By the time I recover from the shock of it and look back to her, she’s passed out again. I shake her shoulder to try to rouse her, but I guess the fire used up what little remaining strength she had. She’s out cold.
I meet Corvin’s gaze over her prone form. He grimaces and tightens the bandage he’s tying around his midsection.
“Too bad she couldn’t stay awake to do that trick a few more times. We still have too many dying wolves here.”
“We’ve got more survivors than we would have if not for her. Did you see what she did?”
He nods and leans back against the side of the cart. “I did. I thought you were the only person alive who could do that. Do you think she’s another Suntouched?”
“Is that even possible?” Hugh strokes Sym’s fur, never taking his eyes off his partner. “We went generations without one before Cara was born. How could we have two alive in the same era?”
I don’t know how to answer that, but as I gaze at the pretty young woman lying before me, I wonder if she might indeed be another one touched by Solari’s hand. My mind reels with possibilities. Is this raven-haired beauty really like me? Am I really not as alone in this world as I thought? And if sheisa Suntouched Soul, what does that mean for my future rule?
Chapter 5
Cara
The rapid-fireclop clop clopof the horses’ hooves echoes in my ears as we race for the healers. Corvin’s skin has taken on a greyish tone, and though she had enough strength to heal Sym, the young woman we rescued barely breathes. I move to kneel at her head, my fingers running through her silky dark hair. Her wounds are grave, but if we can get her to the healers she might make it.
Sym, having woken and shifted back shortly after getting healed, sits in Hugh’s arms, staring at her in silent reverence. He occasionally looks from her to me and back again, and I wonder what’s going through his mind.
Everyone seems to be in a state of shock, though whether from the savagery of the attack or from the mysterious woman’s powers I don’t know. I know I have questions for her after she awakens, questions about her origins and about the panther attack, but those will have to wait until she’s better. No point in interrogating a traumatized woman while she’s trying to recover from such an ordeal.
Now that the immediate threat is dealt with, I take the time to look at her more closely. Her hair is darker than mine, sleek and soft, and even with all the blood loss, her lips are as red as fresh cherries. Her hair frames a narrow face, and she’s slender—almost too thin, as though she hasn’t eaten properly. My instinct is to remedy that, and I resolve to steal her some food from the palace kitchens the first chance I get. Her skin is soft, smooth, and almost milky white, and I suspect that even if she were not at risk of dying, she’d still be pale.
Hours pass as the cart rushes to the closest healing temple. I do my best to stabilize the woman’s fragile body on the bumpy ride, but she still ends up jostled and moved more than I’d like. Every little rock hit by a wheel, every ditch run over brings fresh blood oozing from her wounds.
Corvin does not fare much better. He grunts and groans at every turn, and I see a subtle shaking of his hand that he tries to hide when he catches me watching. He’s still upright, still sitting on his own, but I wonder how long that will last. How longhewill last. Dark red blood saturates his bandage, more crimson than white at this point. A part of me mourns his eventual death, though I don’t regret not giving him a chance. Besides, he may yet pull through; Corvin is nothing if not resilient.
When we reach the temple, the cart comes to a jerking stop. I leap to my feet and jump down, grabbing the woman and carrying her inside myself. The Solari priests gape at the sheer number of dead and wounded we bring, but they quickly recover and set to work.
One particular priestess, a middle-aged woman with streaks of silver in her flame-colored hair, takes charge of organizing who does what. She grabs my arm and guides me to the worst of the injured, instructing me on how to use my solar powers to heat water to boiling and cauterize wounds. I feel woefully neglectful in not learning any potential healing applications of my gifts, especially now that I know it’s possible for Solari to gift a person with the power to heal through the flames. I try to do so myself, testing a small wound on an injured wolf, but it appears my fire is designed for destruction, not reparation. The wolf yelps, and I stop before I hurt him more. No matter what I do, I can’t recreate the mysterious woman’s power.
Together with the priests and the rest of the survivors, we work tirelessly to save the wounded. A handful of priests step aside to pray over our dead, offering guidance for their souls to find their place in the Sun God’s realm. Through some miracle, we didn’t lose any more soldiers on the journey to the temple, but several are still in danger of joining the deceased.
Though the priests manage to stabilize her most grievous wounds, the woman we rescued doesn’t wake right away. I offer to sit at her side until she recovers, and to my surprise, Corvin takes the cot next to hers for his own. The priests have given him strict orders to rest and allow his injuries time to heal, and he’s being uncharacteristically compliant. No arguments, no assurances of his masculine resilience, just quiet obedience.
After some time has passed, Corvin breaks his silence with an uncomfortable question.
“What do you think the Elders will have to say about her?”
I take a moment to answer. I hadn’t thought about that, but it’s certainly a concern. Will the Elders interrogate her? Have her killed to protect my claim to the throne? Letherassume the throne in my stead? Whatwillthey say? I choose my words carefully.
“It’s hard to tell. They likely will have some questions for her about her origins. Valid questions for certain, but I do hope they allow her time to heal before they start barraging her with them.” I brush a few strands of hair from her brow and stroke her cheek. “She’s been through an ordeal, and she shouldn’t have to deal with scrutiny while still on the mend.”
Corvin’s gaze follows my hands, and an unreadable expression crosses his angular face. “Does it concern you that no one has been aware of another Suntouched in the area? It seems strangely convenient that she shows up almost on the eve of your ascension.”
He’s got a point, but he doesn’t have to state the obvious. “Of course it’s convenient—that also doesn’t necessarily mean there’s anything sinister about her appearance.”
“It doesn’t mean thereisn’tanything sinister, either.” He leans forward, grimacing with the movement. “No one has seen another Suntouched since the Third Age, save for you. I don’t like this. She is a threat to your power and your claim.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Does this man always assume the worst? “She is no more a threat than you are, Corvin. Don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions. Perhaps she’s been raised in an isolated environment; it would certainly explain why no rumors of her existence have surfaced. I’m sure the timing is pure coincidence. We’ll question her—gently—once she’s better, and we’ll find out the truth in time. Meanwhile, let’s allow her some room to heal.”
Corvin sits back with a frown, but I spare him no more words on the matter. This poor woman faced twenty panthers all on her own, and it would be cruel to accuse her of ill intentions when it’s likely she was just traveling through the woods at an inopportune moment.
Once Corvin falls asleep, Sym and Hugh come over to check on me. I managed to avoid injury in the fight, but I’m grateful for their concern all the same.
Sym eyes the woman with awe written in his features. Hugh clutches his hand like if he lets go, he’ll lose him forever. I pat their joined hands before turning back to the sleeping woman.
