“Papa, can you really see me? Are you really healed?”
The most I’d hoped for was that my father would live and be free of pain. It had never occurred to me that the healer’s skills might also restore his lost eyesight.
“I see you,” he said. “I see everything. Where are the girls? Pharis, son, set me down please.”
Pharis’ brow creased in concern. “You’re not ready to walk yet, Wyll. Solfrid said—”
“I know what Solfrid said… rest, don’t push it, don’t try to do too much too soon.”
He pointed at the table. “Just set me in one of those chairs if you don’t mind, and I’ll try my best to obey that miracle worker’s instructions. But I don’t want my daughters to see me carried about like an infant.”
Obeying his request, Pharis took my father to the table and placed him in one of the straight-backed chairs. Papa’s back was straight as well, even more so than it had been after Sorcha applied her magical pain cure.
He looked almost like his pre-Rebellion self, vibrant and healthy and whole. He even looked younger.
I had a feelingthiscure wouldn’t be temporary. Hopefully it would come with fewer strings attached as well.
Tindra and Turi, who’d been brushing their teeth and washing their faces and hands in the basin in their room, ran into the living area. Their eyes bugged out when they saw the only father they’d ever known looking so well.
“Papa! Papa!” they both shouted, rushing to climb onto his lap.
He held them there with ease, one girl perched on each sturdy leg. His eyes filled with tears as he looked them over, and so did mine, observing the sweet scene.
It was the first time he’d seen Turi since she’d been a babe in arms, and he’d never seen Tindra looking this grown up.
She was four, Turi’s age, the last time he’d seen her. Now at eight, she was taller and much more mature looking.
“Oh girls,” he said. “You are just beautiful, both of you. Just like your mama.”
Though he and the girls’ mother Inge had both been married to other people before the battles, they’d of course seen each other around the village frequently.
“Papa, can you see us?” Tindra asked in a tone of awe.
“Are your eyes fixed?” Turi asked, leaning forward to get a look at them directly.
Like me, Papa had brown eyes with a hint of green. They were sparkling now with pure joy.
“They are fixed,” he said. “And so is my back. The healer said I should rest and shouldn’t travel right away, but I already feel like I’m twenty again.”
My hands went to my chest, crossing over each other as if trying to hold in the overflow of love and relief pouring from my heart.
Tearing my eyes away from my family, I looked for Pharis. He stood leaning his back against the wall with one foot propped against it and his arms folded over his chest.
He was smiling, watching my father with the children, and the sight shook my already unstable heart.
I stepped over to join him, speaking quietly. “You did this. It’s all because of you.” I had to take a moment to tamp down the burgeoning emotion before adding, “I can never thank you enough.”
He shook his head as if dismissing my gratitude. “You saved my life back in the meadow. We’re even now.”
“No. We’re not.”
I stepped closer and touched his arm, and Pharis acted like a shock went through his body. But he didn’t move away.
“You have protected and saved me again and again,” I said. “You’ve gone far above what anyone could reasonably expect of you—including your brother.”
His dark brows pulled together, and his smile faded.
“I didn’t do this for him. I did it for you.”
