He knew she was riding extra miles so that he wouldn’t have to, doubling back to join them after delivering Padrick’s letter instead of going on to reach the next Old Place. She hadn’t suggested that he remain at a Clan house until he healed, and he was grateful for that. But if he slowed her down too much, she would never reach Willowsbrook by the full moon.

Sheridan studied Aiden’s hands and frowned. “The bandages do look tighter than they did this morning. Can you ride on a bit further, Aiden? Some of the men have scouted up ahead. There’s a good stream and pasture for the horses. We can set up camp there.”

“I can ride awhile longer,” Aiden said.

Sheridan and Morphia rode back to the head of the line. Huntsmen reined in to let Lyrra and Aiden slip into the line.

Aiden slumped in the saddle, his hands crossed over his chest. He couldn’t even rest them lightly on the saddle for balance as he’d done that morning.

He wasn’t sure how long they continued to ride. He’d begun worrying about his harp, carefully secured to one of the pack-horses. He craved the feel of it as a thirsty man craved water. Would his fingers ever dance over the strings again? That morning, his hands hadn’t looked that bad. The skin was red and more blisters had formed, but they hadn’t looked bad. Lyrra had been so relieved by the healer’s brisk assurance that he would be fine in a few days that he hadn’t told her the look of his hands was a lie. He knew Lucian’s fire had damaged him under the skin. He could feel it. And now his hands seemed to be straining against the confinement of the gauze bandages.

Finally they reached the place where Sheridan had decided to set up camp. After praising Minstrel for keeping him safe in the saddle, Aiden stood out of the way, pushing aside impatience while the others took care of the necessary chores.

He was ready to use his teeth on the bandages’ knots when Ashk and her escorts rode into camp. Seeing her so grim and exhausted shamed him into patience. Her brusque “Later” when Sheridan asked if there was news warned everyone that whatever Ashk had to tell them wasn’t good.

“Now, then,” Lyrra said with a brisk cheerfulness that struck Aiden as being off-key, “let’s unwrap the bandages and let your hands breathe for a bit.”

He tried not to flinch as she tugged at the knots. He tried not to see the worry in her eyes as she realized how large his hands looked. And he tried to deny the stab of fear when she got the bandages off his left hand—and she screamed.