When Maevus once again dredged her way to consciousness, she didn't feel like she'd been dancing with Faldana, the mistress of death. She didn't feel so exhausted that even breathing was hard.

What she did feel was embarrassment. Even the foggy memory of how she'd fallen apart in front of Vraylor made the blood rush into her cheeks. She flipped the blankets up over her face and let out a groan of mortification.

Her eyes felt gritty and puffy from crying, but what smarted more than anything was her pride. Her pride and her common sense.

After all, she barely even knew Voron. Sure, she'd felt a certain kinship with him after learning of their similar history with the revolutionaries who had destroyed Iressa. And there had been more than a little responsibility that weighed heavy on her shoulders after she'd seen Voron's lacerated back.

But still...all of that was hardly a reason to have fallen to pieces so badly.

Maevus groaned again, hiding her face behind her hands for good measure. She could just imagine the jokes Vraylor had in store.

"Because I was tired," she muttered to herself. "Being tired makes you stupid. Stupid enough to cry." She pulled a face, trying to make herself believe everything about last night had been the result of temporary, magic-exhaustion induced idiocy.

Maevus' face grew hotter as she remembered who else she'd managed to embarrass herself in front of last night. No doubt Volt would also manage to land a few jibes.

She hated him. And Vraylor.

Self-pitying as she might be, she couldn't stay under the blankets like that for long. Her warm breath was trapped by the covers, making her feel smothered. Throwing the quilt back, she was relieved to find herself still in the clothes from yesterday. The only thing that had been removed were her boots. 

Her muscles still ached with weariness and she was so hungry it felt like her stomach was rubbing a blister on her backbone. Maevus sat up with a groan, rubbing at her eyes. After having eaten and slept last night, she didn't feel so painfully weak, but her magic was still pretty much out of commission. 

Out of instinct, she sent a pulse of feeling down each of the eight threads. A cacophony of response flew back to her, each dragon's "voice" flowing and colliding over each other as they clamored to know why she had been so silent, then so distressed.

They didn't communicate with words. Rather, the language of dragons was one of emotion. Of images, smells, sounds. Maevus closed her eyes, sending dashes of information down the links. Images flickered in her mind: waking to realize she'd driven herself to unconsciousness, her conversation with Vraylor, then her conversation with Voron. She showed them the return of her sword, which pleased them, and the lash marks on Voron's back, which did not.

When their curiosity had been satisfied, each dragon gave Maevus what she called a heart hug. Each thread pulled tight around her heart for a brief moment, a feeling of love and the desire to protect flowing through her.

Maevus did her best to return the feeling, but she had learned long ago that dragons felt on a different level than humans. To say it was deeper, or simply more wasn't quite right. Richer, had been the description Maevus had settled on long ago, though that had never been quite right either.

The threads loosened around her heart and Maevus sat up, swinging her feet to the ground. She stretched her arms over her head, flexing her spine, movement working the stiffness out of her sore muscles. 

She untangled the braid Korie had done for her last night, instead tying her hair into a heavy ponytail. After a little persuading, Maevus managed to push herself to her feet. 

Her stomach grumbled, but there was no way she was going to be able to eat without seeing Voron first. More selfishly, seeing him would give her an excuse not to think about what had happened with Volt, or with the master.

Maybe she'd just leave the country.

Using the edge of the narrow desk as support, Maevus crossed the room to where her boots had been left beside the dresser. The next test was bending over to pick them up. Maevus considered it a victory that her head only spun a little.

Her breath already a bit labored, she stumbled back to the bed and began the pain-staking task of lacing her boots. When they were on, she sat back, thirsty and already tired.

Maybe after she saw Voron, she'd just crawl back here and sleep for another week. Maybe by then, Volt would be gone somewhere and Vraylor would forget all about her little weepy episode.

Angry at herself, Maevus channeled the feeling into energy, pushing to her feet. The trek up the stairs this time was easier than last night, but not by much. Sweat was beading on her forehead and slicking her back by the time she made it to the top floor. Her breath was coming hard when she reached Voron's door. 

Or what she really hoped was Voron's door.

Swallowing against her dry throat, she smoothed a few escaped tendrils of hair behind her ears and opened the door, knocking softly as she did. A clean, antiseptic smell filled the room. Late morning sunlight cast everything in a golden glow.

Voron was still asleep, his back plastered in strips of clean linen, the blankets only covering him to the waist. Maevus took a tentative step into the room, relieved by the steady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. He looked better, from what she could see. His face didn't look so pale, and there wasn't a hectic fever spot on his cheek.

The fall of his hair over his forehead and the way his eyelashes brushed his cheekbones made him look younger than he did when he was awake. Maevus wondered if she looked the same when she was asleep.

A sigh startled her, making her whirl. She had been so focused on Voron, she hadn't noticed anyone else in the room. The blood rushed to her cheeks when she found Volt sitting in the armchair, one leg crossed over the other with a pad of paper balanced on one knee.

He tilted his head in what Maevus thought might have been annoyance, his lips turned down in a slight frown. A charcoal pencil twirled between his long, elegant fingers.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted, then turned to make sure she hadn't woken Voron. His eyelashes quivered a bit, but all he did was burrow into the pillow.

