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Amond said nothing more despite surely seeing the questions in her eyes. Then, he plunged the light into her shoulder. She stiffened in shock and confusion, but it didn’t… hurt. It didn’t feel like anything really. The whole thing was just disconcerting. If she concentrated, she could feel a slow trickle of the glowy ball moving around inside her shoulder… almost like a bug under her skin. It made her shudder in revulsion. But Amond only looked at her shoulder a few minutes before removing the light. Immediately, she felt… empty. Her entire body sagging.
“What the gods?” she said.
But he was already back to work, running the glow across her cut, into her skull—which, gross—and then even to her ankle. Each time the glow went through her, she felt like bugs were crawling around inside her, and she wanted to escape, she wanted out, but as soon as it was gone, she felt like a loch addict, craving more.
Within minutes, he was done. Minutes.
She couldn’t fathom it. A healing of this magnitude usually took at least an hour. The magic worked with her natural healing elements and stitched everything back together. And even so, she was usually drained and exhausted after it. As if it had taken just as much from her as it had from someone else. The herbal remedies that Darby was proficient at were usually better for anything less problematic, as they didn’t exact a price.
“How do you feel?” Amond asked, releasing the blue light as if it had never been.
She slowly shifted into a sitting position and experimentally rolled her shoulder. It felt good. No, better than good. No more pain, no exhaustion, no protrusion on her head. And, yes, even her ankle felt good as new.
“What did you do to me?” she gasped.
“I healed you. You look much better.”
“Yes, but how?”
Amond smiled faintly and then rose to his feet. “I don’t believe that you’re ready for answers yet, Kerrigan Argon.”
She startled at her given name. No one used it. Hardly anyone even knew it.
“How…”
“The healing sometimes is a connection,” he admitted. “Do not fear. It is against the healer’s code to divulge information.”
Gods, what had he seen?
Fear must have shown in her eyes because he tentatively reached out and touched her hand. “Not even to Dozan.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“No… many only see what is right in front of them.”
“Why do you work for Dozan when you have these abilities?”
“Instead of the mountain?” he asked with no accusation.
She nodded.
“Not all knowledge is equal. Especially not knowledge that disrupts the balance of our society and what is most commonly accepted.”
He looked at her purposefully. He knew about her visions. She should have been terrified, but somehow, she wasn’t. She trusted that Amond could keep the secret, that it was part of his code. She didn’t know if it was because he had just healed her or if it was because he kept his own healing secrets hidden. But she understood perfectly what he was trying to impart to her. Her visions would not be a welcome new knowledge inside the mountain. That much she was well aware of.
25
The Knife
She wanted to ask Amond more questions, but Dozan appeared then and dismissed him as if he hadn’t just done the most miraculous thing she had ever seen.
“Where did you find him?” she asked Dozan.
“Amond?” he asked as if he didn’t know. “Around. As I find most of the strays.” He stepped into her until there were mere inches between them. He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Like you.”
She stepped back. “Don’t.”
Anger flared in his dark irises. “You come to me in your time of need. Always to me. And still, you deny what is right in front of your eyes.”
“I don’t deny anything,” she quipped. “I just see what you really are.”
“And what is that, Ker?”
She grimaced at the nickname. Anyone else could say it, and it hardly bothered her, but she remembered him whispering it over her skin and breathing it into her ear as he held her naked against him. She remembered giving in to this once before and how much of a terribly bad idea it had been.
“Shall I recount our history?” she asked him.
“Allow me,” he said, circling her like a hawk. “Five years ago, I saved your live. I brought you here as the broken prince of the Wastes and healed you. Though I’d had no reason to do so. You fell in love with me.”
She winced at the bald statement.
“It wasn’t love,” she growled.
“Fine. Then, you were obsessed with me. What was I to do with a twelve-year-old’s obsession? Nothing. I was sixteen. You were just a kid. So, I sent you away. I sent you back to the mountain.”
“Where I belonged,” she cut in again. “Then, you murdered your family and took over!”
