He seemed genuinely baffled by it. Like Casrian’s trust was a rare commodity and she was clearly unworthy of having it bestowed upon her.
“Maybe he could tell I’m a trustworthy person.”
Emrys scoffed. Before he could ask another question, a young soldier walked up with her bag and set it down at the captain’s feet.
“We recovered the horse,” the soldier reported. “The bag looks to be hers. It’s full of women’s things and potions.”
She huffed in annoyance. “They’re salves, not potions. For healing. There’s a map in there too,” she told the captain. “That’s for you. Casrian asked me to give it to you when you arrived so you could follow him to the nest.”
When the captain reached for the bag, she looked at the young soldier. “Is Sol all right?”
The younger man eyed her with open curiosity. “The medic is looking at him now.”
“My horse?”
“Winded, but unhurt.”
Emrys’s green eyes flicked up in annoyance. “You may go private.”
A blush touched the young soldier’s neck, and he nodded stiffly. Emrys rifled through her bag. The jars of carefully packed salves clacked together. Surely he would see the bandages too. He found the map and pulled it out, unrolled it, and signaled to a soldier standing behind her. A lantern was brought forward and placed at the captain’s feet. The soldier resumed his post behind her, presumably to kill her if she tried doing anything witchy.
Cold settled into her body as the rush of energy from the fight faded. She clamped her jaw against her chattering teeth and tightened her shoulders.
Without looking up from the map, Emrys said, “Someone get her a blanket.”
A heavy weight fell on her shoulders, but for some reason that only made the shaking worse.
After a moment, Emrys folded the map and leaned forward. “Tell me about the nest.”
She told him the same thing she’d told Casrian about the fort, but she resented every moment that they sat there talking. Casrian and his men could be there now, fighting the witch, and they were still hours away. They’d already wasted too much time.
Before the captain finished questioning her, another soldier approached. The captain nodded for him to speak.
“The wound is infected, but it was treated properly. It will heal better once he’s away from the corruption.” The man, who must be the medic, glanced her way. “You sewed him up?”
She nodded.
“It was good work.”
The captain gestured toward her bag. “Take a look at the jars in there.”
The medic crouched beside her bag and took out the salve her mother had made. “Yarrow,” he said. “Smells clean.” The other he didn’t even open, just tossed in his hand. “This is one of ours. Probably from Asher’s stock.”
When the captain looked at her again, there was more speculation and less hostility in his expression. “How long ago did you part ways?”
“We left them at dawn.” The sun was beginning to set now. “They’ve probably already reached the fort by now.”
He nodded sharply as if coming to some decision. To the medic, he said, “Have your apprentice take Dain’s man back to Sulen. I can’t spare you.”
“I can go with him,” she said. “My home is closer, and my mother is a better healer than I am. We can take care of him there.”
The captain frowned at her. “You’re talking about the squatter’s camp at the edge of the woods.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’ve heard it called that, yes. It’s got a name—Toam.”
“The healer there is a branded witch. Is that your mother?”
She nodded, and he looked less than pleased with her response. She doubted it would do her any good to try to convince him that the brand had been an awful mistake, so she held her tongue.
