THE NIGHT HEALER IS DEAD

Elaris's pov

I do not sleep after the guard tells me the night healer is dead.

I continue to sit on the edge of the bed for a long time after the corridor has returned to normal.

The news fundamentally changes what happens next.

The attendant is alive and weakened.

I see the night healer's written confession again, but the woman died before confirming everything she said.

And tomorrow night the council intends to place two pregnancies before the entire pack and refer to the examination as final judgment.

I turn to the door.

The enemy has stopped removing evidence.

In the best news, they've stopped removing people.

I'm finding it almost impossible to get past the thought that a dead witness cannot be browbeaten.

Cannot be convinced to retract statements.

Cannot deny what has been officially recorded.

Cannot appear before the shrine hall tomorrow and identify the woman who took Virelle's life.

I draw my knees up and will myself not to think about it.

The blood moon approaches regardless.

That is one thing they have not stolen from me.

Yet.

I force my body into stillness.

I do this not for peace, but to make sure the guards who still linger in this corridor receive nothing from me they can use against me later.

If I were to start having second thoughts right now, the council could decide I'm too distraught to undergo the examination.

If I were to throw up, they'd send me to the healers to discuss if my internal organs are still functioning properly.

And if my essence should drop, someone would use it to discredit me.

It is safer to give them nothing at all.

I maintain control long enough to finish the water on the bedside table and nibble the bread stale.

I wait for several minutes before I realize there is nothing at all happening inside me.

I begin to be concerned.

Then the child shifts against my palm, large and insistent.

The relief is so great that I quickly cover my hand with my other.

'You're still here,' I murmured.

Another minute passed before a smaller pressure informed me that not much has changed.

I bow my head.

'We're finding the moon.'

The statement may not inspire much confidence, but it is the best promise I can make to my child.

Morning passes without incident.

The chamber is unlocked long enough for the routine five minutes to start.

Averic comes with two observers.

He looks older, not injured, and not showing any signs of being tired enough for the others to question his fitness for the council.

I understand now why Virelle did not notice immediately.

His eyes are on me, and he knows already.

Neither of us mentions the woman's name at first.

One of the observers reads from the sheet of authorized topics for discussion.

Averic waits his turn.

'Maevra?' I asked.

'She is still alive.'

Good enough to live.

'And the examination?'

'Will take place tomorrow night.'

I don't ask for confirmation. He didn't offer it.

Our eyes met, and for once I don't have to guess what concerns Averic most at this moment.

The last convenient witness is dead.

The board has cleared.

The observer insists on limiting the conversation to approved topics of discussion.

Averic informs me Maevra is placed under constant medical supervision, and the shrine hall has been reinspected.

He confirmed that the council has assigned the two examinations to separate healers.

All statements are safe to repeat in public.

I focus on what Averic did not say.

No accusations.

No mention of any particular person, even indirectly.

No explanation of how the night healer died or who might have been responsible.

I finally asked, 'Did the council record her death?'

'Yes.'

'As what?"

His lips are pressed into a thin line.

"Complication arising from the draft."

My fingers curl against my skirt.

"The draft she was forced to undergo against her will?"

"The official report does not specify."

Of course, it does not.

The dead cannot object to the revision of events during their final hour.

Averic stares at me long enough to communicate that anger is not an option, and the reason why he was not going to correct the record.

The observer announced the final minute of our conversation.

Averic stood and adjusted the sleeve of his jacket as if preparing to leave an ordinary meeting.

He looked me in the eye and said, "Hold on to it until the day breaks."

I do not know what it refers to, although it could be any number of things.

It could refer to the examination or Maevra, either one, or none at all.

That is why it is a useful response.

I understand enough to nod.

The observers left.

Averic goes, and this time I do not watch him until he rounds the corner and is gone.

Instead I turned to the window.

Tomorrow the word became more tangible.

It was close enough to grab and dangerously close to slipping away altogether.

The day stretched into a test of endurance, not of strength or intellect, but of sheer willpower.

I ran myself up and down the chamber in steady, deliberate pacing, which I do this not to measure the distance but rather something else.

Counted the distance as if counting something else.

Ten steps and a pause and stretch to the left, then another ten, count to ten steps, and drink some water before eating something small and continuing.

