His hand reached out to the surrounding crowd, but no one moved, some covering their mouth with their cloaks and backing further away.
The man shuffled forward another step before collapsing onto the stone road, choking on his own breath as blood-tinged foam trickled out the edges of his mouth.
Astraia watched, frozen, realization hitting her.
The Plague.
Her hands flexed against her manacles, her instinct to heal overtaking common sense.
“He’s infected,” she breathed.
Draven pulled her horse closer to his, scanning the crowd for any threats.
She eyed him sharply. “I’ve seen this before. I worked in the slums of Tenebris helping to treat it.”
“Not without your bonds, you didn’t,” he replied, turning their horses toward a side street.
Astraia jerked her shackled wrists upward. “Take them off. Let me help him.”
Draven laughed. “So you can flare and burn the town and me to ash? I think not.”
“If I flare, restrain me. But if I don’t help him, he will die.”
Draven stopped the horses, staring at her with a brow raised. “Why do you care? I can see the way your mind schemes of destroying anyone in your path. This man is a hindrance.”
“I care because I know what it is like to feel helpless in the dark.” Her voice was soft. “And as a healer, I cannot live with myself if I stand by and do nothing as he dies.”
“They will see you. They’ll know what you are. You’re willing to expose yourself?” His eyebrow quirked upward.
Loath as she was to admit it, the bounty hunter was right. She had been so cautious in Tenebris. Starborne were hated by most, scapegoats for the dismal state of the realm. Secrecy helped to keep her from hatred and harm. But a soft voice in her mind pushed her forward, tugging on her heart.
“Yes,” she replied.
He let out a long exhale, running his fingers through his tousled hair. “You get ten minutes,” he said, already dismounting from his horse. “One flare, and I swear—”
“You’ll cage me again. Understood.” She held out her wrists. “Now do it before he dies.”
His hands moved achingly slow, retrieving a key from around his neck, his brows furrowed. He was battling with himself, that much was apparent.
Astraia breathed deeply as he turned the key and the manacles slid off her wrists. It only took seconds before a distant warmth rushed back to her spine. A flicker of her bonds breathed to life inside her, her mind focused with clarity once more, a part of her soul restored.
Her bonds enveloped her like a cocoon, edging to her core and into her hands. It would be too easy to flare and force Draven to cower, but she bit down on her contempt and pulled on her tether, forcing the bonds to quiet.
Breathing deeply, she swung her leg over Orion’s saddle and hopped down onto the cobblestone.
Draven stood mere inches from her, staring down at her with suspicion. “Do not test me, Starborne.”
Astraia couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She could have sworn she heard him curse as she strode past him, straight for the infected man who was still convulsing on the ground.
Many onlookers had dispersed, eager to put distance between themselves and the Plagued. The spectators who remained whispered amongst themselves as Astraia approached, gasping as she knelt beside him.
She surveyed his wounds, noticing he likely had been infected for some time, given the extent of damage the boils had caused to his eyes and hands.
Steeling herself, she closed her eyes, diving into her Sacrifice bond, allowing it to rise to the surface of her mind. Making sure she held firm to her tether, she pushed the bond beyond her spine, into her fingertips.
Astraia did not have to open her eyes to see the bright blue light illuminated her hands, the crowd gasping and someone whispering, “Starborne.”
