Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Seventy Two: Incentives

"This doesn't make us friends," Nova said through gritted teeth.

Jeorge paused in bandaging her fingers; her grapple with the Angel spy had left them torn and bleeding, though she hadn't noticed in the chaos.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, resuming his work. He had already treated her other wounds, and she was eager for him to finish with these so she could escape him. He had been the only one available to treat her, much to her disgust, but the castle-hired physicians were overrun with wounded soldiers and the Unspoken medics had no small job on their hands either.

"You keep giving me that look," she said, "Like you're waiting for me to say something."

She looked over at Grace, who was still sitting beside her brother in the Unspoken section of the makeshift Medica. Her face was stained from crying. Jordan, on the other hand, stared vacantly ahead, a small green flame burning in his palm. He watched it like he expected it to vanish at any moment. His entire left arm was red with dried blood. The only sign of life from him since his magic had returned was a slow shuffle to sit beside his tutor's bed, even as his aura was rioting with so many emotions Nova couldn't keep up.

"I am," Jeorge said. "Though apparently not what you think I'm expecting you to say."

Nova tore her eyes from Grace. She jerked her chin up. "Fine then. What are you hoping I'll say?"

"Who do you think the spy was from?"

"That's a stupid question and we both know it." Nova shuddered as an image of her uncle's face flashed into her mind, followed by a replay of the fight with the spy. She had notified Harkenn of his presence, but had no idea what had become of him. She didn't particularly care, either.

"Not necessarily," Jeorge replied. "I find it very hard to believe that a Caelum-trained spy couldn't have found his way out of this castle by himself if the need arose. Their job depends on speedy getaways. Don't you think he might have scouted every possible exit before setting foot in this place?"

Nova scowled, but couldn't find a fault in Nerahardt's logic. There was no good reason a well-trained spy wouldn't have been able to find a way out, which either meant he wasn't a good spy, or he had come back specifically for her. He hadn't been sent to kill her, then; an assassination would never have been so drawn out. He would have cut her throat while he had the advantage of surprise. He had been trying to take her somewhere, then. Or to someone.

"See?" Jeorge said, clearly seeing it dawn on her. "So... Who sent him? I doubt your uncle expected him to get you out of the city without being caught. But a meeting place, maybe. A safehouse for an ally."

"Why would Lucifer want me out of the city?" Nova said, "There's no way he'd want me back."

"Which means whoever wanted you, for whatever reason, is still in the city."

Nova glanced around the room again, not wanting Jeorge to see how hunted she felt. She was relieved to find Grace crossing the room to her – an escape.

"Hi," Grace said, then to Jeorge a somewhat colder, "Well met."

Jeorge took the hint and limped away with one last meaningful look at Nova.

"How is he?" Nova asked, meaning Jordan, though it felt a little strange to be asking. Grace had been one of the first people to care how she was in a very long time, and Nova didn't want to look ungrateful by never returning the favour. Even if she barely knew Jordan, she knew that how he was affected how Grace was, and that was close enough for her.

She didn't remember when she'd become such a sap.

"He won't talk," Grace said. She looked back over her shoulder, sniffing deeply. "He just keeps staring."