The cold anger in Ashk’s voice didn’t chill Aiden as much as what he saw in Rhyann’s woodland eyes before she turned to look at Ashk.

“One of the wiccanfae did this?” Rhyann asked softly.

“I doubt Lucian wants to think of himself as wiccanfae,” Ashk said.

“It doesn’t matter what he wants to think. What matters is what he is,” Rhyann replied sharply. She looked toward the stream. “Sweet, flowing water. Come with me.” She rose, gripped Aiden’s arm, and pulled him to his feet.

With Ashk, Sheridan, Morphia, and a silently weeping Lyrra trailing behind them, she led Aiden to the stream. She took off her boots and stockings, waded into the stream, and knelt down facing the bank.

“Kneel there.” She pointed to the bank in front of her.

Ashk and Sheridan held his arms to support him as he sank to his knees.

Rhyann grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands into the water. She closed her eyes, and said, “Fire, release your hold on the earth of flesh and bone. Give your heat to the water that flows free. Water, seep up from the banks of skin and join with the water that flows from the Mother. Earth, give your strength to flesh and bone to mend what has been harmed. As I will, so mote it be.”

Aiden felt power gather around him. Heat poured out of his palms, constantly washed away by the stream’s current until there was no more heat. He felt sweat bead on his skin, rising up and flowing away. He felt a different kind of warmth flow into his hands, traveling slowly from his wrists, where Rhyann held him, all the way to his fingertips. When that warmth faded, the power faded with it.

Rhyann lifted his hands out of the stream. “Can you move your fingers?”

Aiden stared at his hands. Normal hands. Even the blisters were gone, healed. He cautiously curled his fingers until he made loose fists. His hands felt tight, tender. He would have to work them slowly to regain the dexterity he needed to play the harp. But he would play again. He was certain of that.

Tears filled his eyes as he uncurled his hands. “Thank you.”

Rhyann smiled at him, then accepted Sheridan’s help out of the stream. After picking up her boots and stockings, she followed Sheridan and Morphia back to the camp.

Aiden felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked at Ashk, surprised as much by the tears in her eyes as by the delighted smile.

“I’ll play again,” he said, his voice rough.

“That you will, Bard. That you will.” Ashk kissed his cheek and helped him stand.

When he turned toward the camp, he saw Lyrra standing there. He took a step toward her. She ran into his arms.