The Carnelian Way

19

Rina raced into the common room and found a dishevelled Anat, a trail of blood trickling down her temple and tracks of black kohl running under her eyes. What in the nine hells? Pieces of broken porcelain scattered the floor about her. Anat paced about the room, picked up another vase and threw it, smashing it against the wall, then fisted her hands in her hair and shrieked.

Ice streaked through Rina's veins. She fell with a crack of kneecaps on marble tile.

"Anat!" Sara rushed into the room, a wraith in her pale white nightgown. "Anat! What are you doing? No, stop it!" A pot smashed. Sara's body slammed into something invisible, and she flew back, landing on her backside. Groaning, Sara rolled over to hands and knees. "Anat—"

Another howl ripped through the room, and the windows shattered, the glass falling like hail on cobblestones.

When the wail ended, and she could move again, Rina shoved Mai's cloak under a chair and crawled toward Anat, vaguely aware of the heads poking from the corridor and the thumps of footsteps approaching the room.

"Please, Anat!" Sara had stood and now struggled against an invisible wall, but Anat screamed again, this time higher.

Stabbing pain crashed through Rina's skull. Unable to think through the noise and throbbing, she pressed her palms to the side of her head.

Not until the wailing died to sobs could her mind begin to sort through the pieces about her. The scent of blood permeated the air, acrid and metallic. It was thick with it. But there had just been the blood down Anat's temple. She sniffed. No, there was more of it, and something else. Sweat and—Oh, gods.

"I'm here." Sara pounded on the barrier. Anat crumpled to the ground, and Sara fell through it and bolted to Anat. Rina scurried across the floor on all fours but stilled at Sara's upheld palm.

Sara took Anat in her arms and cooed to her. "Shh, shh." She rocked Anat as she sobbed. Watching on, Rina swallowed, tightness in the back of her throat. Please, no. Not that.

After a time, Sara said, "Tell me, dear one."

Anat began to mumble. Sara lowered her head so Anat could speak in her ear, and her face blanched, the kind mouth twisting into something full of hate. Rina's stomach wrenched.

The rumble of boots thumping in synchrony intensified. The door swung open, banging against the wall, and six guards entered the room, escorting high-magister Ro, Nab and Anya.

"What happened?"

Anat curled into Sara's lap, whimpering.

Sara glared at Ro. "She was hurt—bad."

Ro's eyes flicked to Anat's bloody face, then down her body to where a wet, dark patch marred her burgundy gown. "Anya."

"High-magister?"

"Take her to the infirmary," Ro said, her voice softening to something low and deadly. "And have her seen to."

"Yes, your excellency."

It took some convincing on Sara's part to get Anat to leave her arms. In the end, Sara and Anya both walked Anat from the room. A pair of servants slipped into the room with buckets, broom and scrubbing brushes. They set to work cleaning the blood and clearing the pottery. Rina exhaled, relieved that red puddle would soon be gone.

Mutters arose from the Denese women, speculations about what had happened. Had Anat finally cracked it?

Ro spun to the chosen girls. "Get to bed with you. In the morning, this will be forgotten." They fled to their rooms, and Ro rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and left the room.