Disclaimers: Same thing that everyone else says applies here. Language, Violence, Naughty Bits, blah blah blah.

Chapter 39

Bishop barely left my room before a quiet knock came at my door. At my response it opened carefully and Casavir stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. I sighed and held up a halting hand. "If you feel the need to lecture me, it has to wait. I need a bath before I can listen to it."

"I saw that you were bleeding. I came to see if you needed assistance," he said quietly.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I do." I rolled up the long sleeve of Bishop's shirt and held out my injured arm for inspection.

Taking my arm in a gentle yet firm grasp he looked over the wound carefully. "How bad was this originally?" he asked, pressing against the raw edges of the wound looking for any sign of infection.

"I don't know," I muttered through clenched teeth, trying my damnedest not to hiss at the pain. When he released my arm, it was hard to not cradle it protectively against my chest.

"You don't know?" he asked, gesturing for me to show him my side.

I turned over onto my hip and lifted the edge of the shirt, exposing the long expanse of stitching down my ribs. "I was fighting, and then I passed out. I don't remember anything before waking up to Bishop sewing my wrist back together."

The tightness between his brows became more pronounced as he looked along the ugly slice over my ribs, tracing with his eyes to where it disappeared into the waistline of my pants. "What happened to using all the healing potions Sand is always giving you?"

I smiled grimly. "We used them all. They couldn't heal these."

He didn't say a thing as he gestured that I could lower the shirt. He locked my gaze with his own. I could feel a feathers brush touch as the edges of his aura reached out ever so slightly to feel me. The brush stroked over me again and withdrew, a frown momentarily marring Casavir's handsome face. "I'll send someone to help you clean up," he said softly. "You should rest after that. There will be many people who will wish to speak with you. I'll make sure you're not disturbed until tomorrow."

I was surprised. I was expecting a lot more words from him that just this simple courtesy. "Thank you," I murmured. "Before you go, could you heal me? I would rest better with my skin intact."

He looked over me carefully, something like regret in his eyes. "I am afraid I can not my lady."

"Can not, or will not?" I called as he retreated towards the door

One hand on the handle, I heard him breathe deeply. "Will not." He left quietly, shutting the door softly behind him. I sat on the bed and wondered at his refusal. Always before he was quick to easy any hurt any of us had. Perhaps this was his way of getting back at me for going alone.

I didn't have time to ponder it long before the door opened again and Shandra walked in, directing a couple of footmen to place a copper tub near the fireplace in my room. Pail after pail of water was brought and dumped into the tub, the final footman muttering a small cantrip to heat the water to a comfortable temperature.

"I could have just gone to the bathing rooms," I said, watching the people parade in and out of my bedchamber.

"Casavir said you should wash in here. The pools would soak the stitches." I glanced at Shandra, her curt tone letting me know that she too wasn't pleased that I had gone off by myself.

"Strip," she commanded the moment the last servant left the room.

I gingerly pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it into a corner. The pants followed suit, landing on the discarded shirt in a bloodied heap. Shandra looked at me, the hard expression on her face softening as she glanced over the wounds. She shook her head. "Get in here and kneel." I did so, stepping into the warm water and sinking down, the water just reaching the top of my thighs. Picking up a ewer, she dumped it over my hair, soaking the matted dried blood. Water coursed down over my shoulders and chest, pink instead of clear. "What did you do, bathe in their blood?"

"Arterial spray. Open someone's neck when you're in front of them and it makes a mess," I said coolly.

She set the ewer down with a bang and grabbed the next one, empting it unceremoniously on my head. Spluttering, I wiped the water from my eyes and tried to glare at her. Grabbing my head she forced it forward. A hard bar of soap appeared in her hand and roughly she began rubbing it over my hair. Once she had a suitable lather she rinsed it and started the process all over again. It wasn't until the water ran clear and the water in the tub had turned a disturbing shade of rose that she finally stopped. My scalp felt raw from the harsh soap and the vigorous handling she had treated me to.

I eyed the soap warily as she scrubbed it across a sponge. "I take it you're mad at me as well."

"Mad, why should I be mad? Someone I care about ran off alone in the middle of the night on a suicide mission without letting anyone know where she was going. The only person she had to help her was a man who would sooner kill someone than give them a hand. We have to spend days wondering if she is alive or dead, and then she comes back carved up like a Winter Solstice roast!"

