says you’re to stay in bed and she’ll have Mistress Sabriel send up some supper for you. I’m to take word of what you want.”

“Did she now? Well, I think I’ll do just that. Please tell Sabriel that I would like meat and lots of it, any fruit she might have, and very strong tea.”

“She has some honey cakes, too,” Vhadä informed him, looking rather hopeful.

“Well, then, I guess we better have some of those. Ask her to send up enough for two. And if you see the good doctor, please tell her I’m in need of her.”

He found some thin wax tapers in a cup on the mantel and used one to light the candles nearest the bed. As he settled in the armchair, he noticed that Alec had left the journal on the table. Opening it, he turned to the page with the portrait of the ’faie ghost the journal’s owner claimed to have seen at the oracle’s cave. Could this be Khazireen, Alec’s ghost in the dark? And if so, who was he?

A knock came at the door, and Kordira entered with a mug and her simples bag. Willow followed bearing a steaming basin and a pile of flannels over her arm.

“Will you let me change those bandages now?” Kordira asked.

Seregil nodded and accepted the mug. The contents smelled of brandy and herbs this time. He took a sip and made a face.

“It is bitter,” Kordira said with a laugh, “but it will make you feel better much more quickly than willow bark.”