Ava seems to hold her breath as she slowly pulls her sock off, revealing an ankle triple the size and deep angry purple against her warm brown skin.
Chiyo flinches noticeably, and Isobel appears out of nowhere to look on. Her face crumples as Ava closes her eyes.
“Ava!” Chiyo exclaims. “You were just going to keep your mouth shut about this?”
“It’s broken,” Alys says. “And … more complex than that. Do you feel any burning or numbness above or below the injury?”
“Burning,” Ava says, looking more annoyed than anything by now.
“I’m going to have to reset the bone. It’s not going to be pleasant.”
“Just get it over with.”
Alys nods. She places her palm over the top of Ava’s foot, and the other above her ankle. Her hands glow with her healing powers, a warm blue, and Ava’s hand shoots out to grab something, anything. Chiyo catches Ava’s hand, and her face contorts as Ava squeezes.
It’s over an instant later, and Ava’s body relaxes.
Alys gives her an apologetic look. “Now, I’m going to heal as much of the internal damage as I can.”
“No!” Ava says.
Alys’s large chest expands before she releases a breath. “Listen?—”
“I just mean, don’t use up all your energy on me.”
A pained smile blooms on Alys’s round face. “It’s the least I can do,” she says. Her gentle gaze remains on her daughter.
“Bare minimum then,” Ava says at last. She manages a small smile before seeming to realize she’s still holding Chiyo’s hand. She quickly releases her grip as Chiyo’s cheeks redden.
She pats Ava’s shoulder and says, “I’ll fetch you some water.”
Ava nods while Alys finishes patching her up. Alys wraps her ankle firmly with bandages for continued support, and once we’ve all eaten something, we take two brief shifts napping, ensure that our horses seem ready, then we set off on our journey again.
Overnight, I try again and again to dreamwalk to Tiernan, but each time, I fail. As I curl up in blankets that faintly smell of him, I cannot stop the tears that fall.Please, Tiernan. Please be alive.
We’re underneath dense trees, pure darkness around us, but I sit up and pull the moonstone from my pocket. I run my finger over the smooth surface and close my eyes. It hums and warms against my skin. I close my eyes and focus on one particular person.
I envision her face—I reach out for steel and stone and defiance. Rather than conjuring a certain image, I try to envisionhersurroundings, and I’m surprised to be staring at a very familiar room.
Textured burnt sienna paint, dark blue and copper tiles, a hearth, and a large desk fill the space around me. This is the room that had been mine in Paramount almost four months ago.
I’m suddenly peering over a shoulder, watching a drawing materialize. That tree. The one from the dreams I shared with Winnie.
I speak her name, and she jumps to her feet, spinning to face me. Her caramel eyes widen, and as soon as her hands clench into fists, I unleash ribbons of shadows to bind her. I close my eyes and picture us elsewhere.
We rematerialize in the garden of the castle with flourishing roses and thick, thriving bushes. Winnie looks around, baffled, as I release the hold on my shadows. She points, and of all things, she says, “Flowers haven’t looked this good in ages.”
“Anything is possible in dreams, I suppose,” I say.
Her fingers brush lightly over the deep red petals of a rose. She’s suddenly calm, as if she’s simply given up being afraid. “Are you going to kill me?”
I startle. “What? Why would I kill you?”
She doesn’t lift her gaze from the rose, but she slowly walks along the bushes, her hands sliding over the leaves before she plucks a rose free. She winces, a thorn cutting into her hand. As she sticks her bleeding finger into her mouth, I smile wryly.
“I suppose I should create dream flowers without thorns.” I muster an awkward smile, but she drags her reluctant gaze to me and pulls her finger from her mouth with a grim look on her face.
“I know you saw me back in that pasture. When I captured your … whoever he is to you.”
