Page 80 of Ashes of Betrayal

Bree’s heart lurched. Powries and trow were coming for her—a large band of them. She was a skilled fighter, but a quick glance told her she was greatly outnumbered.

Frantically, she swung around, to see a white shape, ghostly at first, moving toward her through the trees.

As always, her loyal stag had been waiting for her to call on him.

Ready to run faster than the four winds?

Tivesheh tossed his head.Always.

Sheathing her dagger, Bree tucked the wormwood under one arm and vaulted up onto the stag’s back—just as the powries and trow descended upon her.

They boiled around Tivesheh, weapons thrusting, but the stag was faster.

He leaped high, bounding over them, and took off south.

35: I WILL NEVER FORGET IT

CAILEAN HAD LITTLE time left.

As soon as Bree burst in, holding the plant aloft, Eldra acted swiftly. First, she cleaned the roots, before mashing them up in a pestle and mortar. Lara helped her, the two women working deftly and speaking together in hushed voices.

It reminded Bree of when she’d seen the healer and the princess side-by-side in Eldra’s healing chamber back in Duncrag. Those days seemed an age ago now. How different things had been between her and Cailean then—the deception she’d woven shadowing every interaction—but they’d started afresh.

Bree’s chest constricted. They had a future waiting for them; she couldn’t let Nightbane steal it away.

Mirren was present too, ready to fetch anything the healer needed. And in the corner of the tent stood Torran. Arms, scored by scratches and encrusted with blood, folded across his chest, he watched silently, his face set in severe lines.

Bree barely noticed their presence though. Instead, her gaze roamed over Cailean’s sweat-slicked body. The tattoos inked across his chest, arms, and neck were dark against the sallowness of his skin. He still gasped for breath, his eyes sunken deep into their sockets.

Skaal pressed close, her gaze fixed upon Cailean’s face. The hound gave a low whine as they waited.Hurry.

Once the wormwood root had been prepared, Lara and Eldra carefully poured the precious juice into a narrow vial.

Seated at the healer’s side, Bree watched her peel off the bloodied bandages that covered Cailean’s wound.

One look at it and Bree’s breath hissed through her teeth.

It was swollen and weeping pus. The skin around it had turned a sickly yellow, like the rest of his body. Cailean struggled for breath now, each gasp a shallow, rattling wheeze.

Behind Bree, Lara murmured a curse. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she muttered.

“No,” Bree replied hoarsely. “Nightbane gives a foul death to Shee and Marav alike.”

“Hold the wound open,” Eldra instructed. “As wide as you can manage.”

Leaning forward, Bree did as bid, pulling the ragged lips of the festering arrow wound apart. Holding her breath, she watched then as the healer drizzled the liquid inside.

It took a while, but eventually, she emptied the entire vial. Putting it aside, she then nudged Bree out of the way before she gently pushed the wound closed and massaged the skin around it.

“And now?” Lara asked, her voice strained.

“We wait,” Eldra replied softly.

Time drew out, and Cailean held on.

Nonetheless, each breath he drew in was an effort.

Bree didn’t leave his side, and nor did Skaal.