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“Alright,” said Amelie.

She blinked until Davron’s hulking form showed at the end of her bed. He remained armed with the sword and crossbow. Prominent dark circles had appeared under his eyes, but he looked otherwise alert. His mouth was a hard line.

“Ow!” said Amelie, withdrawing her leg from Reylene’s grasp.

“Sorry, dear,” said the healer. “The ointment stings, but it’ll ensure the cuts don’t become inflamed. Once the wormwood works its magic, the pain will lessen. And when the poppy potion takes effect, the pain will cease to exist altogether. You will feel like you are flying through azure skies without a care in the world.”

Amelie exhaled, relaxing. The healer possessed the cheery, no-nonsense disposition ideal for her profession. And she was right about the tinctures and potions. Soon, the cuts on Amelie’s legs no longer hurt, tingling in an oddly pleasant way. Reylene expertly tended to each of her injuries in turn, finishing with her battered neck.

Amelie studied the healer’s face, hoping to gauge the severity of the bruising by her reaction, but Reylene’s expression remained unfazed.

“I see you’ve got a Heartstone.” Reylene dabbed Amelie’s neck with ointment that made her skin feel hot and cold at the same time. “Rare, they are. I’ve only seen a few in my time.”

The clamshell was closed. Reylene wouldn’t have been able to work on her with the shell open, Amelie supposed.

The memory of her dream came to her in a flash. She’d seen Levissina weeping inconsolably. The image unsettled Amelie now that she was awake, although she recalled feeling heartrending compassion for the sorceress in her dream.

Levissina tried to murder Amelie and Davron yesterday in brutal ways. So, why on earth was Amelie having such a dream? It almost felt like her mind had betrayed her. Her dreamscape ought not to show Levissina in a pure and sympathetic light after what she’d done.

“Where do Heartstones come from?” Amelie asked Reylene.

“The Beyond, of course.”

“But how?”

Reylene guffawed like Amelie had made a joke. The healer, seeing her patient’s confusion, explained.

“No one knows, dear. Except that, there’s some mighty powerful magic behind it. The loveliest kind, I would say. Wouldn’t you?”

Amelie turned her gaze to Davron, who was as still as a statue. There were infinite things she wanted to say to him, but she did not know where to start, nor if he would ever let her close to him again. His determination to shut her out made Amelie feel like she was more alone than she’d ever been. All she wanted was to talk to him and be close to him.

She tried to communicate some of this yearning with her eyes, hoping to pierce his heavy armor. He looked away.

Defeated, she lay back and let the benevolent oblivion of the medicines take hold. The last one Reylene administered was a potion taken orally. Within moments, Amelie felt like she was floating on a soft, fluffy cloud.

“Injuries of the mind are every bit as serious as physical wounds,” said the healer. “This preparation will help you mentally overcome yesterday’s events while you sleep.”

By the time Reylene started clearing away her instruments, Amelie’s cloud was drifting blissfully in a brilliant blue sky, just as the healer promised.

Through her fuzzy vision, she saw Reylene stand up.

“Now, I’m going to look at your wounds, Davron,” said the healer in her no-nonsense voice. It made Amelie smile to think of him determinedly trying to refuse, and failing. “I’ll not hear a word?—”

And a moment later, Amelie was gone.

She was alone when she next awoke.

The first thing she noticed was how good she felt. Her lungs and throat no longer hurt, and when she kicked back the blankets, she was astonished to find her cuts had almost healed. They had turned from gashes into pale pink lines. How long had she slept?

A water pitcher sat on her nightstand, and she poured herself a glassful. The cool liquid on her cotton-dry throat was divine. She tried to stand, but prickling dizziness engulfed her head.

While she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the dizziness to subside, she wondered why Davron was no longer watching over her. Straining her hearing, she discerned male voices downstairs. She could not understand what they were saying, only that several men were present.

Fearing the worst, Amelie was immediately alert. Was the castle under attack again? She reached for her silver rose beside the pillow. The clamshell was closed on the nightstand.

Before she could summon the strength to investigate, footsteps grew louder in the hallway. Was her door locked or barricaded? But then she realized the long stride of the footsteps was familiar.

Sure enough, Davron opened the door. He, too, looked in far better health than when she’d seen him last. At least, on the outside. The moment they lay eyes on each other, he cast aside his gaze, determined to be as remote as ever.