“Who . . . are . . . you?” My voice is a rusty hinge. She hands me a cup of warm broth. I gag on the drink, which tastes like dirt and flour. In addition to the woman’s disheveled hair, shadows linger beneath her eyes. “You don’t look so good.”
“Ha.” A smile flickers across her thin lips. “I look a league better than you, so watch your mouth. Besides, you’ve slept for almost a week while I’ve watched you night and day,” she says, and then coaxes me into taking more sips of the broth. My stomach manages it somehow, and as it settles inside me, it has a subtle strengthening effect. “We didn’t know if you’d make it. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Pardon me, but who are you? And what happened?” Pieces of memory fill my head. The castle. Lord Jamis fighting Captain Omar. King Aodren’s blood. And then Cohen taking my hand. “Cohen,” I whisper, when my thoughts settle on an image of him wounded and pale beside me. “Where is he?”
She chuckles. “My name is Gillian. I am one of King Aodren’s healers. And I sent your Cohen away. He needs his rest too. Course, he’s doing better than you. Other than a sword wound that needed to be patched, he just needed sleep. He wasn’t getting any over here with how he kept a hawk eye on you. Finally he listened and returned to the castle to catch up on his rest. We would’ve kept you there as well, but Cohen insisted you would heal better here.”
Relief and confusion come together at once. “Why would he go to the castle?”
“So he could rest.” She runs a cloth over my forehead. “Perhaps you should close your eyes and sleep some more.”
She doesn’t understand, and I do not have the energy to explain. I heave out a sigh. “How long have I been here?”
“Six days.”
Before I can ask more, a knock sounds at the door. Captain Omar ducks his head in with Leif at his side. Alarmed, I move to grab my dagger, only to discover my body isn’t responding. My movements are creaky and so painful, I give up and fall back against the bed.
Gillian places her hand on my head, holding me down. “Lie back.”
“How is—?” Captain Omar stops in midsentence when Leif interrupts: “She’s awake.”
“She woke moments ago.” Gillian leaves my side and approaches them. “I won’t allow ya to upset her. She needs her rest.”
“That’s not on my agenda for today,” says Captain Omar before he steps around the healer. Leif remains by the door.
“I’ll speak with him,” I volunteer before she pushes him out, knowing what must be coming. He knows I’m a Channeler.
Gillian moves around him and thrusts another cup of her brew in my face. “Drink this first,” she says.
When the cup is empty, Captain Omar pulls a chair beside the bed. He looks different from the last time we spoke. A few more cuts, bruises, and a little less vengeance blazing in his eyes.
“I know you’re recovering, so I’ll make this brief.” He nods to Gillian before turning back to me. “First, I wanted to say Enat’s death wasn’t my plan. Tomas acted rashly, and he deserved the end he received.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I lower the cup to my lap, focusing on the final dregs to keep my sadness at bay. I never imagined I could lose so much.
I dare to meet Captain Omar’s eye. “What does this mean for me?”
“Tomas acted without my command, thus any injury he sustained from a defensive attack is his fault.” Even as he says this, I can see lines deepening on his forehead, as though it pains him to grant me amnesty. “As far as the law is concerned, you acted in defense of the king. You also had an agreement with the high lord, which the king has agreed to honor. You found your father’s murderer and are now absolved of your crimes.”
I blink. “Absolved of my crimes?”
“You’re free to go and live your life, Britta.”
Any relief to be had is at odds with the pain of Enat’s passing. In spite of the freedom he’s offering, I cannot muster anything more than a grimace. He’ll forever be connected to Enat’s death.
“What about my—”
“I know what you did to save the king.” The captain cuts me off. “And no one is accusing you of anything more than tending to King Aodren.” He gives me a knowing look. “Understand?”
He’s completely turning a blind eye to my Channeler ability.
“You’re a smart girl, Britta. I think you understand me just fine. You risked your life for him and this country. Your actions were honorable.” He shifts beside me. “And . . . and I am here to apologize.”
Never in a thousand years would I have expected such a confession from Captain Omar. “Pardon. Did you say you needed to apologize?”
“Yes.” His answer is scant more than grunt.
“Am I dead?”
“Britta, don’t give the captain a hard time,” Leif warns without conviction. “He’s already here, groveling at your bedside for his many, many mistakes and misjudgment of your character, failures that might possibly have brought more harm to the king. Don’t make it any worse.”
Omar’s face purples. Leif laughs.