My child is calmer today, and that is a good sign.

The weakness continues, but so will refuse to let it rule me with doubt and fear.

The council's attendant arrived for her medical check as I approached the fifth circuit.

She asked standard questions regarding food intake and bodily functions.

"How much did you eat?"

"Enough."

"Felt dizzy?"

"Sometimes."

"Pain?"

"Not that I've noticed."

She wrote them down as if recording them for official purposes.

"I wonder," I asked her, "if those notes are intended to be part of tomorrow's discussion?"

She hesitated.

"The council's medical staff maintains all patient records."

"I don't think that is what I asked."

She looked away.

I do not inquire further.

When she was gone, I understood another aspect of the council's procedures.

Tomorrow's discussion begins not with the moon, but with these papers.

Every statement I make today can be used against me by other people with less scruples than I possess.

Consequently, I am being very cautious with what I will say.

Afternoon brought the final logistical notice, the council arrangements to examine the two pregnancies tomorrow night.

The two women were to be brought to the old shrine hall in an hour before moonrise.

The council escort was to arrive separately for each of us.

No private meeting between the Alpha and either woman after the evening meal would be permitted.

The actual examinations will be conducted under direct council supervision and involve three trained healers.

Further witnesses will take part in tomorrow's proceedings.

The notice is specific enough, although not entirely reassuring.

I read through it twice before realizing there was one thing missing.

No reference to the inconsistency in Virelle's pregnancy records.

Nothing about the missing secondary resonance or the two healers requesting the observation be noted.

And certainly not anything regarding the questionable medical finding about to be performed on my own body that could have been considered grounds for reconsidering tomorrow's proceedings altogether.

The blood moon will be revealed tomorrow, apparently, when everyone has forgotten the reason so many wanted to see it in the first place.

I folded the note.

Whether the examination reveals the truth or not will have little bearing on that event.

Only that everyone will still be breathing when the moon rises.

The final five minute courtesy call was granted at the appointed hour.

Averic arrived with two observers and wasted no time on the notice on my table.

"You received it."

"Yes."

"The arrangements will not be altered."

I studied him.

"You seem quite sure of that."

"I see no reason for it to change."

I did not expect him to say yes, that the circumstances would be different, that the moon is full enough and no one will be harmed anyway.

The truth will always come out, he said, but never mind the details.

"You will be there when they begin."

I swallowed.

"And the child?"

His eyes dropped to the curve of my waist, a brief second of self-incrimination.

The child will not undergo the examination alone.

The remark did not sound like something Averic could say or should say, but the implications are unmistakable.

"Maevra?"

Averic looked up.

"Still holding on."

"Will she be there?"

"No."

I expected that answer.

Her condition makes such exertion quite impossible, but Averic studied me again and said, "I wish I could give you more than this."

"It is more than you should risk giving me."

He seemed disappointed with himself.

The observers announced the session was over, and Averic stood.

"Tomorrow," He paused to meet my eyes, "you will still be here."

I nodded.

This time, when he went, I allowed myself to watch him until the door was closed.

The chamber is locked tonight, and the guards explain the new procedures before resuming their posts.

The corridor will be clear of unscheduled servants, and no food will be delivered after the final meal, for security reasons.

Any disturbance will be interpreted as an attempt to sabotage the examinations.

I listened carefully and asked, "And if there were an emergency?"

"One of the healers assigned to us by the council will be available on short notice."

"And what if none of them can be reached?"

The guard told me the name of someone I don't know.

That should be good enough, if names comfort anyone at all.

Except, I find myself remembering the dead night healer instead.

Systems will fail.

Procedures continue without interruption long enough for someone to die, maybe more than one.

Tomorrow, when all of this has passed, the people in charge will have plenty of time to analyze each step to find where and in what exact manner they failed.

Tonight, however, will do just fine.

The passage fell silent, and I was left alone with my thoughts, for the time being.

For the first time since arriving in the east wing, the palace feels almost impossibly isolated, and that is when it ceases to be an effective shield against the thoughts I cannot stop.

Hours passed within the first dark stretch of the night before I forced myself to rise from the floor and slide back against the wall where my strength would not betray me.

Each hand rested flat, palm down, against either side of my abdomen.

