“How many?” Jonas asked.

  “I don’t know. Twenty?” Karlani said.

  “It can’t be known that I’m here.” Gaemil, stood. Grim. “If I get involved, there can be no Turhmos witnesses.”

  “There won’t be. There can’t.” Jonas pulled two knives from his vest and held them out to Karlani. “You with us?”

  She hesitated a moment, like she thought she had a choice, then she took the knives.

  “You’re gonna have to get in the middle of it. It’s the only place you’ll make a difference.”

  Lips pressed tight, Karlani nodded and headed back out the door.

  “We were meant to build defenses,” Llew muttered. “And have you fixed. We’re not ready.” But she stood, rested a hand on a knife handle. She was as ready as she would have to be. “We haven’t even—”

  “We’re ready,” Jonas assured her.

  Anya let slip a strange mix of a gasp and denial, and Jonas fixed his attention on her and Elka. “You two stay put. They won’t hurt you if you’re hunkered down in here.” Of course, such proclamations relied on the other side following the rules. It wasn’t a perfect reassurance, but it was all they had.

  Elka nodded solemnly. Anya’s usual must-do-something stress response had her eyes darting around, but she conceded, relaxing a little at having a clear instruction to follow.

  To Gaemil, Jonas said, “Keep to the rear. Let Llew, Karlani, Alvaro, Rowan, and your guards lead the fight. I’ll support where I can.” He grabbed his crutches.

  By the time he, Llew, and Gaemil stepped outside, Rowan, Alvaro and Gaemil’s guards had reached the house. Alvaro darted inside for his sword. Rowan had grabbed a rust peppered machete from a shed.

  The Turhmos riders gathering at the gate hesitated. Likely they had expected a weakened Jonas and Llew, maybe Rowan and Elka. Jonas couldn’t recall Braph’s cognitive connection in the presence of Karlani, and certainly not since Gaemil had arrived. These soldiers wouldn’t have expected a fight at all, never mind near even.

  As far as Jonas could see, the Turhmos soldiers carried only swords, ready for a close battle, which best suited their Aenuk soldiers, but he wondered how many, if any, Aenuks were in this rank. Surely, their numbers were too low to risk sending them out. Well, they would find out soon enough.

  He jumped down from the deck, catching most of his weight on his good leg and accepting the shooting pain up his missing shin as well as his still present thigh, steadied himself. Llew followed, and placed herself to the side and in front of him. Rowan flanked his other side. Karlani and Alvaro joined their posse, leaving Gaemil to command his guards at the rear.

  Jonas pulled a knife, hefted it in his hand, getting a sense of its weight. It was the same style and weight he’d been throwing for years, but it felt different in his unenhanced grip. Still, he reckoned he had the same eye he’d always had. He flipped the blade, caught it, flipped, and caught again, letting his subconscious do the necessaries to make each throw count.

  Their small posse edged forward, helping make Jonas’s throws more likely to count.

  The Turhmos soldiers kicked their horses forward.

  Jonas threw the knife. One of the front riders grunted, but it was only a glancing blow to an arm. Jonas drew another knife, same style, same weight, flung it. The front rider slumped in his saddle, slipped to the side. Other riders had to go around him, their confidence shaken some.

  “Go, go!” He nudged Karlani with his elbow. She complied, dashing forward, pulling a rider from his horse, and plunging a knife into him, and continuing onward to find her next victim. Untrained as a soldier, she’d practiced a few mock battles with Jonas at full strength. She knew enough to face these unprepared soldiers.

  Llew must’ve thought he meant the command for her as well, for she surged into the fray. Jonas clenched his teeth. She was Syaenuk, she would survive.

  Rowan and Alvaro followed the women, soon overtaking Llew, much to Jonas’s relief, but it didn’t keep her from the midst of the fight for long, and the opportunity for him to help from the fringes was soon lost, as comrades mingled with enemies. Gaemil’s soldiers joined in, while the earl had the sense to remain clear of the fight.

