“Do you have any sensation around the wound? If I put pressure here, what do you feel?” The healer pressed straight on the gash, burning and rancid as it was. Amarande expected Luca to react as if he’d been stabbed, and grabbed his hand to brace him. But Luca just shrugged. “It’s numb. I simply feel the pressure.”
“How about here?” Naiara moved her finger to the outside edge of the black. It was swollen there, misshapen and jutting outward off his leg in a wormy line.
“Still nothing?”
Luca nodded.
“And here?” She pressed farther up his leg, where his skin was the proper golden brown.
“I feel that.”
The old woman nodded, taking it in. “And below the cut? Can you feel your foot?”
Again, Luca nodded, and the woman continued on with more questions. “Other symptoms? Vomiting? Sweats? Loss of coordination?”
With each question, frustration and impatience grew within Amarande. She swallowed and tried to address the woman as kindly as possible. “Can you cure him, Naiara?”
“‘Cure’ is the wrong word.”
The princess bit back an automatic retort—this woman rubbed her every wrong way imaginable. Though she looked the part, she was not a variation on Maialen and Abene. The princess wished greatly for a similar, easy connection. It was crucial that this visit be successful.
“Anti-venom will work to neutralize what’s in his system, yes. Sterilization may help his wound work toward the recovery process. But,kidege”—and here she placed a hand on Luca’s face—“you may have that numbness for the rest of your time on this earth. There is nothing I can do to recover feeling there except beg the stars.”
Luca nodded.
Amarande said, “Let’s get to administering, then.”
Naiara kept her hand on Luca’s face and turned to Amarande. “Payment?”
Finally, down to business.
Relieved, the princess dutifully fished a diamond from her pouch, careful not to reveal the whole contents. The necklace was at least a hundred carats, all large stones, and had been chosen by Abene for Amarande’s dinner with Renard specifically because those diamonds were set in gold from Pyrenee. The princess rather liked that it was now in pieces.
“I shall give you this diamond, about twenty carats in weight and of perfect Ardenian clarity.”
Señe gasped, her dark eyes going round. But Naiara simply threw her head back and laughed. “A diamond?”
Amarande exchanged a quick glance with Luca, who was just as baffled as she.
“Two, then.” The princess set her shoulders back, trying to be the very image of a negotiation that had met its end, but she knew that this was the type of woman who would be able to see in her eyes that she’d give everything she had for Luca.
Naiara’s laugh continued until she was wiping tears from her face. “Little queen, I have no need for your diamonds.”
Amarande’s jaw dropped—startled at both the nickname and the rejection. No beloved ancient Torrentian for her, only judgment, dismissal, and coincidence… she hoped.
The princess drew in a shaky breath and continued, wishing she’d approached this differently. Tongue dry, she finally said, more feebly than she’d like, “They’re the highest quality.”
Naiara arched a brow. “Can I eat them? Can I milk them for tincture? No.”
“Do you have gold, perhaps?” Señe asked, and then smiled, pointing to her teeth. “We occasionally melt it to fill rotten teeth.”
“No.” The gold setting was in a tree stump at the water stop. Completely useless.
Luca placed a calming hand on Amarande’s wrist and spoke to the healer directly. “What do you require, Naiara?”
The woman’s eyes fell to Luca. Again, she looked on him with a kindness she didn’t afford Amarande. “Your horse.”
“Our horse?”