Volt tilted his head more, the annoyance now prominent. "Why are you in here?" he retorted, the pencil still spinning through his fingers.

Maevus opened her mouth, then closed it, wanting to avoid anymore statements involving the words "your Imp". Then she scowled. Why did she care what Volt thought? The short answer was that she didn't.

"He's my friend," she said, gesturing to Voron. "I wanted to check on him."

Volt didn't respond. Another sigh lifted his chest and Maevus could feel his gaze sweeping over her though his eyes were hidden by his ever-present hood. The urge to ask why he wore that infernal thing bubbled on her tongue again, but she had already embarrassed herself enough where this man was concerned.

When he continued to hold his silence, Maevus rolled her eyes and turned to Voron. She drew closer to the bed, hand hovering over the dressing on his back. A self-punishing desire to see the damage that had been wrought overcame her. Were the wounds as bad as she remembered them?

There was a soft flutter of paper, then warm fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Don't." 

She twisted her hand, slipping easily out of Volt's grip. Before she got the chance to snap at him, he turned back to the armchair. "Naghi and Savrin were up all night pulling the infection out of him. The last thing he needs is you re-infecting those lash marks." 

Maevus realized that almost nothing annoyed her more than when he was right. She dropped her hand and blew out a sigh, turning to face him. He bent to pick up his notebook, flicking it shut before Maevus could make out more than a few graceful lines on the page.

"You never answered me about why you're in here."

"Merik asked me," he muttered, settling back into the chair, one long leg crossing over the other.

She stared at him blankly for a moment before it clicked. "You mean Vraylor?"

Volt just rested his cheek on his fist.

"Vraylor asked you to watch Voron?"

The Storm-Charmed Encant made a vague gesture with his hand, encompassing the room and his presence in it. Obviously.

"Why?"

A hint of a smirk lifted the corner of Volt's mouth, but a low groan ripped Maevus' attention away from him. She turned on her heel to find Voron's eyes open and watching her. Still hazy with sleep, he began to push himself up. Maevus scurried forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Just lay still," she murmured, crouching down beside the bed so he didn't have to crane his neck.

"Mmph," Voron huffed, blinking hard. "I would argue, but I don't want to get up." Maevus managed a weak smile. He blinked a few more times, a frown growing on his face. Then he groaned. "Well, that's unfortunate."

Her brows pulled together in confusion. "What is?"

"I'd hoped it was a dream, what with me collapsing in front of a guild full of Encants who probably hate my guts."

"We don't hate your guts," she said immediately, knowing that was a lie.

The quiet snort from Volt behind her and Voron's droll look told her they knew how much of a lie it was. She sighed, doing her best to pull up another smile for him. "I don't hate your guts, at any rate." She hesitated, biting her lip. "And...I really appreciate what you did. I didn't... I didn't mean for—"

Voron smiled, the expression a little bitter as he closed his eyes. "No one ever means for stuff like this to happen, Maevus."

Her heart sank in spite of herself.

"It's not her fault your queen is mad as a hatter." Volt's quiet words surprised her. 

Voron opened his eyes, the amber iris turned to pure gold by the sun. He stared past Maevus at the other Encant. "No," he finally said. "No, I suppose that isn't her fault." 

She didn't miss the subtle inflection on "that". Maevus stood, her head down, unable to meet Voron's gaze. When he made to sit up again, she didn't try to stop him this time. By now, she was wishing she'd gone down to eat something first instead of coming here.

Voron continued to watch her, waiting. Maevus shifted from foot to foot, desperately trying to think of something—anything—to say. 

A light tap on the door saved her from having to break the awkward silence and she turned with a badly suppressed sigh of relief.

"Volt?" Letya's voice was uncharacteristically timid as she peeked into the room. "Master Vraylor's looking for you. He..." She blinked once at Maevus, her sunstone eyes brightening for a moment before she seemed to catch herself. "He needs to see you about a new job. I can stay with the... um, with him."

Volt rose gracefully to his feet, notepad tucked under his arm. He made to slide past Letya, who scooted out of his way. Maevus looked after him longingly, not wanting to have the conversation with Voron that had to be coming.

"He wants to see you too, Maevus." Letya pulled a face. "I told him you weren't even back on your feet yet, but he insists."

Volt froze in the doorway, head tilted in dismay.

Maevus looked first at Letya, then at Voron. Awkward as it was inevitably going to be to stay, she didn't really want to leave him just yet. "Can't Volt just let me know when he's done talking to him?"

Letya's mouth pinched into a frown. "He said he wants to see both of you." Her eyes darted back and forth between the two other Encants. "Together."

Now Volt's shoulders slumped. He stormed out the door, a strange, metallic smell floating in his wake. 

Maevus growled under her breath. "I'll come back later," she said, not sure if she was addressing Letya or Voron. She shot a curious glance at Letya, who just shrugged. She really didn't know what the master wanted with her or Volt.

Stomach sinking with dread, Maevus followed along after the Storm-Charmed Encant, his metallic scent all but choking her.