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Marks popped off the jar’s lid. Inside was a silvery white paste.

“What’s that?” Seph asked.

“A hope and a prayer,” he murmured, which Seph did not find reassuring, especially when he scooped out a glob of the stuff and touched it to the burn.

Oh, mother of all that is holy…

Seph’s entire body flinched and spasmed. Stars danced in front of her eyes and she hissed a string of colorful profanities while Marks held tight to her hand.

There was a moment amidst the agony when she thought he might be grinning beneath that beard, but again, she couldn’t be sure.

Marks wiped another wad of paste over the wound, and a new wave of pain jolted through Seph’s body. Her body convulsed on reflex, and her free hand flew out and struck him across the jaw.

His face snapped away, and he inhaled sharply.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to hit you.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he sounded more amused than angry as he said, “Perhaps grab hold of something before I continue…?”

Seph grabbed a fistful of his tunic—something that also wouldn’t give her splinters—and squeezed tight. He stared at her, as if he was about to object, but his brow furrowed instead, and he set his attention back on the wound, continuing to spread the paste over the bubbling skin. Seph hissed through gritted teeth and squeezed his tunic with every wash of pain. After what felt like an eternity, he snapped the lid back upon the jar and set it aside.

“Are you finished?” Seph whispered. Her entire body was covered in sweat.

“Almost.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, and Seph went rigid. It looked as if he was going to kiss her fingertips, and when he closed his eyes, Seph wondered if he was going to do just that.

He spoke the softest word instead. His hot breath wafted over her skin, and Seph felt the power in it. Theeloit.And slowly—very slowly—the fire began to fade.

And fade.

Until all that remained was a numbness in Seph’s skin.

Marks’s broad shoulders drooped with a long exhale, and he dropped his head, giving her hand back to her.

Quiet.

Seph realized she was still gripping his tunic. She forced open her stiff fingers as she observed the burn upon her other hand. The wound was still blue and bubbly, but glossy from the paste, and the fire was gone—like it’d never been there to begin with. The skin there tingled like a limb that’d fallen asleep, but it didn’t hurt anymore, and it wasn’t spreading.

Marks remained hunched and breathing heavily, as if he’d overexerted himself. Had he drawn too mucheloit? Her grandfather had told her stories about kith who had died doing this.

Seph didn’t know what to think of it. She wasn’t used to others taking care ofher. Marks still hadn’t moved or opened his eyes, and so Seph studied him, his strong profile, somber brow, and that wild hair he wore like a shield.

“Thank you,” she said softly, humbled.

His shoulders expanded with another inhale. “Get some rest.” His voice was ragged. “We’ve got a few long days of travel ahead of us before we reach our destination.”

It took a moment for his words to catch up to her, and she couldn’t help but ask, as a spark of hope flickered to life inside of her, “And…where is that?”

His eyes opened a fraction, and he glanced sideways at her. “My home. Somewhere you’ll be safe until you decide how best to make the journey back to your own.”

Alder had officially lost his mind. There was no other explanation for it. What else could’vepossiblypersuaded him to offer his home as a sanctuary to Josephine? Lunacy, that was what. He was supposed to be staying away from her—far,faraway from her—not bringing her straight tohis home,and for an indefinite period.

But Fates have mercy, when he had gazed upon her, with all that color and strength and determination…

Alder dragged a hand over his face and looked to the tower. The shadows were just beginning to soften with day; she’d awaken soon. If he’d delayed another second, she wouldn’t have been waking at all. That thought was far more unsettling than it should be, and if Rys had any idea…

He’d laugh. Alder could practically hear Rys laughing now. He glared at the sky he could never see, as if Rys were up there now, gloating down at him.

He set his attention back on the ivory bow in his hand. He’d found it in an old cellar, alongside a matching quiver full of arrows, and he’d immediately snatched it up with the intent of giving it to Josephine.