“I need to go back.”
His hand settled over mine before I could throw the blanket aside.
“You think if you stand watch long enough, death must ask your leave before entering.”
The words found something inside me with such precision that for a moment I couldn’t breathe.
“You don’t understand.”
The instant I said it, I knew I was wrong.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “I do understand.”
Aelfwyn. Her name sat between us without being spoken.
“I should’ve noticed Gilda was getting worse.”
“You are not her healer.”
“I saw the wound.”
“So did everyone.”
“I should’ve checked her sooner.”
“You were moving a hundred people through fire.” He ran a hand through his hair, the leather tie gone. The blonde was mixed with gold and honey, down to his shoulders and thick enough to make women envious.
“People die when someone misses something,” I said, thinking of Brian’s radio going silent, the warehouse roof coming down, and the report saying there had been no way to reach him in time.
No mistake and no one to blame. No single moment I could go back and change. I hated that most of all.
Wulfric didn’t tell me everything happened for a reason, or that I had done my best, or that grief would someday make me stronger, because both of us knew how useless words became when someone you cared for was dead. He simply sat beside me, his hand still covering mine.
Two people who knew that sometimes you could do everything right and still lose. His thumb moved once across the back of my hand.
When I woke, gray morning light seeped through the shelter entrance, thin and cold, and for one awful second I didn’t know why my heart was racing, then I remembered.
Gilda.
I was on my feet before the blanket hit the ground.
The camp blurred around me as I ran, wet leaves slipping beneath my boots while voices rose behind me. Wulfric followed, though I didn’t look back.
I reached the sick shelter and nearly collided with Eadgyth, who stood beside the entrance holding a cup.
“What’s happened?”
The healer frowned and took a drink of ale.
“Must you always arrive as though the Normans are chasing you?”
At the look on my face, she moved aside.
Gilda’s eyes were closed, but the terrible flush had faded from her face.
I touched her forehead and my throat tightened when it was cooler than it had been.
Gilda opened one eye.
