14.10

"Why are her eyes red?" Portia demanded, scared.

"I don't know. It has something to do with Azriok's magic. I've never seen this before," Philip answered tersely, pulling up Zyrdicia's lids again. The blackness of her pupils stood in stark contrast to the brilliant scarlet of her irises. There was no trace of the usual violet. She groaned, but made no move to resist.

"She looks like a monster," Anthony whispered. Portia slapped him hard in the stomach with the back of her hand.

Philip glared, "She can probably hear you."

"We should take her home. This is the last place she needs to be in this state," Portia worried.

"She can't be moved. She's suffering from an overdose of magic. Using magic to move her would only make it worse."

"She's suffering from an overdose of getting her ass kicked. Look at her fucking ribs!" Anthony snapped. He moved across the room to a small burner set over a candle. "Speaking of overdose, are you sure she should take all of this?"

"YES!" Portia and Philip barked in unison.

"I don't need answers in stereo." Anthony rolled his eyes then thrust a sugar cube into the bubbling, black substance. He watched it absorb the entire quantity, then scooped the softened cube off with a spoon. He carried it carefully to his red-eyed mistress. Portia tilted Zyrdicia's head back for him. She sucked the drug-laden contents off the spoon without resisting. She wanted the opium.

When Zyrdicia had first materialized in her chambers in Castle Blackpool, Portia had been waiting for her. Portia had a hot bath already drawn. Portia had no idea how bad things would actually be.

The Hellcoil had impressed the enchanted metal fabric of the mail coat into Zyrdicia's skin. It had to be peeled away from her arms and torso link by link. The skin below bore a pattern of bruising identical to the metal links in some places. In other places, though, the links had actually broken the skin, and there was a pattern of bleeding laceration instead of bruising. Zyrdicia was bruised, bloody, bitten or burned from her feet up to her neck. Countless bones were broken. It was physically impossible for her to be alive. Yet here she was.

While Portia had patiently liberated her from the armor and bathed her to clean the wounds, Anthony had gone to fetch Philip. Physical wounds Portia could tend to, but the red eyes were a bigger problem. She had no idea what to do. After bathing her, she wrapped Zyrdicia in a soft blanket rather than dress her. Letting her lie down was out of the question. She would probably suffocate. Portia had settled her into the couch near the fire.

The fluid filling Zyrdicia's punctured lungs made her breathing labored and thick. She had no idea where she was at any given moment. Whatever Azriok had put in her was far worse than the opium. She was delirious, feverish and terrified.

"Blackpool will want to see her tonight. What are you going to tell him?" Anthony prodded Portia.

"Fuck if I know. Maybe I'll say she came back as a boy."

"Do you think it would really make a difference?"

"Probably not."

"You got that right."

Zyrdicia gave in to another fit of agonizing coughing. She moaned unhappily, shivering despite the fire's nearness.