Page 14 of Wraithwound

“Move along then,” the guard said before giving them a curt nod.

“And make sure you head straight for the Healer’s District to get that treated before you do anything else!” said the other.

Lena nodded in return, not daring to breathe as she returned the tin to her pack and walked past the guards, entering the city with Oscar and James at her sides.

Chapter

Thirteen

Once they were safely ensconced within the crowds on the city streets, Lena took Oscar by the arm and pulled him into an alley. James followed closely behind his father. Lena rolled her shoulders again, willing herself to think past the itching for just a little longer. She gave him an incredulous look. Oscar scrubbed at his face before looking at Lena as if hearing the unasked questions there.

“I’m sorry to have caught you by surprise. It was a last-minute decision,” he said.

Lena nodded, understanding flooding her.

“Is Vera your daughter?” she asked, the adrenaline in her veins banking.

“That’s her middle name,” Oscar said.

“Camille is her first name,” James added.

“And you’re here to look for her?” Lena asked.

Oscar nodded before adding, “And we believe the Commander’s men, his militia, whatever you want to call them, had a hand in her disappearance. In the disappearance of so many.”

“Father,” James warned.

But Oscar continued, “We didn’t want to give them any reason to believe there was yet another woman here they could harm. Women who travel alone are easier targets.”

Lena nodded again. Fools, both of them, and yet, she was grateful that they would risk themselves to look after her. It made her feel less alone somehow.

“I have friends in the city,” she said by way of reply. “They live in the Healer’s District. Their house is the only one built of white stone, and a healer’s banner flies above the door. If you have need of a healer, you can find me there.”

Oscar nodded, but James still stared at his father in disapproval. Lena understood. It was unwise to share information with strangers, especially if it went against the people in power.

“Thank you,” Lena whispered. “May the EverGods aid you in your search for Camille.” Despite her complicated feelings about the Goddess’s absence, the saying was known to bring others comfort.

Unable to stand the itching any longer, Lena slipped into the busy city streets, aiming for Ahgrie’s house. The house of her mother’s longest and dearest friend, which also happened to be the house of the woman she’d once been close to.

Once she’d walked past the busy market stalls and food vendors, Lena found that the City of Enora became a different place entirely. Fear and suspicion leaked from the windows of the residences, set forth by curious eyes and wary citizens who had never fully recovered from the events that had wiped out the capitol. Distrust was both currency and strategy here, and people were quick to turn on each other, fearing that death might creep past their devout vigilance.

While many ran their mouths, spewing rumors and wild assumptions, another part of the population had become incredibly superstitious. They refused to speak of anything related to the day Dovia fell, including the wraiths that wrought so much terror and destruction, or even mention the name of the last reigning king. It was easy to tell The Veiled apart from the rest, as they openly signaled their beliefs by wearing a sheer white veil that sat over the bridge of their noses and hung over their mouths. It was also common to see them setting their index fingers over covered lips to indicate their vow of silence on those matters.

It would be dangerous to seek information here, but Lena was quickly learning what life looked like when you were too afraid to take risks. She pulled her hood down further and quickened her pace. Keeping her face angled away from the windows of the squat houses that made up most of the residences, she carefully dodged strangers on the streets. It was an effort not to run all the way to Ahgrie’s house, but doing so would draw unwanted attention.

When she finally caught a glimpse of the Healer’s District, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She approached the sun-worn door, the healer’s banner still in the chill air, and had raised her fist to knock, when the door swung open. Standing there was Jessa, ash brown hair limp around her pale face, confusion crinkling her brow.

“You’re wearing her cloak, I thought—” She motioned for Lena to come in and peeked down the street behind her. Looking for Henry, she realized. The only thing that kept her from falling into the yawning black pit that was her grief was the intolerable itching.

“Can I use the washroom, first? Then, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

Jessa motioned to the washroom at the back of the house. Lena gave her a grateful smile before walking past the hearth and quaint living space opposite it to the small washroom.

Once she was inside, Lena ripped her pack open and thumbed the lid off the tin, avoiding her still tender fingertips. She yanked at her clothes and began slathering herself in the numbing salve, trembling in restraint. After a long moment that felt more like an eternity, she began to feel the effects, her shoulders sagging with relief.

Once she no longer felt like she was going to claw her own skin off, she quickly inspected the bruising on her ribs and wounds on her chest. It was just as she suspected. The wraithwound was infected, the skin puffy and oozing. She would have to tend to that soon.

Lena stepped out of the washroom and into the living space. The small room was so inviting. She hadn’t remembered how many herbs hung from every shelf, both in the living space and in the kitchen. Almost every surface was covered with notebooks, jars, and discarded greenery just like her mother’s worktable had been. It sent a pang of grief through her. Layered woven carpets in bright colors made the space feel cozy, and in front of the fire was Jessa, waiting for her on the sofa.