A distant part of Thia’s mind warned her that this was futile without the antidote. The poison would still be in her blood, even if she could temporarily resuscitate her.
But she couldn’t give up.
Again.
Again.
The world around her faded. She felt a tug in her chest, an urgency that spurred her on, connected her to her patient, and then—
The woman came to with a start. She reached for Thia, just to collapse again, lids shuttering. Then she stilled. Thia darted forward to feel her pulse.
It was strong, her breathing deep and steady. She wasn’t dead. She was sleeping.
It shouldn’t have been that easy.
Thia waved the man holding the compress aside and looked at the stomach wound. It was still bleeding, but the discoloration was fading.
Impossible.
“You saved her.” Sorscha had returned. When, Thia had no idea.
“I—” The poison must have just run its course. There was no other explanation.
“Here,” Thia said, beckoning Sorscha over. “Let’s stitch her. Quickly.”
When it was done, Thia leaned back against the dresser.
“Will she be alright?” Sorscha asked.
Thia was definitely not qualified to make that assessment, but the woman sounded distressed. “I think so.”
“That was some very quick thinking, girl,” the man said. “I’m Pagdan.” He had dark, kind eyes and deep brown skin that looked nearly black in the dim torchlight.
“Haven’s commander,” Sorscha explained, though Thia recognized the name from Dess’s tale. “’Course, he’d never use that word for himself.”
“Thank you for your help,” Pagdan said to the other three men, dismissing them with a nod. They left, one after the other, and Pagdan turned back to Thia. “I meant to find you last night, but I was caught up speaking to our council. Perhaps we should talk, you and I, if you aren’t too tired.”
Her veins were fizzing with energy after everything, so she nodded.
“Stay with your daughter, Sorscha,” he said, and Thia’s mouth dropped.
Daughter?But of course, they had the same monolid, the same medium brown skin and high cheekbones. Other than their heights, the similarities were unmistakable.
Sorscha nodded her gratitude, and Thia followed Pagdan out into the night. With only a candle to guide them, it was a struggle not to trip, and Thia was relieved when he brought them around the back of Sorscha’s hut to a semicircle of chairs. He gestured for her to sit, and then followed in kind.
“We’ve been in need of a healer for some time,” he started. “It’s a good life here. A simple one. But safe—or as safe as one can be in Eldris these days. A real home, with people who take care of one another.”
“I have a home,” Thia said. “I’m trying to get back to it.”
He folded his hands in his lap. “And how do you propose to do that? Sorscha told me you are not of this realm.” He didn’t sound skeptical, just curious.
She twisted her fingers in the folds of her borrowed nightdress. “I was told the Mage King could help me.”
His brow rose. “Told by whom?”
“A sorceress. She said her name was Callista.”
“Callista,” he echoed.
