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Melantha pulled away from Rharreth and hurried into the room. A white sheet had been strung across the back half of the room, but when she pushed it aside, she found a long table that was also draped with a white sheet. A jug of juice was set on a wooden chair along the wall while Vriska stood in the corner, arms crossed and scowling. Her scowl deepened as her gaze landed on Melantha, but she stayed where she was.

For some reason, Melantha’s heart thumped harder in her chest, her muscles relaxing at the familiar sight of a makeshift hospital room. Could it be that she had missed healing? Even though she had resented that she had healing magic and that it prevented her from fulfilling her dream of becoming a great elf warrior like her father and brothers, it was still a part of who she was.

Melantha turned, finding that Rharreth had followed her inside. He waved around the room. “Will this be acceptable?”

“Yes, I believe so. Please send the first patient in.” Melantha took a station next to the table.

Rharreth left, leaving Melantha temporarily alone with Vriska. Thankfully, Vriska took her duty to be a silent guard lurking in the corner very seriously and did not so much as twitch from her angry scowl.

The first patient turned out to be a woman suffering from a chronic cough. Melantha healed the buildup of fluid in the troll woman’s lungs.

The next patient was a troll family whose four children were all suffering symptoms of malnourishment. The father and mother were not much better off than the children, and Melantha eased magic into all of them to strengthen them, then sent them home with a large jug of juice laced with more magic.

The third patient was a young boy whose arm had been broken in the past and had healed badly, leaving the arm weak and continually in pain. His mother accompanied him inside the curtained off part of the room while the troll father waited with Rharreth.

Melantha considered the boy where he sat on the table, his legs swinging. She would have to re-break his arm before she could heal it properly. “Please lie down.”

The boy’s eyes were wide, and he was stiff as he lay down, gripping his mother’s hand. He looked so lost that it tugged something deep inside Melantha’s chest. In that moment, she did not want to be a screaming warrior. She wanted to be kind. Compassionate. Soothing. Right now, she was all that was standing between this boy and a life of struggle in a warrior kingdom that prized physical strength above anything else.

“Do not worry. It will not hurt. When you wake up, you will be all better.” Melantha called on her magic, a green glow surrounding her fingers, before she gently placed her hand on the boy’s forehead.

His eyes flickered closed, and he was asleep within heartbeats.

The mother gasped, shoved Melantha hard in the shoulder, and gathered her boy to her. “What did you do, elf witch?”

Melantha stumbled back, caught off guard by the reaction. “I just—”

Vriska remained in the corner, not moving. Not stepping in between the troll woman and Melantha even though she was supposed to be guarding her.

Rharreth shoved the curtain aside, giving Melantha a brief glimpse of Zavni and Nirveeth restraining the troll boy’s father. Rharreth circled the table in heartbeats, wrapping his left arm around Melantha’s shoulder. It was a protective gesture, yet not as threatening as pushing her behind him would have been. When Rharreth spoke, his voice was level and his gaze was focused on the troll woman. “What is the problem?”

“She did something to my son! He won’t wake up!” The woman hugged her son tighter, giving him a slight shake. Tears were welling in her eyes even as she glared at Melantha.

Rharreth glanced down at Melantha. “Would you like to explain, my queen?”

The emphasis he placed on the wordsmy queenheld a level of trust. As if he had complete confidence that she had not harmed the boy.

How could he be so sure? After what she had done to her own brother, would he not doubt her? Especially since she was an elf.

But he was trusting her with his people. More than that, he was placing his own reputation as king in her hands.

Melantha drew in a deep breath and faced the shaking troll woman as calmly as she could. “I merely sent him to sleep. He will wake up in half an hour. To heal his arm, I will need to re-break the bone, and it is common practice in Tarenhiel to put the patient to sleep before such a procedure. I am sorry that I did not think to warn you or explain first.”

The troll woman stopped shaking, but she still hugged her son tightly to her and did not appear ready to set him back on the table.

Melantha met the woman’s gaze. “I promise you, I will not harm him. As an elf healer, I have taken an oath that I will not cause harm with my magic. That oath is binding, so binding that my own magic would likely kill me if I broke the oath.”

The troll woman stilled, as if thinking that over. But she still did not release her son or step closer to the table.

Melantha stepped out of Rharreth’s grip, thankful that he had remained silent and was letting her stand up for herself. She gestured at Rharreth. “If I could have harmed with my magic, do you not think I would have done it when I was held in the dungeons of Gror Grar by Rharreth and his brother, the late troll king? But, as you can see, Rharreth is standing before you unharmed.”

The troll woman’s gaze finally turned speculative. She glanced from Melantha to her son, something in her expression twisting.

It must be hard, trusting a former enemy with her son’s future and life. Melantha tried to put as much compassion as she could manage into her voice. “If you do not wish for me to heal him, I will wake him before you leave.”

The troll woman drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then she eased her sleeping son onto the table. She kept her grip on her son’s good hand. “Please heal him.”

Melantha stepped closer to the table, calling on her magic again. “Very well. Like I said, I will have to break his bone again so that I can heal it properly. Please do not be alarmed if you hear the bone snapping.”