Page 7
“I’ll put it on my list.”
“And Hephaestus? Does he dance?”
“I think he’d rather build the stage than perform on it.” Then, a second later, “He loves to dance with Aphrodite.”
By the time they reached the back door, Korinnae had moved on to asking whether humans really lived in buildings taller than mountains and if every city had food carts on every corner. Ria answered each question without hesitation, smiling as the girl’s endless curiosity carried them inside, so engrossed in the conversation that she barely noticed Asterion holding the door open for them until she was already walking past him. Once inside Korinnae’s room, the calf made a beeline for her bed and bounced onto the thick quilt with a happy sigh.
Asterion shook his head. “The couch.”
Her ears drooped. “But—”
“It’s better for the checkup.”
Korinnae let out an exaggerated pout that would have melted just about anyone else, then slowly climbed off the bed and shuffled to the small couch beneath the window. She plopped down with all the theatrical disappointment a ten-year-old could muster.
“Thank you.” Ria smiled sympathetically. She drew in a breath and held out her hand. “My kit.”
A shimmer of violet light flickered in the air before a worn leather satchel materialized beside her.
Korinnae’s eyes went wide. “I love when you do that!”
Ria set it between them. With a soft pop, the brass clasps released on their own, and the satchel unfolded far wider than it should have been able to, revealing neatly organized rows of bottles, herbs, polished stones, folded bandages, and instruments tucked into impossibly deep compartments.
“It got bigger!”
“It always does.”
“Ooh…” The little calf leaned forward until her nose was nearly inside the bag.
Before she could reach in, Asterion gently nudged her shoulder. “Give the witch space.”
Ria’s fingers froze for the briefest moment.
The witch.
Not Ria.
Not healer.
Not even our guest.
Just…the witch.
She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his and hated how he looked back without a hint of apology.
Ria narrowed her gaze, a dozen pointed replies lining up on the tip of her tongue. She could have reminded him that the “witch” had been the one helping his niece heal. That the “witch” had crossed worlds because Hecate believed Korinnae deserved every chance to recover. Instead, she swallowed every single one. This wasn’t the time.
She turned her attention back to the little girl. “Ready?”
Korinnae nodded.
“Just like before.” She took one of the calf’s hands in both of hers.
A gentle golden warmth spread from Ria’s palm, flowing into Korinnae. The magic wasn’t flashy. There were no crackling sparks or dramatic flashes of light. It simply radiated outward in soft waves, carrying with it the pulse of Ria’s touch affinity.
The room faded as she closed her eyes. Her awareness followed the current of magic as it drifted through Korinnae’s body, feeling rather than seeing: healthy muscles, strong bones, a heartbeat that was steadier than it had been days ago. The lingering exhaustion had eased. Good. Very good. Slowly, she guided the warmth higher. Across the girl’s shoulders, along her back, down each arm. The flow remained smooth until it reached the places the hunters had marked.
There, the warmth faltered. It wasn’t pain or active injury. It was resistance, a river clogged with fallen branches, the current standing against its own blockade. Healing energy reached the damaged areas only to slow, catching against something invisible before reluctantly seeping through.
