“Fever?”
“Low-grade, most of the time. It’s higher when she has a bad spell.”
He nodded slowly, frowning. “And her appetite?”
“Poor. She eats, but not enough. She’s lost weight this past year.”
“Does she cough blood?”
Her heart stuttered. “No. Not… not yet. Is that… Should I be worried about that?”
“Not necessarily.” His eyes met hers, green and steady in the firelight. “It’s a sign of progression, but many with her symptoms never develop it. The medicine you obtained should help. But she needs rest. Real rest, not just sleep snatched between crises.”
The precision of his questions struck her. “You know about healing.”
Something flickered across his face too quickly for her to read. “I was trained. Before.”
Before exile, she filled in silently.Before whatever happened to bring you here.
“She’ll be all right,” he continued, and his voice had gentled again. “Tonight was hard on her, but she’s stronger than she looks. I can see it in the way she breathes. Her body is fighting.”
The reassurance shouldn’t have meant so much. It shouldn’t have loosened the tight knot of fear in her chest quite so effectively, but it did.
“How do you know?” she asked. “About illnesses like hers?”
He rose and moved to the fire, adding another log and avoiding her gaze. “I told you. I was trained.”
“As a healer?”
“Among other things.” He didn’t elaborate.
She wanted to press—wanted to understand how an exiled Vultor warrior had come to know so much about human illness—but exhaustion was pulling at her, her thoughts dissolving into the fog clouding her mind. She swayed where she sat, and he turned his head quickly.
“You need sleep.”
“I know.” She glanced at Dani. “But she…”
“I’ll watch her.” He crossed back to her and crouched at her level, his face serious. “If anything changes, I’ll wake you. But right now, you’re no good to her half-dead on your feet.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But the thought of closing her eyes, of letting go even for a moment, sent panic skittering through her.
“I don’t?—”
“Jessa.” His voice was low, rough and strangely tender. “I give you my word. No harm will come to her while you rest.”
She met his eyes and saw the truth there. Not just competence, but commitment. A promise made with the same gravity he’d shown when agreeing to help her find the vines.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
He nodded and rose, then bent to gather Dani carefully into his arms. The girl didn’t stir—lost too deeply in exhausted sleep to notice the movement.
“There’s a bed in the next room,” he said. “You’ll both be more comfortable there.”
She followed him through the archway into the sleeping chamber. It was smaller than the main room, but still larger than she’d expected, carved deep into the cliff, the walls smoothed to a gentle curve. The raised platform covered in furs was easily large enough for two.
He laid Dani down with a gentleness that made her chest ache. He arranged the furs around her small form, tucking them close, and then stepped back.
“Sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
