Hannah spoke up. “And you will need more than a brew for fever to make certain you suffer no ill effects from the creature.”
“Aye, Hannah is right. So, here you will stay until we say otherwise,” Arella ordered.
“How could I refuse such a charming invitation?” he said with a slight smile.
“At least you’re a wise warrior,” Arella said, her brow puckering as she kept a steady gaze on him. “Are you a mercenary by chance? Though you have no scars, the way you didn’t flinch when I stitched you tells me you are no stranger to stitches. I know not what brings a mercenary to this area and I do not want to know. But Willowmere is a peaceful village?—”
“I am no mercenary and I bring you no harm,” he said with a firmness that silenced Arella.
Hannah approached him then, holding a small cup. “This will help with anything the animal’s bite may have left behind. Later, you will need one to ward off fever.”
He took it without question, drinking it down in one steady motion before handing the cup back.
“You trust easily,” Bria said before she could stop herself.
His gaze returned to her, sharper now. “Healers heal. They do not harm.”
Bria drew a slow breath, aware once more of the faint tension that lingered in her touch. She began to withdraw her hands.
The moment her fingers left him—the absence struck her, subtle but there. As though something had been there that no longer was.
She stepped back, folding her hands lightly before her to still the slight tremble. “You should rest. A bed would serve you better than a bench.”
“I will rest when I must,” he said.
“Stubbornness does not aid healing,” Bria cautioned.
A faint flicker of something crossed his expression, amusement, perhaps.
“And yet I have lived by it,” he said.
She was tempted to shake her head at him but didn’t. “That does not mean you should continue to do so.”
For the briefest moment, something eased between them, and then it was gone.
He shifted slightly, testing the movement of his shoulder before settling once more.
“And you, healer,” he said, his voice quieter now, more intent. “You spoke of Willowmere… of the sea… of what lies beyond.”
Bria felt the change before the question came and how the air seemed to still just slightly.
“Tell me,” he said, “how far is Willowmere from Driochmor?”
Chapter Three
The Healing Cottage at Willowmere
Where Wounds Are Mended and Lives Are Saved
Silence settled in the cottage. Not the gentle quiet familiar to Bria, but a heavy silence that made even the smallest noise sound like thunder. The hearth snapped, a sharp crack of burning wood breaking through it, followed by an unexpected clatter.
Hannah’s wooden spoon struck the floor, sounding like a clap of thunder. She made no move to retrieve it.
A moment later, Arella spoke, her voice firm. “No one goes to Driochmor. Not by choice nor by chance, and not without defying the order of King Dravic.”
The words seemed to settle just as heavily as the silence had.
Bria felt them, though her gaze remained on the man, as did Hannah’s.
