He had done his best to persuade her to leave, but everything about her, from the coldness in her eyes to her wary posture, convinced him she would not. He had no idea who she was. He only knew that they had the same purpose.
She was beautiful and radiant. He remembered the concern in her eyes. The same concern drove her now, pushing her toward acts of violence. On the surface, he’d be a fool to turn her down. She was driven by tragedy, just like him, and she would be incorruptible, just like him. He needed a blade to kill, but she could kill dozens at once empty-handed. She was Death, and she had just asked to be his ally.
Walking next to him would break her. He’d fought so hard to spare Sophie from this grisly soul-eating burden. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes to this woman.
“How often can you do this?” He pointed at the corpses, delaying his need to answer.
She frowned. “The process is complicated. When I healed you, I used the reserves of my own body to speed your regeneration. When I injure, the method is similar. It takes very little magic to introduce a pathogen to the body, but to make it kill with unnatural quickness requires a lot of power and control. To kill this many, I infected them all, then siphoned off the natural life force of their bodies until I was overflowing with it. There is a high degree of risk: had I poured too much of myself into the process, I would’ve died, but I am very angry, and I’ve never killed with my magic before, so I took the chance. Given ample rest and the right circumstances, I can do this again tomorrow.”
“Would you risk it without rest?” Richard asked.
“If the incentive was high enough,” she said.
So she valued her goal higher than her life. He would have to take that into account. She was likely to overextend herself on her own.
“What about doing this on a smaller, individual scale?”
The woman shrugged. “Infecting a single target is much easier.”
“Are you still capable of healing?”
She reached over and drew her hand across his cheek, letting the tiny golden sparks penetrate his skin. The ache in his face dissolved.
“Does the bruise still hurt?” she asked.
“No.” It was in his best interests to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help himself. “What you do . . . it’s a gift. Reconsider.”
Bitterness dripped from her voice. “Too late.”
“Are you able to control your magic? Can you rein it in?” Richard had to account for all possible contingencies.
“Yes,” she said. “What I do requires a very deliberate intent and concentration. I won’t be infecting you in my sleep because I had a nightmare.”
“Do you have any family? Anyone who could be used to compel you to do something against your will?” Anyone he could use to talk her out of this madness.
“No.”
“Do you have any enemies?”
“Yes. Elvei Leremine, my ex-husband. He’s terrified of me and will take every opportunity to obtain revenge. Also, by using my art and magic to murder, I’ve broken the healer’s oath. If I’m discovered by the realm, Adrianglia will execute me. If you don’t want this to happen, the use of my magic must be more covert.”
He was running out of questions.
“There is one more thing you should be aware of,” she said. “I can’t heal myself. If I’m injured, I’ll have to recover by normal means unless we can find another healer.”
She had committed herself to it. She would embark on this path with or without him, but her chances of survival were much higher if he took her with him. She had great power, but she was vulnerable. This time she got lucky. If he abandoned her now, eventually she would walk into the wrong camp. It would take just one man to shoot her dead or knock her unconscious. She had saved him twice, once from the wound and the second time from the cage. No matter how much he didn’t want to witness her transformation into someone like him, he owed it to her to safeguard her.
Richard held out his hand. “Last chance to turn back.”
“No.” She put her hand into his.
“These are my terms. You will accept my authority. If I say to wait in a certain place, you will wait. If I say to kill someone, you will kill them. You understand that your life is secondary to our cause. If your compassion jeopardizes our mission, I may not be in a position to be merciful. If you choose to hinder me, I’ll cut you down.”
He waited, hoping he’d scared her off.
Her face showed no hesitation. “Agreed.”
They shook.
“My name is Richard Mar.”
“Charlotte de Ney,” she said with a sigh.
A noble title. She had mentioned she had one, but even if she didn’t, he would have known simply by the way she held herself. Blood itself, noble or no, didn’t confer any special benefits. He was living proof of that—an Edger mongrel, yet he could and had passed for a blueblood many times. But he had years of education, and he recognized in Charlotte the grace and poise that training imparts.
Propriety dictated that he should let go of her hand. He did, although he didn’t want to.
“We start with the bodies,” Richard said. “Voshak should carry a copy of the cipher. One more thing.”
“Yes?” She raised her eyebrows.
“The dog.”
“What about him?”
“You can’t possibly mean to take him with us.”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“He’s a wolfripper. Born and bred to hunt wolves, and since he was owned by the slavers, he was trained to hunt men. You’re looking at 170 pounds of cunning and vicious predator.”
“I’m so glad you think he’s smart.” Charlotte smiled at the dog. “The dog stays, Richard.”
He sighed.
Charlotte pushed herself up from the pile of bags. He read exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders. Her magic had come at a cost. He decided not to argue.
“As you wish.” Richard handed her his knife. “We have some corpses to strip. It’s easier to cut pockets than rummage through them. We may have to ride hard once we find what we’re looking for. Can you do it?”
Charlotte raised her head, her gaze regal and proud. “Of course I can.”
FOUR