My vision swam. The adrenaline that had fueled my fight was draining away, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache. I stumbled toward Mia. She was out cold. I tried to lift her, my fingers clawing at her uniform, but my strength was gone.
I looked at my brother, who was barking orders at his knights to secure the area and handle the unconscious kidnappers.
"Wayne..." I croaked. "Mia. She's unconscious. She needs a doctor immediately."
He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes scanning the blood on my neck. "Fine. We are going to the Duke's mansion. It's closer than ours."
I nodded, reaching for Mia one last time, but Wayne gently pushed my hands aside. He lifted her into his arms with a tenderness he usually reserved for his sword. It was a good thing he did; if he hadn't, I would have had to beg, and a Regulus never begs.
I forced myself to stand, my legs wobbling like a newborn fawn's. I refused to be weak. But the world tilted, and before I could hit the stone floor, a pair of massive, iron-strong arms caught me. I looked up through blurred vision at the sharp, dangerous jawline of Theodore Crisis.
"Careful, Witch," he rasped. "I haven't finished my game with you yet. You aren't allowed to break."
"Would you stop calling me that?" I whispered, my voice thick. "The people of this nation will get the wrong idea if you keep repeating it."
Wayne stepped forward, his face a mask of fury. He was already holding Mia, but his eyes were locked on the Duke's hands on my waist.
"We should get moving," Wayne spat, his voice tight. "We have lives to protect. But if you touch her, Crisis, I'll kill you myself."
"You can try," Theodore replied, his grip tightening as he hoisted me up effortlessly.
We set off. Theodore carried me as if I weighed nothing, his chest a wall of solid muscle against my cheek. Behind us, Wayne followed with Mia. And further back, walking in the shadows of the horses, was Ishu. No one spoke to her. No one offered her a hand.
I tried to look at her over the Duke's broad shoulder—to see if she was alright—but Theodore reached up and pressed my face back against his chest, shielding me from the wind. For a moment, I let my eyes close. I let myself rest.
When we reached the House of Crisis, it looked like a tomb of black stone. It was plain, almost clinical, but perfectly maintained. It felt like a house that was still rising, hungry for power.
Theodore didn't take me to a guest room. He carried me straight to a massive chamber that smelled of leather, old ink, and expensive tobacco. His personal study.
"The doctor," I croaked, my fingers bunching the fabric of Theodore's collar. "Send him to Mia first. She took the blow meant for that girl."
Theodore looked down at me, his black eyes unreadable. "You're bleeding from the neck, Iris. Your maid can wait."
"No," I hissed, my golden eyes flashing even through the exhaustion. "Mia first. That is an order."
Theodore stared at me for a long beat, looking at me as if I were a fascinating sort of fool. I didn't care what he thought.
"As you wish, My Lady," he finally said.
He signaled a servant to lead the doctor to Mia's room. Then, he sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a bowl of warm water and a silk cloth. I felt a pang of regret. Why did I have to break down in front of him of all people?
"Since the doctor is busy," he whispered, leaning so close I could feel his breath on the cut on my neck, "I suppose I'll have to tend to the Witch myself."