Chapter Nineteen

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

I spent that night and into the early morning repairing broken bones, knitting severed arteries together again, and killing infections before they could do much damage. Lundir’s loss weighed heavily on me. He might still be alive had I simply engaged the enemy rather than freezing like I had. What had possessed me? I knew that man wasn’t my brother, even as I had looked into eyes so like his. I was angry with myself, and I was angry at this so-called gift. It was a good thing I was desperately needed here or I might have let despair take me, only to be found pining away in my rooms in the keep. Several of the men I’d treated were enemy soldiers, but the Healer-call would not allow me to walk away from them.

As I had knelt beside one such an hour before dawn began to lighten the sky in the east, a nearby Raldian medic called out to me, then joined me at my side.

“My Lady?” he said cautiously, kneeling beside me and holding his lantern up to clearly illuminate the man’s plain yellow tabard. “This is not our own.”

I glanced up at him briefly as I put my hands on the injured man, again on his head and heart. It seemed the two places my hands were now guided to every time.

“I don’t have much choice, Baltasar. This… whatever it is…” I nodded at the green light pulsing through my fingers, “it’s rather persistent. I cannot simply walk by anyone who is injured. It becomes… painful.”

“But, my Lady. That could be considered treason.”

I glared at him; he watched wide-eyed as the green cascaded down my forearms again.

“Treason to whom?” I snapped tiredly. “We are no longer part of Rowhede. Raldia no longer belongs to anyone but me and the people, which I suppose makes me a Queen,” I mused almost to myself, “though I don’t plan on claiming that title. One cannot very well be treasonous to oneself.”

“Aye, my Lady,” he stood to go, scowling. “As you wish.”

“Baltasar,” I said softly, stopping him before he turned away. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to snap at you. But you must understand. It is a Healer’s, as well as a medic's, duty to help anyone in need.” He nodded. The man under my hands moaned. “I’ll bind him. I’d like you to take him back to the captain as a prisoner.”

The small medic looked scared. “My Lady, I am not strong enough to handle a prisoner,” he protested.

“I will send one of the wolves with you. He will protect you and keep the prisoner in line.”

One of Samae’s young stepped forward toward the medic. Though the litter was only four months old, all but the female already stood at least two inches over their mother. Their bodies, though lean and bony with youth, were well muscled.

The medic gulped. “As you wish, my Lady.”

I looked back down at the patient, just in time to see his eyes open. He moaned again. A pair of ice blue eyes stared back at me. Scared, helpless. That same animalian fear I’d seen in my assassin’s eyes before I’d recognized him. Mind-controlled. I gasped.

“My Lady, what is it?” Baltasar asked, stepping toward me, concern tingeing his voice. “Are you hurt?”

I stared back at the soldier’s face for a moment before Baltasar’s worry penetrated my thoughts. “No, Baltasar. Never mind, I’ll escort the prisoner back myself. I need to speak with the captain anyway. Please continue your duties.” He bowed and turned to go. “And Baltasar,” he stopped and looked back over his shoulder, “have as many of the injured brought back to the encampment as possible, where I can treat them. Including the enemies, whom you can bind. We can at least hold them prisoner.” He hesitated, then nodded and trotted off.

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