After the incident in the weaving workshop, Rina found herself even more isolated. Word had spread, and while the magisters and acolytes looked at her with what appeared to be awe, others avoided her gaze.

She was unable to attend the gathering held in the hall that evening. The reason for the pain had been a bone splinter, large and sharp and strong as a nail, which punctured straight through the sole of her right shoe. Anya, one of the most skilled medics, had removed the shard and tended the wound from the medic training rooms, but despite this, trying to do anything more than hobble to the common room was out of the question for a time. 

Unfortunately, this extra time caused her mind to turn to thoughts of Fin—or, more accurately, about how little she actually did think of him compared to how much she should.

A little over a week ago, she'd been on the verge of having a child to a man she barely knew—a Euran at that. Euran's did not want half-blood children. Fin might enjoy her company—and her body, clearly—but this didn't mean he wanted her to have his child. And she sure as hell wasn't ready to be a mother. Even if he'd said he loved her and she'd said so in return. Gods, her heart had been about to explode with the passion and exhilaration of that night. Her hand strayed to the Carnelian crystal Fin had given her, warm and reassuring. Now, it seemed nothing more than a pleasant recollection. He was like a perfect dream. After all that, her heart should—what should her heart be doing? She wasn't sure. More than it was, was all she knew. Perhaps his crystal was what kept her calm. Again and again, she assured herself this was the case.

So she found herself alone, reclining on a chaise lounge, as she read a history of Mai before The Devastation to distract herself while everyone else had fun. The current chapter focused upon Mai's aunt, Elia. The youngest child, and only daughter, of Mai's grandfather, King Samium, Elia had been an unanticipated child, born years after Samium married a second, much-younger wife. Elia had been only three years older than Mai. She had also been his greatest enemy. When Elia realised he would rule, she had taken decisive action.

"Rina!"

Turning, Rina saw Martha hurrying through the room in a high-waisted and flowing dress, the material swishing across the marble floor. She was enveloped in a lavender-scented embrace when Martha sat and wrapped her arms about her.

"I'm so glad you came," Rina said, resting her head against her friend's shoulder.

"How couldn't I? Soon as I heard, I did."

Rina pulled back. "But, I thought everyone knew."

A rueful smile crept up Martha's face. "If the Magisterium doesn't want something known, it generally stays that way. I learned when they were ready."

Rina furrowed her brows. "Why would they keep secrets from us?"

Martha settled back on her heels and took Rina's hand in her own. "Don't be so trusting. How many times have I told you this?"

Rina's lashes lowered, and she shrunk a little, once again the younger of two girls, looking up to and agreeing with all her friend said.

"You should know this better than anyone."

Swallowing, Rina averted her eyes. Martha's hands, once dry from constant washing, had softened, the skin now supple and plump.

"Enough of this." Martha clapped. 'Let me look at this injury of yours."

She walked over to a sink built into the wall and turned on the faucet, briskly scrubbing her hands and drying them on a cotton towel.

Perched on the chair, Martha motioned for her to lift the bandaged foot into her lap with a flapping motion. "Come on."

While Martha carefully unwound the linen bandage, Rina bit her lip and said, "So, what did they say?"

Frowning, with her eyes set on her task, Martha spoke with clinical frankness. "They said you wove a whole tapestry in minutes. That you—" She paused a moment. "That what you did was impossible. Not only was it more intricate than the most gifted master weaver could match, but the colours were all wrong—that they didn't match the thread because you somehow changed them." Martha's nose wrinkled. "Looks painful." She prodded about the puncture, and Rina winced.

"Some of the others—" Rina immediately suspected Martha referred to Mehdi and his companions—"they think you played some sort of trick to get attention."

Rina pushed up from the seat, fuming."I wouldn't do that!"

Martha's hands stilled, and she held Rina's stare. "Is it true, then?" Her voice became an awed whisper." Did you really weave the mountain of bones of the souls Arkis killed when he created The Devastation? Did you come back with one in your foot?"

Come back? She'd never gone there. It had just been a dream.

She wriggled in the chair and tried to pull back her foot, but Martha held on and resumed her ministrations.

"Don't be stupid! The bone must have been sticking up on the ground, and I stepped on it." The reason sounded weak and unconvincing. How could she explain what happened? What had happened? The memory of those blue eyes burning into hers caused a cool wave to pass through her body. She'd seen them before, back home in Amadore—in her dreams. So, when they arrived, it made sense after seeing Mai, her dreams would turn to him. That didn't account for the tapestry.

"Ouch!" She flinched as Martha prodded at her heel again.

"The lesion is healthy and stitching together nicely. Who treated you?"

