LITMIR.BIZ

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into a ditch and broken his left leg below the knee. Ginger had immobilized it in a splint. Although he claimed he felt fine, there was no mistaking his stiff movements and tight expression.

      I consulted with the caregiver on duty. “Has anyone given Private Davin medicine for the pain?”

      “Yes, he drank a cup of bittwait.”

      “How long ago?”

      “Right after supper.”

      He shouldn’t be in pain. I returned to his bedside. Davin had been carried in this morning. I’d done a quick visual exam, spotted the broken leg and let Ginger do the rest. Perhaps I’d been too quick. Healing magic gathered in my core. When I placed my hand on his forehead, I let my magic flow into Davin.

      His leg was broken in two places, not one, and he had a couple cracked ribs and a sprained ankle. No wonder a single cup of bittwait hadn’t worked. I fetched the caregiver and, after he drank another cup, we wrapped his ribs and ankle and also immobilized his entire leg. I stayed with him until the crinkles on his forehead relaxed and he fell asleep.

      Guilt throbbed along with the ever-present grief inside me. If I hadn’t been so anxious to leave this morning, I’d have used my magic and known the extent of the young man’s injuries. He wouldn’t have suffered all day.

      Wide awake, I lay next to the small fire in my cavern, staring at the flames. Our plans for tomorrow meant I’d be gone for two days at least. And for what? To keep my hope alive? To do something, anything, just so I could say I wasn’t giving up. Stopping the search didn’t have to mean I’d given up hope. Or accepted his death.

      We were at war, and my patients needed me here. And I couldn’t forget about my promise to Mom, the innkeeper of the Lamp Post Inn. She had done so much for me, creating my disguise so I could go undercover in Estrid’s army. I’d promised her I’d keep her daughter, Melina, safe. Melina had been conscripted into Estrid’s army and then sent to the monastery in Chinska Mare for not being a virgin. While Melina was safe from the war, there was no way I’d let her stay incarcerated.

      I’d tell the guys my decision in the morning. At least now I’d have time to figure out a way to rescue Melina while Flea and I experimented to learn the extent of his magic.

      Even after making the difficult decision, sleep still eluded me. I considered other hard decisions and wondered what Cellina would do about Tohon. She had to know I’d refused to heal him. Unless... I sat up. Unless she had Kerrick!

      We’d assumed she’d retreated to safety after our encounter. But what if she’d doubled back? What if she’d seen Kerrick leave the cave and captured him? What if Sepp put him into a magical stasis so Cellina could negotiate with me? Kerrick’s life for Tohon’s.

      I wilted. She would have sent a messenger by now. And I wouldn’t heal Tohon. Not even for Kerrick. Or Belen. If he was her prisoner, which we hadn’t confirmed. Plopping back on my bedroll, I endured another bout of sorrow and wished my healing power could heal a broken heart.

      * * *

      In the morning, I gathered my determination. Moping wouldn’t change a thing. However, actions would. I focused on the positive. For example, Flea’s magic. If Belen had been touched by Sepp, we had a way to free him.

      The monkeys and Flea weren’t surprised by the change in plans. A sad acceptance emanated from their hunched postures. Flea bent his head so his long bangs covered his eyes.

      “Don’t give up,” I said. “I’m not. Kerrick’s the most stubborn person we know. He’ll show up one way or another. But for now, we need to concentrate on Flea.”

      Flea glanced up. “Me?”

      “Yes.” I sat next to him. “We need to determine the extent of your new ability and figure out if you’re a true death magician. We know you can break a stasis, but can you put someone in one?”

      “I...I don’t know.”

      “Then we’ll need a volunteer.”

      The three of us looked at Quain.

      Quain put his hands up. “Hold on. I’ve already gone through it.”

      “Which makes you the expert,” Loren said. “You can tell us if Flea did it right or not.”

      “It’s the ‘or not’ that I’m worried about,” Quain said.

      “Sepp said he can’t take a life like Tohon could, but he can freeze life in a fake death,” I explained.

      “But how do I do that? When Quain was frozen, I had this weird compulsion to touch him. And when I did—” he grimaced at the memory “—it felt like my stomach turned inside out. It was the same when you were in trouble. I got this...sour feeling. But right now, I’ve got nothing.”

      “Maybe you need to concentrate on it,” I suggested. “Think about pausing his life.”

      “Uh, I don’t like the sound of that.” Quain scooted away from Flea.

      “It doesn’t hurt, you big baby,” Loren said.

      “Then why don’t you volunteer?”

      “That’s enough,” I said to the monkeys. “This is important. If he’s able to do it, it’ll save lives.”

      “I’ll try.” Flea closed his eyes. He twisted his shirt in his hands. After a minute, he opened them. “Nothing. Sorry.”

      “Try again, but this time, put your hand on Quain’s arm,” I said. “Quain, push your sleeve up.”

      Frowning, Quain exposed a muscular forearm. His loose shirt hid his powerful build, but the muscles on his neck bulged with tension. Flea rested his fingers on Quain’s arm, closed his eyes again and pressed his lips together.

      We waited.

      Flea gasped and jerked his hand away. He stared at Quain in horror.

      Quain looked confused. “Did he pause me?”

      “No,” Loren said.

      “What’s wrong?” I asked Flea.

      “I—I think...I’m going to be sick.” Flea dashed out of the cave.

      I chased after him. He bent over a bush, vomiting. When he finished, he sank to the ground. Kneeling next to him, I put my hand on his sweaty forehead. My magic didn’t stir. At least he wasn’t truly sick.

      The monkeys hovered by the cave’s entrance. When Flea spotted Quain, he squeaked in alarm. I gestured to them, waving them back inside. Sitting back on my heels, I dropped my hand.

      “What happened, Flea? Talk to me, please.”

      He drew in a deep breath, then met my gaze. I almost glanced away. His light green eyes shone with pain and grief. His haunted expression looked straight through me for a moment. “You can’t tell Quain. Promise me.”

      Uh-oh. “I promise.”

      “I saw his death. When, where, how. All the gory details.”

      “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Flea.”

      He shook his head. “Not your fault. I need to learn... But I’m not going to tell him or anyone else. Not now. Okay?”

      “Yes. We’ll stop experimenting. Ryne has that book—”

      “No. I need to know what else I can do. It’s too important.” He took my hand and relaxed a bit. “Touch is still okay.” He gave me a half smile. “Guess I need to concentrate in order to see. And, truthfully, I never want to do it again.”

      “You don’t have to.” And at the moment, I couldn’t think of a reason he’d need to. Except... “Uh, Flea. Can you at least tell me...”

      “Not soon. He’ll be annoying us for a while.”

      I sagged against

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