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Back The Ones We Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One: Skra: Sixty Days Remain
  5. PART ONE SKRA SIXTY DAYS REMAIN
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4 Two weeks later
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. Part Two: Monster: Twenty-Five Days Remain
  25. PART TWO MONSTER TWENTY-FIVE DAYS REMAIN
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Part Three: Butcher: Six Days Remain
  40. PART THREE BUTCHER SIX DAYS REMAIN
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. Part Four: Bloodwinn: Coup Successful
  64. PART FOUR BLOODWINN COUP SUCCESSFUL
  65. 54
  66. 55
  67. 56
  68. 57
  69. 58
  70. 59
  71. 60
  72. 61
  73. 62
  74. 63
  75. 64
  76. 65
  77. 66
  78. 67
  79. 68
  80. 69
  81. 70
  82. 71
  83. 72
  84. 73
  85. 74
  86. 75
  87. 76
  88. 77
  89. 78
  90. 79
  91. 80 EPILOGUE Three months later
  92. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  93. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“If you have a question for Lanna,” Aramis said tensely, “you can wait over there.”

Please, her eyes begged. Don’t ruin this for me.

“Miss,” a patient said, rising to move toward Aramis. “Apologies, but we’ve been waiting, and my son really needs someone to look at his wrist.” The boy in question held his hand against his chest, wrist bent at a terrible angle as he fought back tears.

“I’m sorry, I have two patients ahead of you, and Lanna’s busy with—”

“I can take him,” Ranka blurted.

Aramis whipped around to look at her.

“I trained in basic aid.” Her face burned. “We all do.”

It was mostly true. Knowing how to stitch a wound or set a broken leg could be the difference between your coven mate making it back to camp or not. It had always brought Ranka some comfort, knowing that despite everything, even her hands could be good for something besides hurting.

The other healer, Lanna, paused to glance back at Ranka. She was older, probably in her midforties, with bronze skin, gray-dusted hair, and dark, intelligent eyes. She glanced at Aramis with a raised eyebrow, smiling beneath her mask. “How helpful of you to bring an extra hand.”

Let me stay, Ranka willed. Let me help.

It was only because she wanted to find out what Aramis was up to. If there was one thing she knew about Aramis Sunra, it was that every action she took was calculated. Even if she was doing good here, she was playing a larger game.

And yet.

Take a girl, hand her a crown, and watch her become anyone. Behind a wall of silks and guards and gold, it was easy to change faces, to don and shed versions of herself with the nonchalance of a girl discarding a new dress.

But this girl, who stood in rough-spun healer’s robes, sweat flecked across her brow and someone else’s blood crusted on her sleeve, could be nothing but herself.

And this girl was someone Ranka wanted to know.

Aramis rolled her eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer. “There are spare robes in the back. Go get dressed.”

22

THE HOURS PASSED IN A blur.

Cut, clean, soothe. Ranka saw everything from minor scrapes to a leg that was little more than mangled flesh and snapped bone. She spoke only in orders: ready on three, don’t look, hold your breath. Anyone in need of medicine was passed to Aramis or Lanna, while Ranka handled basic care. The three of them quickly settled in a comforting rhythm—Aramis sewing closed wounds, Ranka setting bones and wrapping sprained wrists, Lanna administering herbs, medicine, and advice with the confidence earned from a lifetime of prescribing them.

It was strange how at home Ranka felt. These human bodies were far more fragile than hers, but their bones broke the same.