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“I didn’t realize your skills extended to healing.”
“You can’t be serious. What of the half-emrys in your homeland?” I wanted to grab Caedryn and shake him and yell, “Are you out of your mind?”
“Not many of them are healers. Very few are.”
“What are they, then?”
He stared straight ahead as he trudged. “Barbaric murderers.”
“And you?” I simply couldn’t understand how a realm full of half-emrys weren’t healers. They possessed light. Why not use it? Was life backward outside Gorlassar?
“A scholar.”
That explained three libraries of books.
I told Caedryn about the people I’d healed since I’d left Gorlassar.
“I’m astonished,” he said. “Truly. How did you learn your craft?”
“We’re required to take a basic healing course when we go to the university.”
“University?” Caedryn shook his head, loosening the snowflakes that flecked it. “I’ve been deprived my entire life. I’ve never been to a university. Everything I’ve learned was from books that I managed to get my hands on. And you took only a basic class?”
“Yes. I specialized in combat. My dearest friend continued her healing courses. She’s the midwife I learned that delivery technique from.”
We reached the keep’s entrance. Caedryn and I shook the snow from our cloaks under the overhang before entering.
“I’m in your debt, Niawen. Had you not come along, I don’t think the babe would have survived.”
“Remember, I’m a warrior, not a healer.”
“We all think we’re something until life chooses a different path for us.”
“Just don’t let your pride get in the way of those you can help,” I said.
“As you wish. I humbly beg your pardon.”
I shook my head, annoyed. “Good night.” I left him in the hall, alone.
FORTY-FOUR
“Niawen, I want to show you something.” Caedryn entered the library with a smile on his face. “I’ve thought about our earlier conversation. With you moaning around, stuck indoors by the snow, and with Seren gone, I thought you needed purpose.”
I didn’t tear my eyes away from the window. Six inches of snow. Six days, Seren had been gone. Six books I’d read on commerce, shipping, gardening, and politics. And one scandalous novel about a milkmaid falling in love with a bastard prince. Caedryn caught me reading it and plucked it out of my hands.
“I shouldn’t have shelved this in my library. My reading choices are abhorrent,” he said.
I wrestled the book out of his hands, determined to finish it. Caedryn enjoyed the scuffle but relented and watched me color while I turned the pages. The story was filthy and torrid. No book had ever been written in Gorlassar like this one.
That was the day before.
Today I was bored. Today I tried not to think of the night on the ledge when Caedryn found me. He never mentioned it. He even kept his snide remarks to himself, having cooled toward me.
I was somewhat relieved. But I hadn’t exactly cooled toward him, and I think he knew that.
“Come now, Niawen.” Caedryn minced across the room and peered into my face, hopeful. His brown eyes were earnest.
“Oh, all right. I hate to be a sour guest.”