"Anya." The words came out reluctantly. For years the aloofness of magisters and acolytes had been typical, now her tolerance dwindled.

"Ah, that explains it—she's been teaching me."

An acolyte, rather than a magister, instructing struck Rina as odd—Anya must be unusually talented. She opened her mouth to ask more but was stopped by Martha, who made a shushing noise and placed her palm on Rina's heel, closing her eyes. A faint yellow light surrounded Martha's hand, and warmth flowed into Rina. The skin around the wound started to itch.

"Stay still."

Teeth gritted, Rina did her best, but her heel itched like she stood on a nest of fire ants.

Martha's spare hand gripped her calf and held tight, fingers and nails digging into flesh and muscle. It hurt. Enough to take some of her attention away from the burning sensation beneath Martha's palm. Only for a moment.

Instinctively, Rina's mind travelled inward, down her neck and her spine, down her leg to the spot where Martha's Carnelian Way entered her in a hot light. Like an otter into a pond, she slithered into the radiance, imagining she coursed through it, as she captured and caught hold of the thin tendrils of Martha's energy, weaving them together to heal the flesh. In her mind, she could almost hear the tiny little click-click-clicks, as of knitting needles, now working within a green glow.

And then, she was back in the room, blinking, wondering if she imagined everything.

Martha was too. She withdrew her hand. "There, that was much faster than I expected."

Moving her neck from side to side, Marth pursed her lips and moved her arms. "Hmm, I thought I'd be tired after that—I usually feel like I've been lifting crates of supplies." She shrugged. "Perhaps I will later." She indicated the injured foot.

Grabbing it, Rina turned the heel to face her. She frowned. The skin was smooth. She jabbed at the flawless pink flesh with a forefinger. No throb or ache or sting. For a moment, the room spun, and her chest tingled. No. No, she had not done that. Martha had. It had all been Martha. Her eyes flicked to her friend who looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something.

"How—how'd you do that?"

A twinkle flickered across Martha's eyes, and the tension released in her body. "They've been helping me learn how to reduce pain and kickstart the healing process—using the Carnelian Way."

"Martha," Rina sat up higher on the chair. "You need to stop underselling yourself."

"What are you on about." Martha brushed her hair from her face. "I thought that was impressive enough. At least, that's what I've been told. Imagine if we could perform operations without the dangers of poppy milk."

"It is impressive, but fixing the whole thing is much more impressive."

Her friend froze, enormous brown eyes wider than ever. "What are you talking about?"

"You healed it, see." Rina stuck out her foot, aiming it up at Martha's line of sight.

Martha seized Rina's foot again, squinting and leaning back so she could examine the heel properly. "Shit."

"What?"

Shaking her head, Martha said. "I didn't do that."

"Yes, you did. I felt it. I saw it."

Still shaking her head, Martha stood. "What did you see, Rina?"

A chill slid through Rina. Her friend backed further away as if she were contagious or something to be feared.

"You slipped away somewhere else, Rina. I know you. Tell me."

Rina shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest. "I—I saw your Carnelian Way. Felt it's warmth. I felt you heal me."

"No, Rina. You didn't. You can't see the Carnelian Way, and I can't do such things. Only Mai or the most skilful magister can do what you speak of."

Rina stood without pain. "Martha, stop it. I'm not a healer—I couldn't do that. You, you're the best. We should tell them."

The sound of voices drifted from beyond the door.

Hissing, Martha hurried back to Rina, kneeled on the floor, and took her shoulders. "Shh! Stop." She shoved Rina back on the lounge and set herself to strapping up the foot again.

"Don't say a thing about this, and...pretend to limp for another day or so—at least." Martha's face paled. "Promise me."

"Why? Surely they'll be—"

"Promise me."

Rina pressed her lips together and nodded.

The door opened, and Anat and Sara burst into the room. Anat's face was flushed, her cheeks pink like she'd been dancing.

A broad smile on her face, Sara walked over and hugged Martha. "How's the patient? We felt bad leaving her alone."

Martha returned it with a wan smile. "She's just fine. After Anya's care, I think she will be back and walking before we know it." Putting her back to their guests, Martha directed a glare at Rina. One that said, Don't you dare do otherwise.

★☾●☽★

A/N: Hi everyone, thank you again for reading. This is part 1/2 in a filler chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know if anything is vague or if you have any suggestions. 

My offline draft is about 2/3 to 3/4 finished, which is very exciting! There is light, and lots of editing, at the end of the tunnel.

You'll find plenty of actions and revelations after next week. Hope you hang in for this. And consider making me happy by hitting that star!

Jas oxox