His decision hurt him deeply. “Don’t heal Belen,” he said in a low voice. “It’s too risky.”

Wow. I hadn’t expected that. I thought for sure he’d choose Belen over Ryne. I drew my magic back inside me.

“Go,” Kerrick ordered. “I’ll stay with him until…” His voice broke.

I left quickly. Pain stabbed deep into my stomach, blood ran down, soaking my waistband. I made it to the small fire before I collapsed. My muscles felt as if they’d been shredded and I couldn’t breathe. Now I know why Tara never talked about the Realm wars, and when she healed the warriors near the border. It was an experience like no other.

The pain increased as acid leaked from my pierced stomach and burned my flesh. My magic fought to heal the damage, but it wasn’t fast enough. There would be no recovery from this one. I had no regrets. Belen deserved to live.

Shouts. Curses. A buzz of noise. Flea beside me. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear a word he said. The edges of my vision blurred. Black and white spots swirled, turning the world into a chaotic snowstorm. I reached out blindly, clasped a warm hand, faded from life and into peace.

Well, that was what was supposed to happen. Waking in the blissful afterlife, joining all my loved ones who had died before me. Except an annoying, distracting tug kept pulling and yanking. Pain lingered in that direction. Hurt and anger and harsh words waited on that side. I resisted, but damn it all to hell, I wasn’t strong enough.

When I woke, I thought I had overcome the pull and stayed in the afterlife. Whiteness billowed over me in soft waves. My body was cushioned and cocooned in warmth. I stretched my legs and then tried to raise my arms, but my left arm wouldn’t budge. Rolling over, I encountered a number of very unpleasant realities.

I was alive. I was in a room. I was naked except for a bloodstained bandage wrapped tight around my stomach. Kerrick lay beside me. And his hand trapped mine.

Kill. Me. Now.

The only saving grace—he was asleep. I glanced around, searching for my clothes. No luck. Figures. Hiding them was an excellent way to prevent me from running away.

I studied him, wondering if I would wake him if I tried to free my hand. Asleep, he looked four or five years younger—around twenty-five or twenty-six. The harsh lines were gone. His nose was a little too hawklike for my taste, but it worked well with his sharp chin. His eyebrows were on the thicker side, but at least they were smooth and not creased together, which they did every time he looked at me. Plus they matched his long eyelashes.

I remembered my little brother, Allyn, had appeared so innocent and angelic when he slept—similar to Kerrick. It must be a survival tactic. If Allyn hadn’t looked so sweet, we would have killed him while he slept. He had been pure evil when he was awake—similar to Kerrick.

Not pure evil, but close. At least as far as my brother was concerned. Kerrick, on the other hand—pure evil.

Thinking of my brother, I smiled. Allyn had a rare gift of talking his way out of trouble. I dearly hoped he had survived the plague along with Noelle and my mother. I wish I knew where they were. A wave of loneliness rolled through me. As I told Belen, I knew right where my older brother, Criss, and Father were—buried under a million pounds of rock. At least they died quick. Unlike the plague victims. Some of them took two weeks to succumb. Fourteen days of pain and the knowledge that their life would end.

Jerking my thoughts back to my present problems, I decided to extract my hand from Kerrick’s. He woke the instant I moved my fingers.

I froze, waiting for his anger. I had disobeyed his order. I almost died healing Belen.

He studied me and I wanted to pull the covers over my head. After all, someone had to remove my clothing. When he moved, I flinched, causing him to pause for a moment.

Why wasn’t he yelling at me? The anticipation was worse than his fury.

But he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. He didn’t have a shirt on or an ounce of fat—just lean, hard muscles. At least he wore pants.

Without saying a word, he left my room. I stared at the closed door in shock. I expected a lecture. I expected punishment for my actions.

Not one to let an opportunity pass me by, I slid out of bed and searched for my clothes or any piece of clothing. At this point I’d wear whatever I could find. Nothing. I wrapped the sheet around me and tested the window. The shutters had been latched, but they opened without trouble. My room was on the second floor, facing a forest. Perfect, I could climb down the drainpipe. In a sheet? I laughed. It could be worse.

Someone knocked on my door. I closed the shutters and dove into bed just as a woman with pure white hair bustled into my room.

“Glory be. Mr. Kerrick was right. So happy to see you awake. Oh, you had us all so worried, you did.” She carried a bundle in her arms. Dropping it on the bed she hustled over to the windows and flung open the shutters. “Get dressed and I’ll fetch you some vittles. You must be starved. A skinny little thing like you, going days without food.” She tsked, heading for the door.

“Days?” I squeaked. “How many?”

“Four or five. The boys brought you in.”

“Where am I?”

“In Mengels, dearie.” With a wave she disappeared as fast as she had arrived.

From the amount of time we’d spent traveling, I’d thought we’d gone farther than Mengels. Oh, well. Not my problem. I fingered the clothing the woman had left. A long dark green skirt with a thin pattern of tiny light yellow flowers, growing as if on a vine. A light yellow tunic, some undergarments and black wool leggings. With no other options, I dressed, hoping my own clothes would show up soon.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I stared at the strange woman on the other side of the glass. My hair had grown to my shoulders. The dark auburn roots a stark comparison to my dyed-blond strands. It stuck up on one side and was matted flat on the other. I combed my fingers through and realized my hair was clean. Who had washed it?

Curious, I lifted my tunic and pulled the bandage down, inspecting my stomach. Ugly reddish-purple circular scars peppered the skin along with burn marks from the acid. I remembered when Tara had shown me her scars, noting each one was a source of pride and not censure. Since I had been an apprentice, I only had one scar from when I healed Noelle. Now, I had the ones from Belen.

The woman returned with a tray. I hurried to cover myself. She exclaimed over my clothes. “Yours were ruined. That nasty boar tore it to shreds. The boys did a nice job picking out the right size for you. Your boots are below.” She set the tray down and pulled a chair over. “I’ll bring them up, but a nice girl like you should wear something more…feminine. I can send Melina out?”

“No. Thank you, Ms….”

“Call me Mom. Everyone does. When you stay at the Lamp Post Inn, I take care of you, just like your own mother.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m so glad you lived. Frankly, when Mr. Kerrick brought you in, I was about to call the undertaker. It’s a miracle you survived.” Mom shooed me into the chair.

At least she didn’t suspect I was a healer. My stomach grumbled as I smelled the food. The tray held a bowl of steaming soup and a hunk of bread and cheese.

“Don’t wolf it down or it’ll come up just as quick.” Mom hovered until I started eating. “I’ll be back in a bit. We’ll do something about your hair.”

I tucked a lock behind my ear. “What’s wrong…?” But she had left. Other questions came to mind, but I enjoyed the meal and the solitude. I’d been on my own for three years, and grown used to quiet. Now I’d been with Kerrick’s men for the past twenty-five days at least. Probably more.

Mom returned with my boots, two bottles, towels, scissors and a helper carrying a washbasin and large pitcher. Mom called the young girl Melina and she looked to be around Flea’s age. She filled the basin with water, and waited for orders.