  Riderless horses loitered by the fences, skittish. Jonas lost sight of Llew. Alvaro was locked in a sword fight with one soldier. Karlani rushed past, administering a deadly blow. She did the same for Rowan’s opponent. And in what felt like mere moments, the fight was over. Silence fell.

  Rowan leaned over, gripping his knees, catching his breath. Karlani returned to Jonas, holding out her blood-smeared knives, disinterested in cleaning them herself. He took them and slid them into the vest, looking past her to measure the outcome and, yes, to check on Llew.

  Alvaro was walking back toward the house, casually swinging his sword. One of Gaemil’s guards lay on the ground, the others crowded around him. Going by the way he kept shifting in discomfort, he was injured, not dead.

  “Llew!” Anya ran from the house, past Jonas.

  He scanned the cartway, then finally found Llew’s dusty form, brown trousers, brown vest on the ocher sand. Apart from lying flat on her back, she appeared unharmed. Jonas narrowed his eyes, scanned her form, and the knife handle protruding from her chest. From her heart.

  “Anya?” Gaemil followed, but not in a hurry.

  “Anya, stop!” Jonas hobbled forward. Fatigue washed through him. He tried to push himself harder, faster, but his prosthetic foot landed wrong and he sprawled to the ground.

  Anya knelt beside Llew. “Llew, no!” she sobbed. She placed a hand on Llew’s shoulder.

  “Get the knife out of her …” Jonas was breathless, could barely project the words. “Don’t touch—” But his voice only came out as a weak huff.

  Anya took up one of Llew’s hands. Pressed it to her lips. Not good.

  “Tell Gaemil not to touch Llew’s skin,” Jonas said to Karlani.

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  She looked at him dumbly a moment before yelling, “Don’t touch the Aenuk!” and running closer to where Llew lay.

  “Help me up.” Jonas reached an arm out for Alvaro, but Alvaro was already following Karlani as the gathering about Llew grew. Luckily, whatever life survived on the cartway didn’t provide a direct connection between Llew and Jonas; he felt nothing to suggest he was losing jin to her.

  “She’s gripping me back. She’s alive!” Anya exclaimed.

  “Let her go,” Gaemil said.

  “Rowan!” Elka called to her brother from where she now stood beside Jonas.

  He jogged closer.

  “I— Ow! I can’t,” Anya was saying. “She won’t let go.”

  Jonas reached his arm out again and Rowan helped him stand, but Jonas was barely able to support his own weight. Rowan hooked Jonas’s arm across his shoulder, and Jonas supported his other side on the crutch.

  “Tell them to get the knife out of Llew,” Jonas said to Rowan, who relayed the message in a loud, clear voice.

  Gaemil had donned leather gloves and was trying to wrench Llew’s fingers from Anya. He shifted focus long enough to pull the knife free and toss it aside, then returned to his earlier task.

  “It’s the Aenuk reflex. You can’t break that hold. Only Karlani might.” Jonas looked to Karlani.

  Karlani screwed up her face. “I’m not touching a dead Aenuk.”

  Anya tried to peel Llew’s fingers back and let go an involuntary moan. “It stings. It’s burning,” she whimpered.

  “Do it!” Gaemil yelled at Karlani.

  “No.” Karlani folded her arms.

  Gaemil caught the eye of one of his guards, gave a nod. That guard approached Karlani. She watched him, unmoving until he stood right in front of her. Then she pulled her arm back and punched him. He was dead before his feet left the ground. His corpse flew back several yards, thumped, bounced once. Karlani glared around at everyone, daring someone to become her next victim.

  “You could stop this!” Jonas felt a flush of dizziness. He had no energy left to yell again, not if he wished to remain vertical.

  “The way Llew stopped Cassidy dying?” Alvaro folded his arms and adjusted his stance nearer Karlani, making it clear he supported her choice.

