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The water feels nice against my skin, and I allow myself to enjoy it while I scrape a week’s worth of grime from my body. I towel off when done, brush through my hair quickly, and leave it down—it’s far too short to do much with anyway. When dressed, I see myself back out through the door and nearly run into Petrik. He’s also taken advantage of a bath and new clothes.

“Do you have news?” I ask. “How is she?”

“Unchanged.”

What?“Why? Why hasn’t she been healed? Where is this healer you promised? Why is everything happening so slowly? Do I have to go banging on doors in the castle?”

Petrik stops me before I can ramble further. “I don’t know the answers to those questions yet, but Prince Skiro wishes to speak with us all.”

Good, then I can demand answers from him myself.

I let Petrik lead me down a hall covered in the richest of tapestries. Music drifts to us from some faraway room, and I cannot guess the instrument. Something with strings. Petrik doesn’t stop moving until we arrive in a room also decorated in woven tapestries and fine rugs on the floor. Between the tapestries are bookcases lined with shelves of tomes. The music is louder in this room, though the players are not within. Perhaps they are in the next room over.

A modest table is heaped with food. Rich sauces over juicy meats and no less than five different casks of wine. The prince’s personal guard line the walls, Skiro himself seated at the head of the small table, Kellyn beside him, taking large bites of buttered bread.

I shouldn’t be angry at them both for eating while Temra is dying, but I amfurious.

“Ah.” Skiro looks up. “Please be seated. Fill your bellies. You must have quite the stories to tell after such a journey.”

Neither Petrik nor I move, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have him at my side, united in my cause.

Skiro sighs and drops the leg of chicken he’d been bringing to his lips. “I am beyond grateful to you all for bringing me the traitor Kymora, though I am surprised, brother, that you would turn on her.”

“I learned of her plans to kill you and the others and take the entire kingdom for herself. I couldn’t allow that to happen. It was Ziva who learned of it and stopped her.” He gestures to me. “Her sister is the one dying, and we beg the use of Serutha.”

Skiro’s eyes land on me. They light up, and a far-too-bright smile stretches over his lips. He shakes himself, as though just remembering something before turning back to his brother. “You should not have told them about her—I don’t care how good of friends you are.”

“I consider them family now,” Petrik answers.

“Is it a life debt that binds you to them? Is that what caused you to betray the trust of our friend Serutha?”

“It’s Temra.”

“The dying girl.”

“I love her, Skiro. And I need you to save her.”

I shift uncomfortably at the words. I had guessed, of course, but hearing Petrik admit something so personal aloud has my secondhand embarrassment kicking in. But if it gets Skiro to finallyact, then—

“Oh, I see.” Skiro’s expression deflates. “I’m so sorry, Petrik, but she’s not here.”

“Who?” Petrik asks.

“Serutha.”

“Well then, send for her! Where is she?”

“A few weeks ago, our dear brother Ravis sent spies into the palace. They learned of Serutha’s abilities and snuck away with her in the dead of night. She’s in Ravis’s Territory by now.”

A desperate cry looses from my lips as I sink to my knees on the floor. No no no no no nononononono…

We made it. We brought Kymora. Temra survived the journey.

But the healer isn’t here.

My sister is going to die.

I feel my breathing pick up, but I force words through my lips. “Pack the wagon, then. We’re going to Ravis.”