The following moments for Feyla merged more into flashes of imagery than living events.

The pulse of her heart in her ears. I did it, I did it, I did it, ringing in her head. Dormaeus's face slumped against the cold ground, a line of panic still creasing his brow. Sedgewick jerking her away like the man was a snake. Daydrel finally returning with more healers and the two screaming at each other.

Somewhere far away, thunder crackled. Clouds had blocked out the stars but no rain came.

"Excellent work, lovey," Arilla's voice cracked through the cotton-covered world around her. "I knew your position would prove invaluable."

Sedgewick squeezed her close. Feyla's adrenaline-haze finally lifted enough that she could focus on Sedgewick's face. His expression was marble and anyone who didn't know him as she did wouldn't have noticed the fading light behind the glow of magic in his eyes. "This is mage business, Madam."

"It's not your business at all actually. I'm the guild leader here and a member of my guild caught Dormaeus." Arilla's lips pursed at the sight of Sedgewick holding Feyla protectively and Feyla could practically hear her admonition telling her to act decently and what would people think. Feyla didn't pull away. She'd caught one of the Carrow brothers before even Sedgewick could. The only thing people should be thinking was how she must be something more than they thought she was. Mother had to see that.

"Feyla's not in the healer's guild," Sedgewick said through clenched teeth.

Arilla raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Isn't she?"

All eyes landed on her. Feyla's heart beat faster than it had when she was running but the air in her lungs still felt in short supply. "It's just temporarily. I wasn't going to—"

"My daughter is finally back where she belongs," Arilla said proudly. "Now if you would release her, we have work to do and your services are not wanted, mage." Guardsmen began arriving and Daydrel pulled their leader aside, doubtlessly taking the opportunity to explain the healer's position while Sedgewick was occupied with her.

Feyla gripped Sedgewick's coat but he peeled himself away from her without hesitation. His hands came up and adjusted his hat smoothly. Sandrina and Mydel fell in behind him as the three finally talked to the guardsmen's captain. Sandrina's glare was no surprise but Mydel's sharp shot of anger and betrayal dug into her chest unexpectedly.

In the end, Feyla's admission won the healer's Dormaeus. Arilla worked her own personal brand of magic and convinced the captain to allow the healers to house Dormaeus for now until they had ensured the memory spell on him hadn't been tampered with. Feyla's hand had wrapped around her betrothal necklace even though she couldn't remember grabbing it. She watched mutely as more battle healers sedated Dormaeus and a guardsman clamped his wrists together with a pair of magic-absorbing essantium cuffs.

"Congratulations," Daydrel said, stepping beside her. "One down, one to go. You were great today." Daydrel's hand reached toward her waist for a familiar hold.

Feyla snatched his arm by the wrist. "What part of the words 'I'm betrothed' are you choosing to ignore?"

Daydrel's eyes shifted to the necklace she'd let go of. The orange stone, so similar to the color of Sedgewick's magic, must have seemed to glint mockingly in the lamplight. "Are you still sure about that?"

Feyla jerked away and spun around. Sedgewick had stopped debating with the captain and had begun departing through the gate. Feyla quickened her pace, ignoring the pats on the back and words of praise from the other healers she passed by. "Sedgewick!" she said finally, the name a choked cough. Her hand gripped the bar of the gate her fiancé had just strolled out of. Like she wasn't here. Like she'd just been another annoying random person he'd dealt with.

Sedgewick half turned. Sandrina tapped his shoulder and Feyla stifled a rare fighting urge. He brushed her off and Feyla let out a shuddering breath when he turned around and came toward her. "Sedgewick, I can explain, just let me—"

"We're not doing this here," he whispered sharply. "I'm not talking about my— About our..." Sedgewick's voice halted, the words strained with hidden, unspoken pain. "There are people and I can't..." Shaking his head violently, Sedgewick bolted whatever he was feeling back up. "Not here. Come by later. I have words about all of this."

Feyla swallowed but didn't stop him when he walked away from her again. Sedgewick usually struggled with words. Something told her the ones he'd found wouldn't be good.