My child moved several times in succession: One, then another, a pause, and three more for a total of six; the counting did not make me feel better, but it does something else entirely.

I remind myself that tomorrow night, while the moon rises, I will be standing in that hall with the council watching me.

Virelle will be there, and the healers will be there, as well.

They will touch both sides, examining us, finding the answers we found, and nothing will prevent it.

And then I remember the night healer.

I push back against the wall, and the image disappears, replaced by other thoughts.

Someone who knew what was coming has decided to reach that day without seeing it.

I shifted my weight again, already forgetting the sensation of the wall against my bare skin.

"One more night," I whispered to my growing child.

Outside the chamber, the guard changed shifts, and I could hear the metallic ring of his holter and the low thud of its discharge as it reached the far end of the corridor and went silent.

It was nearly midnight when I first smelled it, almost imperceptible; I thought I might have imagined it at first.

Then it was there, stronger and undeniably real: crushed botanicals and wolfsbane, but something else, as well...

Metallic... dry... bitter, an element that had not been present in recent pouches.

I turned toward the door as the second guard neared, following the first.

They both halted just inside the threshold, and I could see the outline against the dark floor, still growing stronger as though it had been pushing against us through the wall.

"What is it you smell?" one of the guards asked.

I pointed at the space just below the doorjamb, and the second guard came closer.

"What is this?" the first one asked the floor.

"This was burned out!" Averic said.

Averic was not satisfied with an explanation of circumstances, only an answer.

"If it will not harm the patients..."

"It isn't harmful to the patients!" I snapped. I wanted to add that no amount of poison is ever safe, but the first guard was already walking along the threshold.

At least until I forced myself to move, too.

The child in my abdomen moved in sudden, violent pulses, and a dull pressure rose in my chest as my wolf took control of my senses, reacting instinctively to the unfamiliar strength of the scent.

At first I did not register movement beyond the shifting shadows near the entryway.

Then more sounds, just as faint, from deeper inside the corridor: a grinding noise, and then a huff of air, as if the smoker had exhaled against the narrow opening.

The guards exchanged wary glances, and my pulse quickened.

Something was happening on the other side of that door, and if it were likely to stop that, it would be right at this moment.

"I wouldn't recommend opening the door!" one of the guards warned.

A moment passed; I was trying to think of a reason not to move away from the wall when the first of the two visitors slipped a thin thread of smoke through the gap at the bottom of the door.

It wove slowly across the floor and paused only long enough to gather another breath of air.

A second stream of smoke followed in succession, and this time the other guard took a step backward.

"This isn't incense!" he said, his voice edged with something dangerously close to panic.

I knew enough to say, and still, the first one moved toward the door anyway, testing the lock with the tip of his fingers.

"Wait!" I shouted, and if there was any fear in what I am saying, it was because I am certain of it right now, too.

He looked down.

"What do you mean, wait."

I stared at the space at floor level.

"It's coming through, isn't it?"

The guard nodded and drew back his hand.

I heard only then something stirring inside, just beneath the surface like movement at the edge of a dream.

A slow scrape, and something more came through the threshold and the scent of it has suddenly changed, no longer the familiar blend of wolfsbane and bales of dried herbs but something else, something more, something I am not quite certain of, and it did not occur to me, that the substance on the other side might not be liquid at all but powder, until the second guard moved a step closer and sniffed.

No.

It is not possible, I said to myself, but I am almost certain, that the smell is growing stronger, that it has somehow been directed right at me through the wall, and that, just possibly, the people are doing the same.

It was a long time before the second guard saw the thread of light, and when he did, it was moving in slow deliberate bands across the threshold, as if inspecting the room.

It is almost charming, but that is also when his companion took a breath and exhaled the word:

"Incense"

The guard turned to me, and for the first time since my arrest, I saw the look of genuine fear on the face of the council official.

"Stay above it," he said, and I climbed back onto the bed.

The scent grew stronger, filling the chamber, and the corridor remained empty.

No footsteps approached; No healers came to investigate.

The sealed off sanctum had been transformed into a trap, and I heard the faintest sound from beneath the floorboards, just on the other side of the door.

A slow, rhythmic scraping sound, as if something were being pushed toward us, and the blood moon was still hours away, and whoever had been keeping watch for it would rather die.