“Good.” He let out a wheezing breath. “That’s…good.”

Heart sinking, I lowered to my knees and placed the sword beside me. “You saved me.”

His eyes flicked to me, and he coughed out a bloody, weak laugh. “I don’t…think you…needed saving.”

“I did,” I told him, glancing at his stomach. Craven claws had caught him, digging in deep—too deep. His insides were no longer in. I hid my shudder as Hawke drew closer. “And you were there for me. You did save me, Airrick.”

Hawke knelt beside Phillips, his gaze meeting mine. He shook his head, not that I needed to be told. This wasn’t a survivable wound, and it had to be so painful. I didn’t need my gift to tell me that, but I opened my senses, shuddering at the raw agony pulsing through the connection.

Keeping my attention focused on Airrick, I picked up his hand and folded both of mine around it. I couldn’t save him, but I could do what I hadn’t been able to do with Vikter. I could help Airrick, and make this easier. It was forbidden and not exactly wise to do it when there were witnesses, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t sit here and do nothing when I knew I could help.

So, I thought of the beaches and how Hawke made me laugh, how he made me feel like I was living, and I pushed that warmth and happiness through the bond and into Airrick.

I knew the moment it hit the guard. The lines of his face relaxed, and his body stopped trembling.

He looked at me, his eyes wide. He looked so terribly young. “I don’t…hurt anymore.”

“You don’t?” I forced a smile as I kept the connection open, washing him in waves of light and warmth. I didn’t want even the slightest bit of pain to sneak through.

“No.” A look of awe settled in his expression. “I know I’m not, but I feel…I feel good.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

He stared at me, and I knew Phillips and Hawke were watching. I knew without even looking at them that they realized his sudden relief had nothing to do with the stages of death. No one with that kind of wound slipped away peacefully.

“I know you,” Airrick said, his chest rising heavily and then slowly settling. “Didn’t think…I should say anything, but we’ve met.” More blood leaked out of his mouth. “We played cards.”

Surprised, the smile became real. “Yes, we did. How did you know?”

“It’s…your eyes,” he told me. There were too many moments between when his chest settled and when it rose again. “You were losing.”

“I was.” I leaned down, keeping his pain at bay. “Normally, I’m better at cards. My brother taught me, but I kept being dealt bad hands.”

He laughed again, the sound even weaker. “Yeah…they were bad hands. Thank…” His gaze shifted to my shoulder. Whatever he saw was beyond me, beyond all of us. It was welcome. Airrick’s lips trembled as he smiled. “Momma?”

His chest didn’t settle. It rose, but it didn’t come back down. Airrick passed some seconds later, his lips still curved into a smile, his eyes now dull but glistening. I didn’t know if he saw his mother, saw anything, but I hoped he did. I wished for him that his mother had come for him and not the god, Rhain. It was nice to think that loved ones were there to greet those passing over. I wanted to believe that Vikter’s wife and their child had been waiting for him.

Slowly, I lowered his hand and placed it on his chest. I looked up then to find both Phillips and Hawke staring at me.

“You did something to him,” Hawke stated, his gaze searching mine.

I said nothing.

I didn’t need to. Phillips said it for me. “It’s true. The rumors. I heard it, but I didn’t believe it. Gods. You have the touch.”

Chapter 32

Our group rode hard, the pace aggressive and jarring, and we were three guards short of when we left Masadonia. A few hours later, we found Noah’s horse grazing, and once he was tethered to Luddie’s mount, we were on our way once more.

Having stopped just outside of Three Rivers for only a few hours to rest the horses, we traveled straight through the night. My heart was heavy, my legs numb and sore, and I was worried.

Phillips didn’t speak of what I’d done once the others joined us, but he kept stealing glances at me. Each time, he looked at me as if he weren’t sure I was real, reminding me of the glances the servants had sent my way whenever they saw me veiled.

It made me uncomfortable, but it was nothing like Hawke’s response to my gift.

He’d stared at me over Airrick’s body as if I were a puzzle missing all the edge pieces. Obviously, he was surprised, not that I could blame him. I’d figured he’d have questions. When we stopped outside of Three Rivers, I tried to speak to him about what I’d done, but all he did was shake his head. Just told me “later” and said to get some rest. I, of course, resisted, which ended with him either pretending to fall asleep beside me or actually going to sleep.

I didn’t know if he was mad or disturbed or…upset that I hadn’t told him, but I didn’t regret using my gift to ease Airrick’s passing. Hawke and I would talk, and later may come sooner than he wanted. But I managed to resist using my gift to determine how he felt. I’d rather him tell me than for me to cheat.

Because reading his emotions right now would feel like cheating.

By the time we reached New Haven, dusk was quickly upon us. We passed through the small Rise with little issue. Hawke dismounted and walked ahead to talk to one of the guards before swinging back up onto the horse behind me, leading the way through the cobblestone street.

Kieran had taken Airrick’s place, riding alongside us as we traveled through the sleepy town surrounded by a heavily wooded area. We passed shuttered businesses, closed for the evening, and then entered a residential area. The homes were as small as the ones in the Lower Ward but not nearly as stacked on top of one another. They were also in much better condition. The small trading town was obviously profitable, and the Royal who ruled over this city, apparently had a better grip on maintenance than the Teermans did.

It was about a block into the neighborhood when the door to the first house opened, and an older, brown-skinned man stepped out. He said nothing, simply nodded at Kieran and Hawke as we passed. Behind the man, a young boy ran out and to the house next door. He banged on the door, and shutters swung open. Ahead of us, Phillips’ hand moved to his sword as another young lad stuck his head out. “My papa is—” He broke off, eyes widening as he saw our little caravan. He whooped, and with a toothy grin, he disappeared back into the house, yelling for his father.