A Court of Innocents

23: Snap Decision

"How's Tamlin?"

The Night Court's best healer, whose fingers were currently pressed against my inner wrist as she checked my pulse, looked up at me. Madja was wrinkled and knobby, but those dark eyes shined with intelligence. The Inner Circle trusted no one else to handle their worst injuries. It was overkill to bring her here when I was up and walking, but Rhysand had apparently persisted in asking for her skilled healing for the last week, and she finally had an opening in her schedule to make a house visit.

"Tamlin?" she asked with a frown, pretending like she had no idea what I was talking about.

"I know you can't tell me any of the details, but if you could give me a yes or no as to whether he's alright..."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't say either way. None of my recent patients had gone by that name. If this Tamlin of yours needed healing, he didn't receive it from me."

Now I was the one frowning. Azriel had claimed that Rhysand brought my mate to the Night Court's best healer, and there was no one better than Madja, and yet I knew she wasn't lying.

"Well, you could use a decent meal and some sun on your face, but you're otherwise healthy," the healer finally said.

I nodded, rising to my feet. I'd been sitting on this stiff couch in one of the back rooms for thirty minutes as Madja completed her examination, and I was itching to return to the veranda. I had questions for both men now lounging at the dining table, and I think I was finally ready to hear the answers.

Before I could head in that direction, though, Madja said, "You should know that I'm a terrible eavesdrop. I couldn't help but hear what the High Lord said to you."

I stared at her blankly, wondering which part she was referring to.

"About your mate. He's right, you know. Being near your mate has proven for most of my patients to be the best cure for seasonal bouts of depression."

I suddenly couldn't look her in the eyes. "Oh. Um. Right. That's... good to know." How soon into the exam had she figured out my emotional state? How long had she been waiting to give me that piece of advice?

I strode out of the room before she could say anything else to make me blush.

Rhysand and Azriel were, in fact, sitting at the table where I'd left them, but the food was gone. A decanter of red wine sat in the middle now, surrounded by three stemmed glasses. Rhysand's glass was filled halfway, but I entered the veranda just as Azriel tossed back the rest of his. The glass clinked against the table as he set it down. He spotted me—and froze. And then he reached for the decanter and poured more into his glass. And poured. And poured. He wordlessly returned to his drinking, swallowing it back with that reckless abandon I'd noticed earlier.

But that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the shadows around him. They seemed, if possible, to be even thicker than they'd been before, swirling around him wildly. Those shadows were always a reflection of his inner thoughts, and I knew they must be racing now, but over what, I couldn't imagine.

"What did Madja say?" asked Rhysand, pulling my attention away from the shadowsinger.

I took the third seat and reached for the only empty glass. "She thinks I need a tan."

Azriel generously filled my glass to the brim, pouring out what remained of the decanter.

I said to Rhysand, "I thought you brought Tamlin to see her."

He frowned and looked at Azriel. "Did you tell her that?"

"I was explaining what had happened, and then your perfect timing put a halt to it." His words slurred together, and I wondered how many glasses Azriel had tossed back before I'd joined them. He sprawled out lazily in the chair with all the finesse of a drunk man.