"Is—is Feyla really working for the healers?" Mydel asked behind him.

Sedgewick clenched his staff within his hand until his already pale knuckles were bone-white. He said nothing.

"Don't be naive." Sandrina scolded him like an older sibling. "We all saw what we saw. I'm not surprised. Everbloom always struck me as a—"

Sedgewick whirled around. Sandrina was taller than him but he didn't need need to raise himself to her level for her to see the rage building inside him. "Don't you speak against Feyla again."

Sandrina stood quietly for a moment. "She manipulated you. She used all of us to aid the healers, do you still not see that? Don't you realize what she's doing to the Magic Ministry?"

The hair on Sedgewick's neck bristled defensively. "It's my ministry. Don't assume that I don't know what's at stake here."

"Then you should know bloody well what happens if we lose to the healers! Your job will be fine, gates, my job will even be fine, but you saw how much of our funding Daydrel wants! What happens when we have to let mages like Mydel go? How are we supposed to hold back black magic use without enough undermages?"

Mydel's brown cheeks paled. "I—I need this job, sir. We can't let them do this."

"I'm not going to let that happen," Sedgewick's voice softened ever-so-slightly to reassure the scared young man.

"You're not acting like it," Sandrina muttered.

Sedgewick snapped back to his second-in-command. Sandrina's thoughts were often closely aligned with his own. The fact that they weren't made him worry. Had he been wrong about Feyla? A vision of her standing in that white healer's garb on those stairs, wreathed in dark flames and leaving him brought a pressure to his eyes that felt dangerously close to tears. The shiver of that thought made the magic in his veins rise defensively. "Are you questioning my judgment?" he asked, pounding each word into the epitome of professional coolness.

"I'm saying that lately you've been thinking with a different part of your body and that is not what I expected from a man who's been praised as a mage above mages."

Sedgewick's hand went suddenly warm. It wasn't until Mydel took a step back that he realized he'd unconsciously ignited his staff. Sandrina swept forward in a single, smooth motion and grasped it right below the polished crystal gleaming in the light of his essence. "We're the protectors and nurturers over everything that is magic in the world. Our duty to that comes before everything. You are forgetting that, Master Alverdyne."

"I've forgotten nothing," Sedgewick sneered. "And I will not be lectured by someone who was not even alive when I earned my hat."

"But you'll allow a woman who never earned one to dictate the course of your life's work." Sandrina's lips thinned into a line. She shook her head and released the staff. "Mydel and I are going home. If you still value my advice as your second then you should spend the night thinking over what just happened. And who's actually on your side."

Sandrina touched Mydel's shoulder. He looked back at Sedgewick once before allowing the older woman to lead him away.

Sedgewick leaned against his staff and slowly drew the magic in it back into himself, drawing strength from the return of what had once been his life's one true constant. He hoped—he'd wanted—Feyla to be a better one.

Oh, because that worked out so well the last time you tried to do it. You just won't learn, will you? You idiot, some part of him sneered in his own voice. No. Feyla wasn't Bilara. She wasn't.

The fear that had slowly been creeping into his chest since That Healer had petitioned the council finally reached up into his throat and choked him. His heart palpitated inside his chest at an unhealthy rate and his hands shook as they clutched his staff. Tears cowering behind his eyes finally escaped and smudged his glasses.

Sedgewick jerked his sleeve roughly across his eyes. He flicked his glasses off and dried them against his shirt somewhat more gently. Then he did what he always did. Shoved the feelings back down until he could deal with them somewhere more private. Preferably with a very strong drink.

"I can explain..." That was what she'd said. But what explanation was there for such a betrayal?

******************

Author's Note: After struggling for most of the last couple weeks (and having my time devoured by my classes beginning...) I finally hit my stride the last couple of days and finished the chapter!

Sedge and Feyla's "chat" will have to wait because Sandrina decided to get a couple of things off of her chest last-minute, but such is the life of a writer. What did you think of Sedgewick's reaction? How will he handle Feyla's "explanation"? What's Feyla going to do now that she's caught Dormaeus? Let me know what you think in the comments!