No, thank you. I formed a picture of Kerrick in my mind. Seen him?

A flood of images hit me. Kerrick running through the woods, hunting, walking with Belen, Flea, and the monkeys, holding me in his lap, blending into the woods, using his magic. They tumbled one right after the other, threatening to drown me.

Stop, please! I concentrated on how he’d looked that night without his shirt, feeling sick. Did he come here?

He stopped. Sorrow flowed.

Stopped where? If I could just find his body, I might—

Gone into the green.

Where?

A vision of the entire forest filled my mind. It was empty. However, I refused to believe it. The barbs pulled away and the Death Lily set me on the ground. I huddled there in utter misery for a moment, then gathered every bit of strength I had left.

I still had no proof. Gone in Death Lily speak could mean he left the forest or was in a cave. It didn’t have to mean he... No. Not going to go there. Not yet.

Quain and Loren hovered as close as they dared, their expressions hopeful.

“He didn’t come here,” I said, standing.

I glanced away. Bad enough to feel the grief burning inside me, I didn’t need to witness that same pain reflected in my friends’ eyes.

“What now?” Quain asked in a quiet voice.

“We go back to the infirmary cave. I’ve patients to check on.”

“And Kerrick?” Loren touched my shoulder.

“We keep searching.”

Taking another route back, we reached the cave after sunset. Ryne had arrived. He sat by the fire intently listening to Flea and Odd. I exchanged a glance with the monkeys.

“Did you send a messenger?” I asked Loren.

“Kerrick did when we returned from our...uh, encounter with Tohon and the others. Thought Ryne should know what happened, especially about Cellina’s takeover.”

It made sense. Prince Ryne led our ragtag army. He had the military savvy and strategic acumen to counter Tohon. However, he was the last person I wanted to see right now. His genius tactics had caused me quite a bit of pain and suffering over the past few months.

Before Ryne noticed me, I sent the monkeys over to the fire. “Talk to him.”

“What about you?” Quain asked.

“I need to check on my patients. It’s been—” my sluggish thoughts refused to add the hours “—too long.”

Concentrating on the injured soldiers, I moved from cot to cot, talking to the men and women. No new casualties had arrived since yesterday. The caregivers had done a fine job of keeping everyone comfortable and the bandages had all been changed. I consulted with the head caregiver, Ginger. Her capable and no-nonsense attitude was perfect for this type of work.

The floor wobbled under my feet, and I stumbled. I stared at the ground, trying and failing to understand how it had moved. Then the room spun. Ah. Exhaustion had finally caught up to me. “Wake me if you need me,” I said to Ginger.