The glow dies from my hands as a frantic woman bolts into the clearing, her long skirt swishing through fallen leaves. In a blink, she’s kneeling beside me, clutching the boy’s hand, tears streaming down her lined face. “I told you not to wander off alone,” she cries, cheeks gleaming with tears.
A loud thud. I follow the sound—the bear lies dead. Zevayr is unharmed. I want to sag with relief, but I can’t, not when there’s a boy dying in my lap.
“Help me bring him back to my cottage,” the woman pleads. The utter anguish in her voice pierces my heart.
“Wait,” I say, placing a hand on her arm before she can rise. “He’ll lose too much blood.”
“Mayah.” Zevayr’s voice is a warning.
But the boy’s skin is too pale, his breathing too shallow.
It’s a warning I don’t heed.
I call to my power again, until my hands glow with gentle white light. The woman gasps, but my focus is reserved only for my patient. My hands pass over his wounds carefully. One of the bear’s claws nicked his stomach. Focusing, I mend the tissue and soothe the inflammation. Next, I heal the deep gashes until his skin is seamless once more. My power flows through his body, sensing for any other internal damage—there’s a strained muscle in his lower back, and some minor scrapes and cuts.
I open my eyes, raising them to find Zevayr.
I expect fury.
What I find is worse—something soft and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.
Turning to the woman, I softly say, “He’ll sleep for a while. But your Georg will be just fine.” Her eyes are wide, glued to her son’s healed belly. Slowly, she looks at me.Reallylooks at me. Her gaze lingers on my eyes.
“Thank you,” she breathes. Then she tugs me into a tight embrace, her tears warm against my neck.
Zevayr carries Georg back to the cottage and settles him into a bed far too large for his small frame. I blot the sweat from his brow, then draw the covers up to his chest. In the doorway, his mother, Georgaina, hovers helplessly, wringing her hands.
Zevayr’s eyes burn into my back, but I’m too nervous to face him, afraid of what I’ll find.
Instead, I place a hand on Georgaina’s shoulder and give her a warm smile. The older woman wipes a tear from her cheek and insists we stay for a meal. I shoot Zevayr a questioning glance, and he nods. His hand scorches through the fabric of my tunic, searing into my lower back as we follow Georgaina to her modest kitchen. His steady touch anchors me in a way that it shouldn’t.
She feeds us delicious roasted hen and salty potatoes. It’s my first time eating hen—it’s too cold in Tundrayn for the small birds to survive. And after weeks of subsisting on unseasoned rabbit, I think it might be the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. I try to take small bites, but I finish my portion inminutes. Georgaina notices and piles more hen onto my empty plate. Zevayr hides a smile behind his hand.
“We don’t have much,” Georgaina says by way of apology. “But you’re welcome to anything you like.”
“This is perfect.” I smile at her, taking another bite.
“Where is Georg’s father?” Zevayr asks casually, his gaze flitting between me and the worn, wooden door.
Georgaina shakes her head, fingers playing with the checkered tablecloth. “He was summoned to the front lines a few years ago. His sword came home. He never did.”
Suddenly, the hen tastes like ash in my mouth.
“Georg carries the sword everywhere. Says he wants to be a soldier like his Pa. I want something more for him, though. Something better. But … we’re commons.” She shrugs, eyes glistening. “If the war doesn’t end, in a few years, he’ll leave me, too.”
Her words splinter my heart.
I’ve been agonizing over my people, buteveryonehas suffered in this war. Especially nonwielders.
Thisis why I need to get to Arbinj.
Zevayr clears his throat. “Is that a garden you have out back?” He gestures to the window behind me.
She nods. “It’s doing all right. Could do with some more water, though. Well’s empty. Soldiers came through a few weeks ago. Siphoned it dry.”
Tides, did these people haveanyluck?
A muscle ticks in Zevayr’s jaw. “And the Rebellion? Any trouble with them?”
