Alaric’s massive form shadowed me all the way into the hall, hovering far too close. By the fates, what was going on here? He loomed like an anxious mother hen.
“Set her on the table.”
“Where I eat?”
“Thorne,”he warned, his voice like iron.
“Fine,” I huffed, setting her on the wooden surface. “Now what?”
As if in answer to my question, Myrna bustled in with two of her assistants, hot on her heels, arms overflowing with bandages and baskets of medical supplies. The girls looked like their elder—sharp-eyed and stern—but with darker hair and the same no-nonsense demeanor.
The elderly trogg climbed up on the bench beside the table to better reach her patient. “Poor child.” She clucked her tongue. “Girls, get this hideous dress off her so I may see her injuries.”
Scissors flashed, knives sliced, and layer after layer of filthy fabric hit the floor, until what must have been fifty stones of cloth rest in a heap. Finally free from the suffocating mess, the girl lay exposed. Unable to resist my burning curiosity, I leaned in, even as Alaric crowded closer behind Myrna’s shoulder.
The smell of blood, thick and metallic, hit me hard. It soaked through the girl’s ragged shift, pooling beneath her and dripping onto the stone floor. Three gaping wounds marred her stomach—angry, raw, and deep.
“These are too small to have been caused by your talons. Someone stabbed her.” Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who found her infuriating. I glanced over my shoulder at Alaric. “Where did you say you found her?”
“By the lake. The Puritans were attacked, their village under siege.”
“Puritans,” I grunted. “Magicless rodents. Good riddance.”
The girl’s chest rattled with shallow, wheezing breaths. Myrna worked quickly, stitching, applying poultices, mixing herbs, but the sound only grew weaker. Her assistants faltered, their frantic movements slowing until they froze altogether.
“Why have you stopped?”Alaric demanded, his voice thick with tension.
The elder turned on the bench to face him. She wrung her hands, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Master Alaric, but I’ve done everything I can think of to help. The girl is beyond saving.”
“No,”Alaric snarled.“Keep working. There must be something you can do.”
“I am sorry.” Myrna hopped to the floor, her assistants following. “I’ve done all I can.”
Alaric’s roar shook the rafters, the sound primal and thickwith defeat. Myrna’s girls fled in terror while the elder trogg held her ground, arms folded, unmoved by his theatrics.
“Bellow all you like. Changes nothing. Nothing short of a miracle will save her now.”
Alaric’s temper came as no surprise. His concern for someone other than himself, however... “Tell me what this is about. Why this desperation for a useless Puritan?”
Alaric’s green eyes rounded on me, burning with conviction.“Because she is the one. I can feel it in my bones.”
“The one to what?”
“To break my curse.”
I coughed a dry laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“She spoke to me at the lake.”
“So what? I speak to you all the time.”
“In Draconian.”
“Strange, but not unique. The trogg speak it as well.”
“And she bears the mark of Goddess Hathor. I spotted the brand on the back of her neck. See for yourself.”
Myrna sucked in a sharp sound of alarm, casting a wide-eyed glance back at the bleeding woman.
