Titus and Dyre nodded and headed for the door, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. Sleep was in their near future, and their bodies seemed to have a head start.
Soren rested his hip against the table and leaned toward Savard. “You don’t look so good yourself.”
Rubbing his hands over his bare cheeks, Savard let out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t slept.”
“That’ll do it.” Soren crossed his arms over his chest, shifting back into serious mode. “What did I miss?”
He’d been so used to taking information and running with it, fixing problems without Lord Navarre ever having known they’d existed. Sharing this responsibility was strange. As acting captain, Soren needed this information. “Demons in Paris. None in Talvane.”
“How can that be? Talvane is actually in Paris.”
“None in Valenna, none in Talvane, and Galbraith is the only city left. I don’t like the odds.” Savard swept his hair off his face, combing the straight mass back over his head where it belonged. “If demons have not entered Galbraith, then we have a bigger problem.”
“How long has Vidor been gone?”
“Nine, ten days.” He didn’t care for these figures, either.
“He should have been back days ago,” Soren said, his voice flat.
The councilman had ventured to Galbraith out of concern for his niece’s safety, not a diplomatic mission. His timetable deserved some leeway. “True, but he left prior to the attack. He wouldn’t have a reason to rush home. He may only be visiting.”
“Maybe.” Soren pondered the thought for a moment; then his eyes lifted, sharp and focused. “Captain, I didn’t stop by to chat.”
“What is it?”
“Steffen is causing problems in the clinic.”
“I’ll take care of it now,” Savard said, squaring his shoulders and marching out of the room.
This is how his life progressed lately. The second a problem was resolved or questions answered, another issue arose. Once more, he was on the move, this time to an injured Guardian.
The demons had left their mark on Steffen. Jagged, silvery scars scattered across his back, some thick knots beneath his flesh left behind from where a demon had twisted a knife. The fact that the Gatekeeper had been stabbed and weakened hadn’t been a surprise to anyone. The strategy itself was calculated and logical, but Savard couldn’t get over the brutality of what they’d done. Demons hadn’t just weakened him beyond the point of putting up a fight. They’d sliced through his hamstrings, rendering his legs completely useless.
Help hadn’t reached the Gatekeeper in time, and once it had arrived, Steffen was not the first priority. Lives were saved first, broken bodies salvaged second. In the time it took to tend to him, his wounds had closed over and mended, his badly damaged tendons fusing together incorrectly. Steffen limped and would likely do so for the remainder of his life.
Savard stepped through the doorway of the clinic’s rehabilitation room. Mousy, sweet Elin sat on the floor facing Steffen, coaching him as he looped a stretching band around his foot and wrapped the ends around his wrists.
Elin was the closest thing they had to a doctor. Her father, Dr. Murrell, had been killed in the attack, and she’d stepped in without being asked. Several citizens had opposed her filling the gap, not because she was a woman, but because she’d been a respectable woman who’d known how to use a sword and had killed at least one demon in the attack. Unacceptable to the aristocracy, shocking to everyone else.
With her parents dead and society shunning her, she had nothing left but the clinic. Thankfully most of the Guardians didn’t seem to care one way or the other about her ability to use a weapon. As long as she could patch them up and keep them going, they were happy, but then came the problem of Steffen. Every night she diligently worked with him to stretch and strengthen his marred tendons. Every night, Steffen fought her, just as he did now.
Steffen pulled his body forward and his face contorted with the effort, but he only pulled harder. Elin caught that same reaction and knelt at his side, facing him.
“You can stop,” she said gently. When her persuasion failed to make an impact, she tried again. “Steffen, that’s enough.”
Steffen refused to look at her, or obey. Instead he twisted the bands tighter around his hands, increasing the tension. Elin’s eyes widened, and she drove her shoulder into his. Her knees dug into the mat as she surged forward.
Steffen grunted, her strength an unexpected surprise. She nearly had him sitting upright, completely out of the stretch, but then he regained his balance and pushed back.
“Are you trying to land in my lap?” Steffen snapped.
“I don’t like you that much.” Elin kept him propped upright as best she could, her shoulder still wedged under his. “You push too hard and you’ll split your hamstrings wide open again.”
Steffen clenched his teeth, unwilling to give up the fight. Time to end this.
“Steffen,” Savard called from the doorway. His presence startled them both, but neither relented. “Let her do her job.”
“I don’t want to be here, Captain,” Steffen said, his jaw clenched.
“But you are.” He dropped to a crouch before Steffen’s hunched body.
Steffen glared at him. “I want Ivan away from my gates.”
He’d reached his limit of what he’d take from Steffen, just as Elin had. “Work with Elin. Until she clears you, Ivan is my Gatekeeper.”
Steffen’s lip twitched, but he didn’t speak. He suddenly straightened, forcing Elin to reach out for the ground to catch her balance.
Elin rolled her shoulder, worked out her stressed muscles as she stepped between them and faced Steffen.
“Wait in the office. I’ll be right in to wrap your knees. We’re done for today,” she said quietly. Steffen struggled to his feet, then limped into the next room. The door slammed shut, and Elin spun to face Savard. “You shouldn’t have done that, not with me here. He has so little, at least give him his pride.”
“So I should give him his pride and leave him with no legs, or worse, no life?” He paused, lowering his voice, but not the intensity. “He’s my Guardian and I want him back. That gate is the only leverage I have, and I’ll use it any way I must to save his life.”
“He’d really go into the sun over his legs?”
He nodded. “I’ve nearly lost him in the past over less.”
Elin brushed back a mess of stray hairs dangling loose from her braid. “I’ll do what I can for him.”
“I’m certain you will.” He glanced around the room, making certain they were alone. “How’s Navarre?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.” Elin plunked down on a nearby bench and rubbed her forehead, trying to hide the sudden pang of sorrow at the mention of her father, but Savard had noticed her drawn eyebrows and quivering chin. She took a long breath, then cleared her throat. “Dad taught me to pull out what didn’t belong, sew up anything gaping, set bones immediately, and that tendons are a bitch. The rest I’m making up as I go.”
“I’m not asking for a miracle, just your best guess. Will he live?”
“He’s nowhere near conscious. Blood pressure is crazy low. The skin hasn’t healed. I don’t think it’s even trying.” Elin lifted her shoulder slightly. “If I had to guess, I’d say Navarre hadn’t fed regularly, or recently. His body pulled him into a healing sleep with