Rehv’s eyes opened, and the amethyst color was dulled to a murky bruised purple. “It’s the king.”
“S’up.”
Trez shut the doors, parking it to the side and not in the middle to block the way as a measure of respect. “I already offered them libations and eats.”
“Thanks, Trez.” Rehv grimaced and made a move to push himself off the pillows. When he just sagged, Xhex leaned in to help him, and he shot her a glare that smacked of don’t-even-think-about-it. Which she ignored.
After he was settled upright, he pulled the duvet up to his neck, covering the red stars tatted on his chest. “So I have something for you, Wrath.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Rehv nodded at Xhex, who reached into the leather jacket she was wearing. The instant she moved, V’s gun muzzle flipped up quick as a blink, aimed square at the female’s heart.
“You want to slow that roll?” she snapped to V.
“Not in the slightest. Sorry.” V sounded about as sorry as a wrecking ball in midswing.
“Okay, let’s just relax,” Wrath said, and inclined his head toward Xhex. “Go ahead.”
The female pulled free a velvet bag and tossed it in Wrath’s direction. As it came at him, he heard the soft whistle of its flight and caught the thing not by sight, but by sound.
Inside were two pale blue eyes.
“So, I had an interesting meeting last night,” Rehv drawled.
Wrath looked at the symphath. “Whose blank stare do I have in my palm.”
“Montrag, son of Rehm. He came to me and asked me to kill you. You got deep enemies in the glymera, my friend, and Montrag’s only one of them. I don’t know who else was in on the plot, but I wasn’t taking any chances at finding out before we took action.”
Wrath put the eyes back in the bag and closed his fist around them. “When were they going to do it.”
“At the council meeting, the night after tomorrow.”
“Son of a bitch.”
V put his gun away and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I despise those motherfuckers.”
“Speaking to the choir,” Rehv said before refocusing on Wrath. “I didn’t come to you before I solved the problem because I’m kind of sweet on the idea of the king owing me something.”
Wrath had to laugh. “Sin-eater.”
“You know it.”
Wrath jogged the bag in his hand. “When did this happen?”
“About a half hour ago,” Xhex answered. “I didn’t clean up after myself.”
“Well, they’ll certainly get the message. And I’m still going to that meeting.”
“You sure that’s wise?” Rehv said. “Whoever else is behind this will not come to me again, because they know where my loyalties appear to lie. But that doesn’t mean they won’t find someone else.”
“So let them,” Wrath said. “I’m down with mortal combat.” He glanced at Xhex. “Montrag implicate anyone?”
“I slit his throat from ear to ear. Talk was tough.”
Wrath smiled and glanced at V. “You know, it’s kind of a surprise you two don’t get along better.”
“Not really,” they said at the same time.
“I can postpone the council meeting,” Rehv murmured. “If you want to do recon yourself to see who else was involved.”
“Nope. If they had balls of any size, they’d have tried to kill me themselves, not get you to do it. So one of two things is going to happen. Since they don’t know whether Montrag outted them before he became visually impaired, they’re either going to go into hiding, because that’s what cowards do, or they’re going to shift the blame to someone else. So the meeting goes on.”
Rehv smiled darkly, the symphath in him obvious. “As you wish.”
“I want an honest answer from you, though,” Wrath said.
“What’s the question.”
“For real, did you think about killing me? When he asked.”
Rehv was a silent for a bit. Then he slowly nodded. “Yeah, I did. But like I said, you owe me now, and given my…circumstances of birth, as it were…that’s far more valuable than what any smarmy-ass aristocrat can do for me.”
Wrath nodded once. “That’s logic I can respect.”
“Plus, let’s face it”-Rehv smiled again-“my sister’s married into the family.”
“That she has, symphath. That she has.”
After Ehlena put the ambulance in the garage, she went across the parking lot and down into the clinic. She needed to get her things from her locker, but that wasn’t what was driving her. Usually at this time of night, Havers would be doing charts in his office, and that was where she headed. When she came up to his door, she took her scrunchie out, smoothed back her hair, and tightly knotted it at the base of her neck. Her coat was still on, but even though it hadn’t been that expensive, it was made of black wool and looked tailored, so she figured she looked okay.
She knocked on the jamb, and when a cultured voice called out, she went in. Havers’s former office had been a splendid old-world study, filled with antiques and leather-bound books. Now that they were at this new clinic, his private workspace was no different from anyone else’s: white walls, linoleum floor, stainless-steel desk, black rolling chair.
“Ehlena,” he said as he glanced up from the charts he was reviewing. “How fare you?”
“Stephan is where he belongs-”
“My dear, I had no idea you knew him. Catya told me.”
“I…did.” But maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned that to the female.
“Dearest Virgin Scribe, why didn’t you say?”
“Because I wanted to honor him.”
Havers removed his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Alas, that is something I can understand. Still, I wish I had known. Dealing with the dead is never easy, but it is especially hard if they are of personal acquaintance.”
“Catya has given me the rest of the shift off-”
“Yes, I told her to. You have had a long night.”
“Well, thank you. Before I leave, though, I want to ask you about another patient.”
Havers put his glasses back on. “Of course. Which one?”
“Rehvenge. He came in last evening.”
“So I recall. Is he having some difficulty with his medications?”
“Did you by any chance see his arm?”
“Arm?”
“The infection in the veins on the right side.”
The race’s physician pushed his tortoiseshell glasses up on his nose. “He didn’t indicate that his arm was giving him bother. If he wants to come back in and see me, I’ll be happy to look at it. But as you know, I can’t prescribe anything without examining him.”
Ehlena opened her mouth to argue when another nurse poked her head in. “Doctor?” the female said. “Your patient is ready in exam room four.”
“Thank you.” Havers looked back at Ehlena. “Now do go home and have a rest.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
She ducked out of his office and watched the race’s physician hurry off and disappear around the corner.
Rehvenge wasn’t coming back in here to see Havers. No way. One, he’d sounded too sick to, and two, he’d already proven he was a hardheaded idiot when he’d deliberately hidden that infection from the doctor.
Stupid. Male.
And she was stupid as well, considering what was banging around in her head.
Generally speaking, ethics were never a problem for her: Doing the right thing didn’t require thought or a negotiation of principles or a cost-and-benefit calculation. For example, it would be wrong to go into the clinic’s supply of penicillin and lift, oh, say, eighty five-hundred-milligram tablets.
Especially if you were giving those tablets to a patient who had not been seen by the doctor for the ailment being treated.