Zander
“Ineed to see. Please, allow me.” Gesine kneels before the warrior where we laid her in the grass, the burning oak providing plenty of light for the caster.
Zorya grits her teeth and snaps the shaft protruding from her body. “Stop talking and do it, then.”
Gesine unfastens Zorya’s vest with gentle fingers.
Nearby, Elisaf drags the bodies of the attackers into a heap.
“You were supposed to meet us at the bridge. What happened?” Abarrane’s face is streaked in blood—none of it hers.
“Three men were prowling. I figured I’d lure them here and kill them out of sight of the guards on the wall, to avoid drawing attention to us.” Zorya pants through the pain, struggling to speak.
“But an axle broke,” Gesine continues. “We started the fire to give Ocher enough light so he could try to fix it. That must have been what drew them in.”
My gaze veers to the fallen man, lying in a heap. “I’m surprised they didn’t take him alive.”
“I guess they were more interested in the two women in the wagon.”
“They didn’t realize one was a batty old seer and the other, a witch with a nasty temper.” Zorya cackles, but it quickly dissolves into a grimace of pain.
“How is the seer?” I glance at the back of the wagon. There’s been no sign of her.
“She sleeps.” Gesine’s face is worried as she holds open the leathers to expose the wound beneath. “The arrow is lodged in her lung.”
“Merth.” Zorya’s teeth grit. “It burns.”
“Riding will only cause more damage. I need to treat this immediately.”
Zorya’s one good eye searches the caster’s features in the firelight. “What are you waiting for, then?”
Gesine looks at me.
“Start now. We need to wait until Loth and Jarek get here with the horses.”
“Your Highness.” Settling into a cross-legged pose on the ground, the caster closes her eyes and begins her work.
I ride back up the hill, desperate to feel Romeria’s body tucked against mine again, where it’s safe. She infuriated me with that stunt in Bellcross, putting herself in danger like that. So many things could have gone wrong. She must learn to surrender a few for the many. In that, she would be flawed as a leader.
Yet I cannot fault her motivation. It’s who she is. It’s part of what I fell in love with.
When she does things like that … it reminds me that I love her still, Aoife’s curse or not.
And that is a problem.
All is quiet at the crest. “You can come out now. It is done.”
No one responds.
I dismount and move for the boulders, only to find the space empty. “Romeria?” She wouldn’t have run at her first chance, not without the caster to guide her. Not unless she’s foolish enough to think she can figure it out on her own.
Or desperate enough to get away from me.
A sinking feeling hits the pit of my stomach.
I’ve been too cold toward her.
I’ve hurt her too much.