‘Patrus … What are you doing here?’
‘Come to … to persuade you. Obviously.’ The only thing that’s obvious is that he’s drunk. He’s wearing a robe and carrying the wooden rod that he had in his hand at Deaufleur. ‘It’s time to …’ He pauses, swaying slightly, and blinks at the telescope that is sitting on the table between us. ‘What is this?’
‘A telescope.’
‘Telescope. You know what this is?’ He points at the wooden rod.
‘It’s a stick. Please leave my apartment.’
‘No. It’s a rod of –’ he belches – ‘correction. For flightless servants. And disobedient wives.’
I remember his determination to inflict suffering at Deaufleur, and his dead wives, and Aron’s insinuations, and a horrible suspicion crawls into my brain. I back away from him.
‘I am not your wife, and I never will be. You’re a monster. Now get out.’
But he doesn’t move. Instead he raises the rod and sweeps the telescope, stand and all, onto the floor. Glass shatters, and scatters across the floor.
‘What have you done? That was my mother’s telescope, you –’
Patrus raises the rod again. ‘My telescope. Just like you’re mine, and Atratys is mine. Now get changed. We’ll fly …’ he pauses, shakes his head, ‘we’ll fly from here. Get married in my castle tomorrow.’
He’s even drunker than I thought, if he believes he can force me to transform. I glance at the bell pull on the other side of the room, and back at Patrus’s swaying from. Surely, surely I must be able to get there before him …
I dart out from behind the table, flinging myself forward –
Pain flares in my shoulders and my hands as he knocks the breath out of me, knocks me to the ground onto the broken glass. Patrus’s arm is raised for another blow, so I kick him in the groin as hard as I can and he drops the rod, bellowing, but as I try to get up he grabs at me, knocking me forward onto my knees, grabs again and I feel his nails scrape my skin as the back of my dress gives way. In front of me is a table, Letya’s knitting lying on the surface. I glance behind me, and Patrus is reaching for the rod again, so I lunge for the knitting needles, snatch them up, swing my arm up and back as hard as I can as my assailant stumbles –
Patrus screams. Falls. The door to my apartment slams open.
‘Aderyn!’ Lucien runs to the bell pull and yanks it violently. Then he is next to me, his hands on my shoulders. ‘Aderyn, look at me. Are you hurt?’
I burst into tears.
‘Aderyn … I’m here.’ He puts his arms around me and holds me tightly until my sobs have subsided. ‘You’re safe. Just tell me what happened.’
‘He broke my telescope, and he wanted me to leave with him, and he hit me, so I … I …’ I drag a hand across my cheeks. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’ Patrus is lying on his side, writhing and moaning, clutching his face. ‘Is he dying? Why’s it so cold in here?’
‘You’re in shock.’ Lucien drags a coverlet off the nearest sofa and wraps it around my shoulders.
Letya appears in the doorway and gasps. ‘Oh, Aderyn –’
‘Letya,’ Lucien orders, ‘find the guest master. Tell him there’s been an accident and we need guards and a doctor.’
She runs off, and I have nothing to do but wait; my arms and legs are shaking so badly I couldn’t move if I wanted to. Lucien stays next to me on the floor, even when Letya returns with the guest master, a doctor and three Dark Guards. The doctor examines Patrus, and then he and the guest master approach us.
‘Well?’ Lucien asks.
‘The eye has been damaged beyond repair and should be removed to avoid infection. However, I believe His Grace will otherwise make a full recovery.’
‘Lucky for him.’ Lucien beckons to the guest master. ‘Get him out of here. And if the members of Convocation have not been informed of this attack on Atratys by the time I leave this room, I will hold you personally responsible.’
‘Of course, my lord. May I say that I am deeply shocked that such an event could –’
‘Go away.’ I don’t speak loudly, but the guest master jumps, bows and almost runs to hurry the guards carrying Patrus from the room.
‘Your Grace …’ The doctor is kneeling in front of me. ‘May I examine you? If there is any dispute as to events here this evening –’
‘How can there be any dispute?’ Lucien puts his arm around me. ‘He was in her room.’
‘Lucien … I don’t mind.’
He scowls at the doctor, but doesn’t say anything as he helps me up onto the sofa.
‘Now, I see there are cuts on your hands. I’m afraid I’ll have to remove this glass …’ I close my eyes tightly and grit my teeth as the doctor picks out the shards with a pair of tweezers. The pain seems to go on forever, but Lucien keeps holding me, and finally it does end. The doctor applies something cool and soothing and bandages my palms.
‘Well done, Your Grace. Are there any other injuries?’
‘My shoulders. He hit me, with that.’ I nod towards the stick still lying on the carpet.
‘If you’ll just remove the blanket …’
I hesitate, glancing at Lucien.
‘Aderyn? What’s the matter?’
‘My back’s very scarred. I don’t like people looking at it.’
‘It’s only me and the doctor. And it can’t be that bad.’
A wave of exhaustion crashes over me and I yawn; I’m simply too tired to argue. Pushing the blanket back off my shoulders, I sweep my hair forward.
‘Oh.’ The doctor sounds shocked. ‘I’m so sorry, Your Grace.’ He clears his throat. ‘But luckily the fresh wounds are only superficial. They should heal quickly, even over the scar tissue. I’ll clean them, then mix up a salve that can be applied twice a day.’
‘I can do that,’ Letya offers. The doctor draws her aside, giving instructions in a low voice, and Lucien replaces the coverlet around my shoulders. He sits down next to me on the sofa. ‘Why did you never tell me?’
‘You knew I was attacked when my mother was killed.’
‘Yes, but – I thought you’d escaped with a few scratches. I didn’t realise how much they’d hurt you. Is it still painful?’
‘Sometimes. If my skin gets too dry. It was agony at first, especially when I tried to transform, but now –’ I stop, before I accidently mention the potion Siegfried’s been giving me. ‘The scars further down are from talons. The ones at the top are from a beak. One of the hawks caught hold of me, then started trying to … trying to …’ I don’t know why I can’t say the words; when I close my eyes, I can still feel the talons piercing my lower back, while the beak tears strips of flesh away from my shoulders. ‘I’m lucky really. My spine could have been destroyed.’
I look up and find Lucien watching me, a stricken expression on his face. I suddenly remember the way my father used to stand at my bedside and gaze at me when I was recovering from the attack, his face a mask of distress and grief. For weeks he was too frightened to touch me, in case it somehow made the pain worse.