Page 115 of Esperance

She nodded. “I got separated from Carver when we were ambushed, but Ford found me.”

“Ford?” Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you an Esperance guard?”

“Yes.”

Ford lied quickly, but he wasn’t particularly good at it.

Ivan cocked his head to the side. “Where is your uniform?”

“I’m off rotation. Came up here for a nice bit of fresh air. Nature heals, or so they say.” He looked to Amryn, and actually pouted. “You didn’t threatenhimwith a rock.”

Amryn might have retorted, but Ivan’s legs gave out.

She caught his shoulders, and even though she staggered under his weight, she kept him from slamming face-first onto the jungle floor. “Ivan?”

He blinked, his eyes a little hazy as he tried to focus on her. “I think I may not be all right,” he whispered dully.

Ford darted forward to help lower him to the ground. “Saints,” he bit out. “Look at his leg.”

Amryn did, and her stomach rolled. Blood soaked the rough bandage and his entire leg.

“He’s losing too much blood.” Ford grabbed Amryn’s hand and pressed it against the bleeding leg wound. “We need to close this,” he said. “I think I have needle and thread in my pack.”

Panic fluttered in her chest as Ford bolted, leaving her alone with Ivan.

He was dying. She could feel it.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Ivan said, his quiet voice a faint echo of what it usually was. “I needed to make sure all of you were safe. No one else . . . should die here . . .”

His agony ripped through her. Mostly physical, but there was another pain there, coated in guilt.

“Couldn’t save her,” he cracked out, sweat beading on his forehead. “Didn’t even know she was in danger . . .”

Blood slid between her fingers, but Amryn only tightened her hold on the wound.

Ivan intimidated her, but he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to die here, blaming himself for Cora’s death.

Noneof them deserved to die.

Her spine stiffened. She bent her head, her fingers digging into Ivan’s leg as she did something she hadn’t dared to try in years. Not since the day she’d hugged her mother’s body and sobbed for her to come back.

Unlike that day, there was still life in Ivan.

She latched onto his pain, then she pulled it into herself.

Her breath caught as agony ripped up her leg, but she didn’t stop. She dragged more of his pain inside herself. Her body shook. Something deep inside her burned.

She ignored Ivan’s other wounds. They were minor compared to the damage in his leg, and she couldn’t risk healing too many of his injuries.

She couldn’t risk anyone discovering what she could do.

She didn’t understand her healing ability. Her mother—who could also use her empathic gift to heal others—had taught her a little, but she’d warned Amryn to never use it. It was too obvious of a gift. It could expose her as an empath—a powerful one—which would get her killed.

She wasn’t thinking about that as she fought to save Ivan. Because if she did nothing, he would die, and she couldn’t have his death on her conscience.

As she took on his pain, some of the tension left his body. His torn skin and muscle was knitting back together from the inside out. If she kept going, she could heal him completely—there wouldn’t even be a scar. She couldn’t do that for him, though. Not without risking discovery.

Saints, she was already risking too much. But she refused to stop now.