"It was something I needed to do alone," I said quietly. "You of all people should understand that."

"Well, I don't. When Ember was razed, every one of you helped to make sure justice was found. Never once did I feel like I needed to do it alone." She tossed the sponge into the water with a wet slap. "Gods, Kathrynn! You could have died out there! Did that ever occur to you?"

I smiled grimly and handed the sponge back to her. "Actually it did. Unfortunately, the 'give a shit' factor of that thought was rather low at the time. The only thing I was focusing on was vengeance being served up on the edge of my blades. None of you would have been able to understand that. Hells, it's our own good friend Casavir who says that true justice can not be served by the tip of a sword. He's wrong about that." My voice lowered to quiet adamancy. "Sometimes that's the only justice."

She sighed deeply and shifted to wash my back. "Just remember. If you die… We all die too. Without you, this King guy is going to run rampant and we aren't going to be able to stop him. Think about that next time you feel the need to run off on a suicide mission."

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feeling of the filth and ichor being cleansed from my skin. "Don't worry about that. I don't have any other homes to be attacked, no family to be slaughtered."

The scrubbing stopped. "You have family. You have us."

My faint smile was a little less grim this time. "I suppose I do."

*****

Sitting on the bed wrapped in a large towel, I watched as Shandra wrapped clean bandages around the broken stitches at my wrist. "Why didn't you have Casavir heal these?"

"I asked him to. He said he wouldn't. It's probably his way of getting back at me for going alone."

Shandra sniffed. "If you think that, you obviously don't know him very well."

"What do you mean?"

"If he's purposefully not healing you, it's not to make you suffer. That's more Bishop's cup of tea than his. You've heard him, he thinks you need time to grieve and recover from your loss. Time you won't take. Tell me, if you weren't injured, what would you be doing?"

I shrugged. "Planning the next step. Finding out who activated the fifth ritual and hunting them down."

"See? Exactly my point. You being injured will force you to slow down and reconcile yourself to what happened, maybe heal some of the wounds in your heart."

I chuckled mirthlessly. "Once scarred, nothing heals completely. You carry the marks with you where ever you go."

"Maybe if you stop ripping off the scabs, the scars won't be as bad as you think."

"Since when does a girl from a farm become a philosopher?"

"Since a girl from the swamps became a Knight-Captain."

*****

There were no dreams that night. No ghostly faces, no decaying fingers to haunt my slumber. When I awoke, I waited for the shroud of numbness to cover me, and it came as expected. This time though, it was less tangible than the day before. No matter what the others believed, I had been mourning this whole time. It just wasn't in a way they could understand.

I flipped the furs of my bed off of me and got up, the stone floor cold against my bare feet. Digging a tunic out of my trunk I slipped it on, noticing disinterestedly that it was much looser than when I wore it last, just a few weeks ago. Searching for some pants, I found a pair at the bottom of the pile. Hopefully they wouldn't dig into the cut to badly, at least until I could convince Casavir or the gith to heal me.

Of my armor, the only things still serviceable were the boots. The jerkin was long gone and the pants had too many cuts to be salvaged. On the boots went and I was ready to go. I opened my door just to come face to face with Neeshka, her hand raised to knock.

"Oh hi! Wow, you don't look half dead."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who said I was half dead?"

"The soldiers that were in the yard. They said you were all bloody and could barely walk. Oh… oh gods… I'm sorry. Your home…"

She trailed off and looked at me helplessly. "It's alright. It's been taken care of."

She grinned, her bubbly personality hard to be subdued for very long. "I bet. I mean, you and Bishop? Whoever did that certainly won't be doing it ever again. Wow, that must have been something to see. He doesn't have a mark on him, and you're not in to bad of shape either."

I held up a hand to stop her cheerfully bloodthirsty talk. "Sorry Neesh, I don't really want to talk about that right now. Did you need something?"

"Crap, I almost forgot. Casavir wanted me to tell you that the knight of the shinning hair is here to see you. He wanted to wake you up right when he got here, but Cas wouldn't let him. I couldn't believe it when he actually stood up to Nevalle."

"Where are they at now?"

