“No. He’s legit. I’m not sure Healer Avry’s still here, but I’ll relay your message.”
“Thank you.”
The men continued on to HQ. Unable to keep still, Kerrick walked in circles. He didn’t need to remain in that exact location because as soon as Ryne or Avry entered the forest he’d know in a heartbeat.
Hours later, or so it felt, Ryne arrived. Not in the direction Kerrick’d been expecting, but from the opposite way. His life force popped up from seemingly nowhere. Strange. The prince had at least a dozen bodyguards with him. Considering he thought Kerrick was dead, he guessed he shouldn’t be insulted by the soldiers.
One person was missing. Avry. Worry flared.
When Ryne approached, Kerrick drew power to appear normal and then made noise before stepping out from the bushes. Tense bodies and expressions relaxed.
Ryne grinned and rushed him, grabbing him in a tight hug before pushing him away. “You bastard, where have you been?”
“Long story.”
“And why couldn’t you come inside?”
“Even longer story. I’ll tell you all about it, but first, where’s Avry?”
“She’s at the new infirmary site down near Grzebien.”
Disappointment stabbed deep.
“She’s going to be ecstatic.”
“I need to catch up to her.”
“Not until you explain what you’ve been up to.”
Every fiber of Kerrick’s being wanted to bolt. To leave Ryne without an explanation. The desire to catch up with Avry pulsed with each heartbeat. And despite Ryne’s entourage of guards, it’d be so easy to disappear.
CHAPTER 7
My heart skipped a few dozen beats. Did Flea just... “The plague? Are you sure?”
“At first, I thought he had an upset stomach. He couldn’t keep anything down, but now he has flu-like symptoms—aches, pains, fever, and that unmistakable oily sweat with the sugary rotten smell.” Flea’s nose crinkled.
Classic stage-two symptoms. Oh, no. “Is anyone else showing signs of the plague?”
“No, but I moved him so he doesn’t get anyone else sick.”
A good idea. “Where is he?”
“In the back, I’ll show you.” Flea grabbed a lantern and led me deeper into the cave system. “I thought everyone who survived was immune to the plague.”
“They are, but not every single person in the Fifteen Realms has been exposed to the disease. Ryne managed to go a number of years before getting sick.” When Tohon had sent an assassin to infect him. Except Ryne’s sister had been among the first wave of people to die from the plague. They’d been in Pomyt on a diplomatic mission. Why would he survive only to sicken later? And why hadn’t I thought of this before?
“In here.” Flea held up the light.
The soft yellow glow illuminated a tiny cavern. Lying on a cot in the center, a young man tossed and turned. He had kicked his blankets off. A sheen of sweat coated his face. As I approached him, my magic stirred from deep inside, signaling a familiar warning. I didn’t even need to examine him. He had the plague.
Fear pulsed as I remembered what I’d read about the spread of the plague. Not airborne. “Flea, did you touch him?”
“Of course. I helped him in here.” He peered at me in confusion.
“Did you have skin contact? Did some of his oily sweat rub off on your skin?”
“Yeah, I did my death touch on him because he wasn’t getting any better.” He paled. “Am I going to get the plague, too?”
“How do you feel?”
“Queasy.” He sank to the ground.
Which could just be the power of suggestion. I crouched next to him and pressed my fingers to the back of his hand. A recognizable vanilla-scented coolness pumped through him.
“Am I going to die?” His voice squeaked.
“No.”
He sagged against the cave’s wall. “Thank the creator!”
“You’ve been hanging out with Estrid’s soldiers too long.”
“Who should I thank, then?”
“The Peace Lilys. Their serum flows in your blood, protecting you.”
“Wow. That’s some powerful stuff.”
I agreed. It had saved mine and Flea’s life. Tohon used the serum to animate the dead. The serum and his life magic—I still hadn’t figured how the combination worked. As soon as I’d learned Death Lily toxin would eliminate his dead soldiers, I’d stopped thinking about it. Too much else going on.
“Did the patient encounter the enemy before he sickened?” I asked Flea.
“Yes. Private Yuri said his squad was ambushed. He was knocked out and when he woke he was alone. He had a cut on his neck, but was otherwise unharmed.”
Interesting. “Has the rest of his squad reported in?”
“No. They’re considered missing in action.”
Not good. As I stared at the sick patient, my thoughts returned to the puzzle of the Lilys. If this man died, his body would probably be rejected by the Peace Lilys because he had no magic. The Lilys only saved those with magic or the potential to wield it. There was a slim chance the patient had potential. If we brought his body to the Lily fast enough, it might work. But why wait until he died? We could transport him now. Except only Flea and I could be near him. I wouldn’t risk anyone else.
What if I brought the Peace Lily serum to him? It might accelerate his death like it had with me. He was going to die regardless. But it might work. It was worth a try.
Excited, I straightened. “No one else cares for this patient or even comes near him. Just us. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You need to scrub your hands with soap and water before you leave this cavern every single time. Have you touched anyone else since checking him?”
Flea stood. “I don’t think so. I moved him this afternoon, and then you came.”
A bit of good news. “Stay here with him tonight. I’ll bring back a dose of fever powder to make him more comfortable before I leave.”
“Leave? Where are you going?”
“To find a Peace Lily.”
* * *
I debated between speed and safety. The man had a few more days until he experienced stage-three symptoms, and the monkeys would never forgive me if I left without them. Safety won. I fetched the fever powder, soap, and a water bucket for Flea before finding my friends. Despite the late hour, Loren and Quain hadn’t gone to sleep. They waited for me by the hearth.
“What’s going on?” Quain demanded.
“Is Flea all right?” Loren asked.
“He’s fine. There’s a very sick patient that needs care,” I said.
“So why all the secrecy?” Quain asked.
I lowered my voice. “He has the plague.”
“Flea!”
“Shh, Quain. Not Flea. The patient.”
Loren wilted and rubbed his face. “Not this again.”
“Not if I can