Page 52 of The Turncoat King
She would learn soon enough, and could do nothing about it now.
“You don’t look so good.” Taira came up beside her. “Deni said you were knocked out cold by that branch.”
She gave a nod, more than happy for her demeanor to be put down to her injuries.
They had just reached the Venyatu column, still lumbering forward at its slow pace, when they were hailed by Raun-Tu, who came galloping down toward them.
When he pulled up beside them, there was a glint of speculation in his eyes. “Avasu, are you well enough to report to the healer’s tent on the far side of the Rising Wave column? The young soldier who went in to help you has had his face cut open, and the Commander says you are the best person to sew it up.”
Ava simply nodded, refusing to allow any emotion to show on her face. She turned to find the best way through the Venyatu column to the Rising Wave beyond.
Why had Luc suggested that? Because he believed she could heal his friend, or to see what happened to the wound? What magic she could work.
She hated that she was suspicious of his motives.
“If you’re sure you’re up to doing it, I’ll come with you,” Taira said, watching Raun-Tu’s back as he galloped off again. “I liked Frederik. You know he believes some crazy story about the Commander’s sword?”
“I’ve heard something about it.” Ava didn’t want to hear the story again. It might lead to Taira bringing up the other story. About the witch who enspelled the Commander of the Rising Wave.
“There’s one about a witch, too.” Taira kept her eyes ahead, and Ava’s stomach sank.
“A witch?” She couldn’t help that her words sounded dead, even to her own ears.
“Who escaped with the Commander and enspelled him.” Taira glanced at her.
“Me, you mean?” Ava asked, and then found a spark of anger inside her. This defeat was the Queen’s Herald—her cousin’s—intent, and when had she ever, ever not fought him? With everything in her.
“Where did this story come from?”
Taira shook her head. “Unknown. But obviously ridiculous. I just thought you should hear about it from a friend rather than anyone else.”
Ava forced herself to laugh. “They must be talking about another woman, because I’ve only just seen him again after two months.”
“That’s what Deni said!” Taira laughed, too, although Ava thought it sounded genuine.
By the time they’d found the healer’s tent, set up a little way away from the moving column beside a large cart, Ava had made a decision about how she was going to proceed.
She had a gift. But that didn’t mean she had to expose herself to harm.
So she would do what good she could, while keeping her secrets to herself.
She couldn’t think of the way she’d exposed herself to Luc. There was nothing she could do about that, except react to the consequences.
Whatever they may be.
She took out her silver needle, and her own thread when the thread the healer offered her was too thick.
She knelt down and had Frederik lie back on her lap, angling them both toward the sun so her arm didn’t create a shadow.
She forced herself to concentrate as she sewed.
This would heal well—very well—and there would be a beautiful scar. Straight and fine, but there. Proof of an injury received in a fierce fight.
There would be no cause to wonder how it disappeared. Because it wouldn’t disappear.
She kept that in her mind as she worked her needle in and out of his skin.
“You look fierce,” Frederik told her, voice a little hoarse. “Like you’re fighting.”
