Well, she could if she understood how it worked, but she didn’t. She had always healed quickly since becoming a Knight of the Word, the process enhanced and quickened by her magic, by her being who and what she was. There was no mystery to it. It was necessary that she heal swiftly if she was to survive. It was required of those who were constantly in danger.

Or all Knights of the Word.

She wondered how badly you had to be damaged before even the magic couldn’t save you. She thought she had reached that point on the slopes of Syrring Rise, that the combination of blood loss and cold was enough to finish her. She had crawled through inky darkness and howling wind in search of a cavern entrance she could not see, and she was certain she was going to die. She had come close, she thought. She had come as close as she could without crossing over.

But here she was, still alive, her wounds healed, her strength mostly back. A miracle. There was movement in the cottage, and Larkin Quill stepped onto the porch beside her, his milky gaze fixed and unresponsive, but his smile warm.

“You seem much better,” he said.

How he could tell she would never know. She was constantly amazed at how he was able to discern so much of what would normally require sight. He was better at it than she was, she believed. He had that gift or skill or whatever it was that enabled him to sort things out with his other senses. She had seen him do it over and over since she had arrived, in small but no less incredible ways.

“I am better,” she agreed. “Thanks to you.”

His lean, sharp features crinkled with the appearance of his self-deprecating smile. “I supplied the small kindnesses and little medicines, but mostly you did this yourself. You and your magic, Mistress Knight of the Word.”

She shrugged. “Some of each played a part, I imagine. What matters is that I am better.”

“Indeed. Now we need to think about getting on with things. It’s been a week, and Sim and Kirisin aren’t back. I don’t know if that means anything, but we should assume the worst for purposes of your own situation. What do you want to do?”

Angel didn’t hesitate. “Go after them.”

“Go after them?” Larkin shook his head. “No, that’s a bad idea. You aren’t strong enough for that yet. Even if you think so, you aren’t. You’d have to go afoot. It’s a long way to another balloon, even if you could get there, and neither you nor I can fly it.” He smiled. “We have to be patient, Angel. We have to wait on them.”

“What if waiting on them is not what’s needed?”

He shrugged. “Give me your second choice. What else would you do with yourself while waiting?”