After my head cleared from the spinning, I noticed Kerrick’s skin and clothes matched the colors of the forest floor. Exactly. Even his hair. Magic tingled inside me as he drew it from the earth, using it to camouflage us. Kerrick must be an earth magician. Which explained so much—like how we avoided all the Lilys.
We lay there for what seemed like ages. Men’s boots pounded past us. Voices called and anger over the dead mercenary rippled through the forest. My senses expanded and I felt a connection with the living essence of the forest.
To the forest, the men were invaders, a blight on a healthy organism. It knew where each irritant was located. When the men moved farther away, Kerrick yanked me to my feet. He used the forest’s aversion to keep track of the mercs and escape the area without being seen, dragging me with him.
When we were far enough away, he broke the magical connection with me. I staggered with the shock of being cut off from the soothing green. He let me fall.
I regained my feet with the intention of running away, but Kerrick grabbed my wrist. By this time, his skin and hair had returned to normal.
I said, “Thanks for the help, but you’re not going to change my mind about Prince Ryne.”
“You’d rather be handed over to Tohon of Sogra?” he asked as if I lost my senses.
“No. I’d rather be left alone.”
“Not going to happen.” He tugged me along behind him like a disobedient child.
Digging in my heels would be useless so I gathered magic and sent a blast of pain into his hand on my wrist.
Instead of dropping my arm like a normal person would, he squeezed harder and pulled me toward him. More skin contact meant more pain for him. What the hell was he doing? I increased the intensity. He dropped to his knees, but kept his hold on me.
Damn it. I focused all my strength and directed it at him. He pitched over to his side, bringing me with him. Kerrick’s muscles convulsed with the pain, but he still wouldn’t let go.
I stopped when I had exhausted my energy. We lay locked together, panting as if we both had run for miles.
“Is that all you have?” His voice rasped. “Because you’re not going to get another chance.”
I ignored his comment. “Your earth magic must have protected you or else you’d be unconscious and drooling right now.” Except I suspected that wasn’t quite true.
“I’m not letting you go. Do you understand?”
Unfortunately, I did. “You can’t force me to heal him.”
“True. However, I can make you so miserable that you’ll be happy to heal him in order to get away from me.”
Fear swirled in my heart. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. Yet—”
“I did.” He stared at me a moment. “I’m sorry I hit you. I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you really think I’d risk getting my arm torn off? Belen never makes an idle threat. And neither do I.”
Kerrick kept an iron grip on my wrist, towing me at a fast pace. I jogged to keep up and was soon winded. My failed escape attempt had drained me.
Loren joined us when we neared the cave. He shot me a hard glare. “Any trouble?” he asked Kerrick.
“Mercs—at least a dozen. She walked right into them.”
If I had the energy, I would have protested.
Loren glanced behind us. “Did they follow you?”
“Not yet, but they’ll find our trail soon.” Kerrick pulled me through the entrance and flung me down by the fire. “Get your stuff packed.”
As I gathered my things, I noticed Quain’s glowers and Flea’s hurt-puppy pouts. Belen, though, smiled, and would have come over except Kerrick intercepted him.
“No helping her,” Kerrick said.
“But—”
“That’s an order, Belen.”
Belen stared at him. “It won’t work.”
Kerrick didn’t back down. “Not your decision.”
The air thickened as the tension emanated from them. I stood and slung my knapsack over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, Belen. I’ll be fine.”
My bravado sounded good. Even boosted my energy a bit. But after Kerrick clamped his hand around my sore wrist, and I endured another endless quick march through the forest, I began to wonder if I had been overly optimistic.
We stopped … sometime. It took me a few moments to realize we had indeed halted for the night in a tiny clearing. Kerrick only allowed me to eat half rations before manacling my hands behind a tree. The cold metal cuffs cut deep into my wrists. I leaned against the rough bark just happy to be sitting.
The men’s voices surrounded me as I drifted into and out of sleep.
“… get sick.” Belen’s soft concern.
“… can’t, she’s a healer.” Kerrick’s dismissive bark.
I opened my mouth to educate him—healers sickened like everyone else. We just recovered faster. And if the injury was severe enough or the disease too quick, we’d die. But I pressed my lips together. Let him figure it out for himself.
The next morning, Kerrick shook my shoulders.
“I’m awake,” I said when he didn’t stop.
He rested his hands on my shoulders and gazed at me. “Will you heal Prince Ryne?”
“No.”
Kerrick didn’t say a word. He unlocked the manacles. After I gulped a few mouthfuls of bread, he reclaimed my wrist. And once again my world blurred to a smear of orange, red and yellow as I struggled to keep up with him.
That night he confiscated my cloak before securing me to a tree. Curled up on my side with my arms bent uncomfortably around the trunk, I shivered.
Voices worried over the mercenaries drawing nearer. I would have felt bad about alerting the mercs if I had the energy.
The next morning, Kerrick shook me awake. “Will you heal Prince Ryne?”
“No.”
And that was my life for … I’d no idea. Wake, answer Kerrick’s question, eat, hike all day, eat, doze, shiver and repeat.
Funny how a person’s body could adapt to the harshest of circumstances. Eventually, I wasn’t as exhausted at the end of the day. I kept up without being half dragged. But each night grew a bit cooler, and my teeth chattered a bit harder.
On the sixth—seventh?—night, I huddled close to the small fire, sucking in as much warmth as I could before Kerrick pulled me away. Flea sat next to me. He wouldn’t meet my gaze and hadn’t since I’d attempted to escape.
“Flea,” I said.
He poked the fire, refusing to acknowledge me. I touched his arm. He yelped and jerked it away.
“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He huffed, stabbing a stick deep into the embers. Bright orange sparks flew up.
“I didn’t hurt you before,” I tried. The neck zap didn’t cause pain, just unconsciousness. “I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Flea said. The firelight illuminated his profile. A few