“She’s bleeding,” said little Ryon, scowling at me as he closed and locked the door. “Why? More baddies? You promised they was gone.”

“They are, and I don’t yet know why she’s bleeding, but I do know one of your beautiful pictures will go a long way in making her feel better.”

When he didn’t move, Olivianna placed her hands upon her hips. With her back to me, she gave her son a look I couldn’t see.

He sighed, stomping past gowns that swished and up the wooden steps a moment later.

Olivianna turned, the layers of violet frills cascading from her waist like that of a spinning waterfall. Hypnotized and trying to better clear my vision, I blinked and stared and blinked some more. Her cream blouse, tucked into the elastic waistband, was speckled with blood.

“I ruined your blouse,” I croaked.

Olivianna peered down at it, frowning. “You can make it up to me by telling me where you disappeared to. I’ve still got those gowns of yours, you know.” Gathering her skirts, she headed upstairs as I recalled how I’d fretted when Scythe had asked her to make me some. “All five of them gathering dust and taking up much-needed space in my storeroom.”

Guilt needled at my blistering skin.

A growing light lured my eyes to the window, and I winced as the sun breached the dark clouds. People passed and clustered out on the streets, going about their lives. It gave me a modicum of hope, but not enough that I could keep from asking when Olivianna returned with a bowl of water and a cloth, “Is he okay?”

“Lie down,” she said, and I did so gladly. The tea-tree aroma of the water warned me of the sting before the cloth was dipped and wrung and pressed to my arm. “Scythe?”

“Yes,” I said with a hiss, Olivianna dabbing at cuts I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Define okay,” she said with a snort, but when she found me waiting, she sighed. “He’s just fine. Now tell me what happened.”

Unable to hide my relief, I let it fall through my slumping body. “I broke a potion,” I admitted a moment later. “I think.”

Her golden eyes tipped up to mine. “You’re lucky to be breathing.” I didn’t argue that, though each breath was labored. She pressed me with more questions, but now that I knew he lived, the exhaustion attacked from all sides, tinting the edges of my vision with darkness.

Seemingly aware, Olivianna murmured, “They’re mostly scratches, but your hand…” Turning it over in her own, she clucked her tongue. “That’s deep enough to need assistance. May I?”

I nodded as best I could, my eyes falling closed. “So they came.”

She cleaned the cut, asking, “Who?” as the cloth fell into the bowl with a slosh.

“Marvis’ mortal army.”