Mehtap’s face lights up. “Father would like to see you.” With a quick glance over her shoulder to see if I’m coming, she runs for the stairs. I follow more slowly, trying to quiet my sudden nerves. Here in the heart of Ampara, it’s all too easy to remember that Arxa is one of the best commanders in the Amparan army. He is intelligent, observant, and ruthless. Who am I to think I can deceive him?

The commander and four of his soldiers are waiting in the sitting room when I arrive at the top of the stairs. He must not be on duty, because he wears ankle-length court robes. His coloring is much healthier than when I last saw him, and he stands as if he’s regained his strength. His umbermarks are as clear as ever and give him a fierce appearance. I try to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. I thought I’d been careful about wearing gloves and washing myself as I treated him. Where did I go wrong?

“Father!” Mehtap runs into his arms.

Arxa embraces his daughter and squeezes her tight. It’s a show of affection I wouldn’t have thought him capable of, given what I’d seen in Dara. Then he turns his attention to me. “Zivah. I am pleased you decided to come.”

My heart pounds in my ears as I navigate the last few stairs. A panicked certainty arises that his gaze will lay my secrets bare.

“I am grateful for your invitation, Commander.” My voice quavers, and I hope he’ll ascribe it to the stresses of travel.

He studies me, and I know he’s looking at the telltale marks of the disease. I oblige him by pulling my sleeve, revealing the skin there as well.

“I’m sorry to see you like this,” Arxa says. He doesn’t show much emotion, but I do believe he is sincere.

“It is the burden of a healer,” I tell him. “I won’t say I’m happy to be in this state, but it is a risk we take every time we see a patient.”

“Just as my soldiers face death on the battlefield every day. Perhaps our paths are more similar than we think. Indeed, your talents would have been wasted if you’d stayed isolated in your village. A soldier must fight. A healer must heal. You can still do good, for the years you have left.”

It feels strange that I should agree with him, though I am no longer sure what kind of good works I’m meant to do. But a calmness has settled on me now, and I pull it over myself like a mask.

“Thank you, Commander. I hope to serve as I can.”