She heard voices.

  Gradually, she recognized one belonging to her grandfather. He wasn’t shouting, so that was a good sign, but her head hurt, specifically the left side. She tried opening her eyes. Her right eye gave her a blurry view of a distant window. The left appeared blocked.

  Raising her hand, she brought it to her face and alighted on a pad of soft linen and gauze. It was the barest brush with her fingers but it brought intolerable pain and she passed out.

  ##

  She was in her room.

  The floor boards were warm beneath her bare feet while her elbows, resting on the window sill, were freezing cold. Outside, it was snowing and for a long while she remained there and watched it fall.

  An earlier examination in the mirror had revealed the extent of the damage to her face. Someone had stitched her up, had done a neat job of it, too. But a vertical scar now ran from the middle of her left cheek, up to her lower eyelid, then began again just north of where her left eye used to be. It cleaved through her left eyebrow, currently non-existent, because whoever had stitched her up, had shaved it clean off. The left side of her face was swollen and tender to the touch. She suspected she’d had a fever, too, which had left her light-headed and weak.

  Ten slow breaths, she counted them in and out before throwing a shawl over her shoulders and descending the three flights of stairs toward the kitchen. She could hear Marla’s voice, probably talking to Elspeth, and she used it as a beacon to guide each treacherous step. “I need… a hot poultice,” she began. The two women and her grandfather stared, open-mouthed. “Winter glory. And hethermint.”

  “Maiden’s fingers,” was all Robles managed before Kaddie collapsed.

  “She’s dehydrated,” Elspeth said. “I’ve brewed tea.”

  “And she’s not wearing anything on her feet,” Marla added. She and Robles helped Kaddie onto a nearby stool.

  “Back upstairs,” Robles announced.

  “No, I’ve slept enough.” She struggled to remain balanced on the stool. Elspeth pushed a cup of hot tea into her hands, and Kaddie was about to offer a number of reassurances regarding her current state of health when Torrell arrived through the back door, closely followed by a grumbling Bodworth.

  “You’re awake.” He broke into a grin.

  “Barely,” Robles said. “As soon as she’s finished that tea you’ll help me drag her back up the stairs where she belongs.”

  A short while later, in her attic room and back in bed, she braced herself for a thorough scolding. However, her grandfather remained oddly silent, with the exception of a sharp “Don’t be long, there’s work to do,” aimed at Torrell, who’d offered to sit with her for a while. A berating was coming, though, of that she was certain.

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  “Tell me everything,” she said when Robles had gone.

  Torrell scraped fingers through his hair. “We are in so much trouble.”

  Kaddie attempted to sit up with scant success. “What happened?” She struggled with her pillow until he leaned forward to give her a hand. He smelled of the outside, of wood fires and the cold.

  “I talked to Glen, this morning. He’s been down there after that thing in your pocket blew up half the tunnel and he says that particular path to the dungeon is now blocked.”

  She lay back with a grin, a gesture she immediately reversed as it made her face feel tight and uncomfortable. “You threw it like I told you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did it stop them?”

  “Kaddie—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame. What about my sickle?”

  “It’s in the top drawer of your dresser. Thankfully, Glen didn’t have to use it.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Robles, Marla, and Elspeth, they’re worried about repercussions.”

  “One of those men threatened to slit your throat.”

  “That was Arben Theed, and I don’t think he meant it.”

  Kaddie snorted, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her face had pulled tight again, and now her eye socket was twitching in a most alarming manner. “Oww.”

  “Enough,” he said. “You need to rest.”

  The left side of her face was beginning to throb and would probably have felt a whole lot worse if Elspeth hadn’t slipped a sedative into her tea. She needed to sleep this off. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.” She closed her eyes.

  ##

  She lost track of the hours—how long she slept, how long she remained awake, while her face itched so badly she wanted to dig her fingernails into the healing flesh.

  Periodically, she hobbled downstairs and insisted on making her own poultices of winter glory, Bilban Downs clay, and hethermint tea. The tea and the clay would curb the swelling, the winter glory serve as a strong antiseptic. Occasionally, she cast a glance in the mirror. Never particularly enamored with her looks, she considered she was now terribly ugly and it made her feel sad.

  One late afternoon, she awoke and heard voices outside. When she reached the window she saw Mr. Kanter teaching his martial arts class on the rooftop and she decided it was time.

  It took her a while to get dressed. Her clothes felt loose on her shoulders and around her waist, while her shoes felt like heavy weights strapped to her feet. She heard other sounds, specifically men’s voices from inside the house, and as she descended the stairs she determined they were coming from Robles’ study. One voice in particular quickened her heartbeat and increased her pace. Temper risen, she burst through the door.

  “Ah, Kaddie, there you are,” Robles said, in a manner that suggested he thought she should be anywhere but standing in his doorway.

  The other man was momentarily taken aback, but he covered it with a quick smile and a wink. “Well, she looks like her nickname, now.”

  “What is he doing here?” Her fists clenched, her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palms, and her eye socket began to throb.

  “Kaddie, may I present Arben Theed. As for why he’s here, he seems to think some kind of recompense is in order.”

  “To us, I assume?” She regarded the man whose silhouette she remembered from the tunnels, a relaxed but nonetheless authoritative figure alongside the reviled Mercantiler Harrow. She refused to be intimidated and glared at him.

  “To me, iron witch, to me.” Theed said. “For the pain caused to my men, not to mention the damage to the tunnel beneath the palace.”

  “Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t kidnapped—”

  “Kaddie,” snapped Robles.

  She jabbed a finger toward the other man. “He was going to slit Torrell’s throat.”

  “Was he, now?” Her grandfather regarded Theed, his eyebrow raised.

  Theed briefly inspected his fingernails. “I may have threatened such, but I would have been foolish to carry it out, and I am not a foolish man.”

  “A moment,” Robles said. He approached the fireplace and tugged on the servant’s bell cord.

  A short while later, Marla appeared, who gave Kaddie a look of surprise.

  “Have Torrell join us,” Robles said. “Immediately.”