To heal a Rogue

LYSANDER

I was off her before the second knock finished landing, already reaching for my trousers on the floor.

"What happened?" I called through the door, my voice rougher than I wanted it to sound.

"It has to do with the private quarters of the rogue, Your Majesty," the sentinel said. "There’s been an attack there. We believe it has to do with a potential jailbreak."

I froze for half a second, the words landing strangely in my chest, before my hands resumed their frantic work, fingers fumbling over buttons, missing them, then going back to fix them.

Behind me, Bonnie pushed herself upright, the sheet slipping loosely around her body, her hair a tangled mess I knew I was responsible for. I turned to look at her before I could stop myself.

"I’m sorry," I said. "I didn’t want to—"

"Duty calls." There was something wry in Bonnie’s voice, enough to tell me she wasn’t actually annoyed, only as breathless as I still was. "Go."

"Don’t sleep." I crossed to her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, quick enough to be practical, though I let it linger a second longer than the moment called for. "I mean it."

"I heard you the first four times, and I don’t think I am ready to die just yet."

The faint curve of her mouth made it clear she was enjoying my concern far more than she intended to admit.

I opened the door before I let myself look back again, because if I looked back again I wasn’t sure I’d manage to leave at all.

The sentinel standing there startled slightly when my eyes landed on him, and behind him, further down the corridor, Delta was already approaching, alerted by the noise.

"Stay with her," I said to Delta, low, and she nodded once, already moving past the sentinel toward the door.

I fell into step beside the sentinel as he turned and started walking fast.

"Tell me everything," I said.

"I don’t know much myself, Your Majesty," he said, his breath coming quick, whether from the walk or from nerves I couldn’t tell. "From what we got off the sentinels on watch, they were attacked by a woman. She looked like she was a working healer. Had the dress and everything."

"More traitors," I said, something cold settling into my stomach.

"The second the sentinel force got word, we mobilized fully," he said. "Beta Bradley told me to come find you directly to inform you about what was happening as well."

We reached the corridor leading to the private wards, and the first thing I saw was a head, or what remained of one, sitting in a mess against the wall, blood arcing up in a pattern that made my stomach turn even after everything I’d already survived and already seen and done. It was violent for the pleasure of it.

I stepped past it into the main room and found Bradley standing in the center, furious in a way I hadn’t seen from him yet, his jaw tight enough that I could see the muscle working from across the room. Four sentinels stood scattered around the space, weapons still drawn, eyes darting like they expected the walls themselves to attack next.

The bed where they’d chained the rogue sat empty. There was no body. No head, popped or otherwise. All that was in that space was an empty frame and restraints hanging loose where a man should have been.

"What the fuck happened?" I demanded.

"I’m not certain yet," Bradley replied, his voice tight and controlled in the way of a man holding himself together through sheer will. "We thought we had the bastard secured. By the time I arrived, both the infiltrator and the rogue were gone entirely. This was calculated, Your Majesty. I can’t believe they actually succeeded."

"It’s not your fault," I said, though the words came out flatter than I meant them to, my mind already racing ahead toward every possible explanation.

"What did the infiltrator look like? And can you at least get them? The sentinel who told me what happened told me they are believed to be a healer."

"I’ve already sent sentinels to pull the security records," Bradley said. "They should be back any moment now, along with a healer familiar with most of the staff faces around here, and that delicate I told you I would hire is on her way as well. We’ll find something."

"I do find it interesting," He continued, "that we’re attacked the same night an old face returns home."

My eyes cut to him sharply. "You warned me about drawing conclusions without evidence."

"I did," he said. "I’m simply noting the timing."

"Well, we still need evidence."

"Oh, I’ll find this one," he said, something dark and certain settling into his voice. "I know I have them cornered already. The Queen wants a DNA test for her son. If she wants the truth about his parentage to come out publicly, that’s fine by me. And if by some miracle he does turn out to be the late King’s blood, then there has to be another reason entirely for why Cornelius lied to you and me the way he did. A delicate will find that answer regardless since we will have something precious of the Prince in our hands. His blood."

A sentinel came jogging in at that moment, sweat darkening the collar of his uniform, a tablet clutched tightly in both hands. A healer hurried after him, visibly shaken, her face pale and her eyes too wide, as though she were still trying to process whatever violence she had witnessed on the way here.

"I found something." The sentinel struggled to catch his breath as he held the tablet out toward Bradley.

Bradley took it, and I moved to his shoulder, watching the footage with him.

A woman in a healer’s uniform appeared on the screen, walking calmly down the corridor. There was nothing hurried about her movements. If anything, she looked almost leisurely.

Then she glanced up.

Straight at the camera.

She raised one hand in a small, lazy wave, almost as though she were saying hello.

The feed immediately scrambled.

Static tore across the screen, swallowing the image in a violent burst before the display went completely black.

"The camera was fried when I checked it in person," the sentinel explained. "The whole thing melted from the inside. Wires and everything."

"Magic." Bradley’s voice dropped. "It has to be."

He then turned toward the healer standing behind the sentinel, who was still trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Do you recognize this woman?"

He held the tablet out to her.

The healer’s entire body seemed to fold inward. Her breath caught sharply, and her eyes locked onto the frozen image.

"This cannot be the case." Her voice cracked. "She’s one of our own. She’s good. She’s not a killer."

Bradley’s expression remained hard.

"So you know her? That is what I am getting."

The healer said nothing. Her gaze flicked between the woman on the tablet and the people surrounding her, as though searching for some way out of the answer she already knew she had to give.

"Give me a name."

Bradley’s voice dropped, quiet enough to be more threatening than a shout.

"Now."

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