She shrugged. "I think your office, but I'm not sure. I was just coming to see if you were awake yet. Nevalle is getting impatient and I actually think Cas is ready to physically restrain him if necessary."

"Then perhaps I should go down."

She looked at me, then realized she was standing in the door way. "Oops, sorry!" She stepped aside and let me pass.

I made my way toward the office Kana had designated for me. At the door I heard two low voices within. I stepped inside and the voices stopped abruptly. "I heard you wanted to see me Nevalle."

Both men stood. Casavir bowed slightly and left the room, leaving us alone. Sir Nevalle gestured for me to take a seat. How gracious of him… Considering he's sitting behind my desk.

"Casavir told me what happened in West Harbor. You have my condolences."

I stared at him coolly. "That's why you rode hell for leather to get here? To offer condolences?"

A slight blush tinged his chiseled cheekbones. "I must admit when I heard you went missing in the middle of the night and didn't return with your companions, I was under the assumption you decided to leave. I came to salvage the situation."

"Really. Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I needed to take care of something? You just assumed that even after Ember, when my home was destroyed that I would cut and run?"

His lips tightened in displeasure. "In all fairness, no one was saying anything upon their return. West Harbor was never even mentioned in the dispatch. We had no way to know what had happened. All we were aware of was that you went on a mission and didn't return."

I snorted contemptuously. "You had no idea about West Harbor? An entire village gets wiped out and you don't know? I'm sorry, but I find that hard to swallow."

"I'm only telling you the truth."

"Then your information network sucks."

He took a deep breath. I could tell he was trying hard not to lose his temper with me. In a voice notably calmer than what his eyes were showing he asked, "Since you are back and from reports, returned wounded, am I to understand you found the ones who did this?"

"How am I to know what you understand?" I shrugged. "Your leaps of logic are beyond me. But yes, I found them."

"Who did it?"

"Am I to understand you didn't open the pouch Kana gave you?"

His glare was hard. "I've not had the time."

"Open it."

His eyes never leaving my face, he dug out the small pouch and cautiously opened it. Spilling the contents into the palm of his hand he finally glanced down. Seven bands of silver all bearing the same motif of a ring of daggers rested in his hand. Surprised, he looked from the bands to me.

I mimicked the haughty tone I've heard him use more than once before. "What? Perhaps you were expecting some sort of body part?" I made a little moue of distaste. "How uncouth. A true knight of Neverwinter would never be so barbaric as to display the head of his enemy like a trophy."

The bloom of color at his cheeks burned red. The way he watched me, I knew he realized I was making a jab to the last part of the punishment he had warned me about. I smiled to myself, rather pleased. Subtlety had never been my strong suit, yet in the case it seemed to be just what was required. He fought for control, his eyes the only thing showing the torrent of emotions that he had to be feeling.

When he spoke next, his tone, while still clipped with annoyance, sounded a little reluctantly impressed. "The Circle of Blades." He looked at me carefully. "You single handedly brought down seven of Luskan's elite assassins?"

"No. Not single handedly. Bishop helped."

"Bishop. The Luskan ranger who travels with you, yes?"

I nodded, watching as he played with one of the rings. "Of all the loyal people at your side, why him? You command much respect from your men, any would have assisted you. Why take the ranger with you? We know something of his past, much more than what he's probably told you." He casually set down the ring he was playing with. "He's not one you should trust."

Why I took Bishop over the others? That's something I really wasn't going to get in to with him. As for Nevalle's warning about the ranger, that was something I could answer. Leaning forward I picked up ring sitting at the edge of the desk and held it up to the light, examining the way the morning sun played off all the sharp edges. "Sometimes it takes a wolf to catch a wolf." I dropped the ring back in Nevalle's hand. "And sometimes, the wolf has reasons to go against his old pack mates."

Having said enough, I rose from the chair and headed to the door. Nevalle's curious question stopped me before I could leave. "Why did you give these to me?" he asked, gazing thoughtfully at the little bits of silver.

My smile was pure ice. "You once called me a cowardly and honorless thief. I felt you needed to see that thief though I may be, cowardly and honorless is not who I am. One way or another, I take care of my own, Nevalle." I paused, letting my voice get softer and my eyes get harder. "Always."