  “I am not risking my strength for her.” Karlani nodded down her nose at Llew. “You need me whole.”

  Jonas had nothing left to stand up to Karlani, and Gaemil’s remaining guards wouldn’t face her again. They only had one option left, if they acted fast enough.

  “Carry Llew to an Ajnai. No one else make skin contact.” Jonas lifted his arm from Rowan’s shoulders. “Go. Help them.”

  Rowan and one of the two uninjured guards took up Llew’s shoulders, while the other guard lifted her feet, and Gaemil assisted Anya to stand. She looked pale.

  “It’s okay,” Anya said, then whimpered, panted, and tried to subdue a moan. Jonas had had brushes with the Aenuk touch, knew how it burned; the worst time being when he had completed Llew’s healing back in Stelt. A dead Aenuk didn’t just burn at the point of contact, they drained from the entire body of their victim.

  “It’s not okay,” Gaemil snarled. “You will not die for her.”

  “It’s not Llew’s fault,” Anya said, and grimaced against the pain. She was trying to hold that in, even now trying to protect Llew from the guilt.

  The group made it a few steps before Llew gasped, her body convulsing, and they nearly dropped her. Her free arm flailed, swinging up near the face of the guard holding that shoulder.

  “Don’t let her touch you!” Jonas followed the group as fast as he could, but he was sluggish, his balance unsteady.

  Anya wailed and stumbled, pulling the whole group down.

  Gaemil recovered quickly, was up on his feet trying to lift Anya back to hers, yelling at the others to “Get up!” They were only a few paces from the nearest Ajnai.

  Disentangling themselves from Llew’s limp form, Rowan and the guards took their positions again, but Anya kept trying to slump to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Llew.” Tears trailed down Anya’s cheeks, but she didn’t seem to have the energy to put any emotion into her words. “You shouldn’t— It’s not your fault. It’s mine. My mistake. Please don’t let Llew feel bad for me.”

  “Come on, love. Not far, now.” Gaemil strained to lift her under her armpits, changed his grip to a hug, clutching her beneath her ribs, but her head hung limp. The men managed a pace. Then Llew’s arm dropped, her grip on Anya’s hand released.

  “Oh no,” Jonas muttered. Gritting his teeth once again, he maneuvered himself forwards.

  With the two women no longer linked, the men were able to move more swiftly, soon laying Llew at the base of the tree, Anya beside her. Futility.

  “Gaemil, you’ve got gloves. Hold Llew’s hand against the trunk.”

  Gaemil did so. “And then she can heal Anya, right?” Jonas said nothing. Gaemil looked up at him. “Right?”

  Jonas didn’t want to respond. Llew needed to heal, and she would be upset enough by what she would wake to. She didn’t need anyone adding to that, or sabotaging her. He looked past Gaemil to Rowan. Rowan nodded his understanding and flexed his bare fingers. He’d be at risk if he had to reposition Llew’s hand, but it was unlikely he’d get trapped. as Anya had, with the tree so close.

  “Right?” Gaemil repeated in a tone demanding response.

  Jonas returned Gaemil’s hard gaze with sorrow. “What’s been taken can’t be returned. She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

  Something caught his eye and he looked up to see Karlani staring at him, her mouth half open. It seemed she hadn’t expected things to go this far. All Jonas could do was clench his jaw on a desire to curse her out. He didn’t have the energy, and Anya deserved better.

  “No.” Gaemil took up Anya’s unburned hand. “Once she’s healed herself, Llew can heal Anya.”

  “You know that ain’t how it works.” Gaemil was the most well-read man on matters Karan or Aenuk Jonas had met outside of Quaver or Turhmos.

  “No, I don’t. These trees, they—”

  “It ain’t the trees that break the rules, Lord.” Jonas settled for formal in the face of the other man’s anger and distress.

  Fury, pain, and denial welled in Gaemil’s eyes, but he held it in and simply sat, clutching Anya’s hand.