“You should have died,” she told him in a low voice. “You shouldn’t have been able to summon that long. You’re as stubborn as your parents were.”

Now quiet blanked the healer’s cottage. The weak light of evening sun split the room in long, warm rays that crept through the shutters. Galen dozed on the other side of the room beneath a pale blanket. Aramis was tucked against Ranka’s side, her face troubled even in sleep. Poultice gleamed on her skin where the knives had cut her. Ranka’s stomach did a flip. They’d never been this close to each other. For all her sharp words, Aramis seemed softer in her sleep. More vulnerable. The princess murmured something and nestled closer, tucking her face into Ranka’s neck, and Ranka went rigid. Something fragile and warm fluttered to life in her chest.

And then someone snored in her ear.

On her left, Percy dozed, his jaw on Ranka’s shoulder. He was heavily bandaged like the rest of them, sleeping with his head tilted up, mouth wide open. And he was drooling on her.

Ranka might have shoved him off had her entire body not felt like she’d just been flung over a waterfall.

Had it not meant waking Aramis, too.

“You’re awake,” a voice said. With a jolt Ranka recognized her. It was Lanna, the healer she and Aramis had worked alongside. Her fingers were quick and light as she peeled back the bandages and smeared a grassy poultice over Ranka’s stomach. The burning ache didn’t leave, but it eased enough that Ranka no longer felt like she might collapse in on herself. Lanna squinted at her shoulder. “That’s some bite mark you’ve got there.”

Ranka turned her face away.

“How do you feel?”

Ranka’s voice emerged in a strangled croak. “Horrible.”

“Good. That means you’re alive.” Lanna brushed her knuckles along Aramis’s sweat-slicked cheek. Percy muttered something in his sleep and buried his face in Ranka’s hair. “I thought I’d lost you all when the guards nearly broke down my door.”

“Foldrey,” Ranka gasped. “We left him. Is he—”

“Shhh.” Lanna put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. “Calm yourself, little witch—oh, don’t look at me like that. I know exactly who you are.” Her mouth turned downward. “The guards are still searching.”

They’d find nothing. If Foldrey had survived long enough for the Hands to recover his body, he wouldn’t have survived the after. She didn’t know why it mattered so much. Foldrey served the twins, not her. He’d made it clear he didn’t trust her—but he had been kind, in his own way. He had tried to help her. He’d been a good man, doing his best to protect the ones he loved. She understood that more than anyone.