Sulaiman would never admit it later, but he panicked when he realized that Priscilla’s wounds were much worse than her battle with the bandit leader implied with how easily she took him down. Fear gripped his heart that he was going to have to watch Priscilla die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  Priscilla was a horrible sight, her red hair splayed about her head like an uneven, bloody halo and blood was splattered across her face and stained her lips, dyeing them a more vivid red than usual. Her green eyes had just fluttered closed and the dark circles under her eyes seemed harsher in the moonlight. Each time she breathed, Sulaiman could hear how it rattled in her chest and how she struggled for air. Her left arm lay awkwardly at her side and there was a hole in her shirt at her shoulder, and blood sluggishly oozed out.

  “Healer!” Sulaiman yelled, sheathing his sword then dropping to his knees next to her, ignoring how it pulled at his own arrow wound. “We need a healer!”

  The only wound he could see was the one on her shoulder, but Priscilla was tackled hard and hit the ground harder, exacerbating the injuries she already had. With the blood on her mouth, Sulaiman feared she had major internal injuries. The damned bandit with the healing staff has broken it when he realized he was about to be overrun, spiteful to the very end.

  Moments after Sulaiman spoke, someone was skidding to a stop on the other side of Priscilla and dropped to his knees. Sulaiman barely had time to consider how suspicious that timing was before the young man’s hands started to glow with a soft healing light, and the paranoia in the back of Sulaiman’s mind settled back down.

  The healer’s hands hovered over Priscilla’s stomach before parts of the light slowly peeled off the healer’s hands, gently siphoning down into Priscilla. The healer was frowning in concentration and Sulaiman tried his best to not glare at him because that likely wouldn’t help the man at all, but at the moment Sulaiman cared about little else than whether or not Priscilla was going to live.

  It wouldn’t be right for her to die now, not when they had just achieved what she wanted, not when she had just become someone that Sulaiman thought he could respect.

  But Sulaiman could do nothing but watch as the healer continued his work. Sulaiman was unskilled with healing magic, with the few times Sulaiman had attempted it ending with a worse wound than he started with as it burned along the edges. It had something to do with his innate mana being closely aligned with the fire element, but that explanation didn’t make him feel any better when it was another reminder of how his heritage plagued his life.

  So, Sulaiman just sat there uselessly, staring at the healer and hoping he was far more talented than Sulaiman.

  After nearly half a minute, the healer’s face relaxed and Priscilla’s breathing smoothed out in a smooth and steady cadence. The bleeding on her shoulder had stopped though it remained an open wound.

  “Her ribs are healed,” he said, wiping away sweat from his face, “and her lungs won’t collapse now. But I can’t do anything about her shoulder at the moment.”

  Sulaiman wanted to demand answers and rip the healer a new one, but he could not just give into that aggression, especially when the healer was a victim in all this and helped Priscilla with little prompting.

  “Why not?” Sulaiman asked instead through slightly gritted teeth.

  “Her body is rejecting my magic,” the healer said, his gaze lingering on Priscilla’s face. “I had to pick what to heal and she wouldn’t have lasted the night with her ribs like that.”

  Sulaiman opened his mouth to ask more about Priscilla’s body rejecting healing magic because that was absurd, when another villager came to a stop near them.

  “Kavil,” the man panted, pulling on the healer’s elbow, “Yarnon’s arm, it was cut clean off.”

  Kavil’s eyes went wide and he rushed to his feet, and the two of them were gone before Sulaiman could say anything.

  But Sulaiman put them both out of his mind as he looked back towards Priscilla.

  Priscilla was stabilized if Kavil was to be believed, who Sulaiman saw no reason not to doubt, but her face was eerily still compared to the usual animated expressions he had grown accustomed to during the past week of traveling. He took a moment to readjust her limbs into something slightly more comfortable.

  Though Sulaiman had a selfish impulse to stay next to Priscilla until she woke up, he knew it’d be unlikely she awoke any time soon and there were better uses of his time than staying still.

  Sulaiman got to his feet and tested out his leg. The arrow head was still inside him, but it didn’t hurt that badly, nor was it impossible to put his weight on it. Walking was more like limping, but it was movement nonetheless, so he limped to the closest bandit to check their status. The one that had gone for Priscilla had bled out quickly as Sulaiman had stabbed him through the heart, so Sulaiman began a slow trek to check the remaining fallen bandits.

  He had gone for killing blows when he could, and the villagers had been brutal in their defense once the tide turned in their favor. Most were dead, another large chunk close to death so Sulaiman helped them along, and just two who looked like they’d survive the night. They had the luck to go against a woman with a frying pan and were sporting head injuries, so it was unlikely they’d get up to trouble, but Sulaiman tied both men’s hands to ensure that wasn’t even a possibility.

  After Sulaiman ensured the leader that Priscilla had taken head on was indeed dead, he spotted something in the dirt. The green ribbon that had tied up Priscilla’s hair was lying trodden and dirty, the edges frayed as if something had sliced through it. He picked up the fragile fabric, dusting it off best he could and tucked it into his pocket.

  Now he just had to find his horse. Priscilla’s horse lay dead on the ground, which was unfortunate, but luckily Sulaiman’s stallion hadn’t gone far even with the chaos going on, so Sulaiman found it quickly.

  The horse stamped its hooves in irritation as Sulaiman approached like it hadn’t appreciated being left behind, but allowed itself to be walked over the ashen remains of the archers. Sulaiman didn’t look down even as bones crunched beneath his boots. He couldn’t.

  Sulaiman tied off the horse at the bell tower near a patch of grass it immediately began eating and shouldered his pack.

  But yet another thing on the ground caught his attention, the gleam of metal clear even in the low light. Sulaiman picked up Priscilla’s dagger, taking stock of the blade. There didn’t seem to be any dulled or chipped edges, in fact, there was still coagulating blood along the surface, meaning she had actually gotten some use out of it.

  Sulaiman sighed and shook his head. Priscilla seemed to be leaving everything everywhere during this fight. He’d have to talk to her about that bad habit so next time Sulaiman didn’t have to clean up after her so much.

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  Sulaiman paused at his own thoughts, at the way he assumed they would fight together again. It was slightly disconcerting, but he found that the thought of willingly spending time with Priscilla didn’t repulse him as much as it once may have. Sulaiman didn’t know what to do with that realization.

  Putting those thoughts out of mind for now, Sulaiman returned to Priscilla to check on her status. She didn’t seem any worse than earlier, but she didn’t seem much better either. Her open shoulder wound worried Sulaiman but the healer said she was stable, so there was no use in fretting when he couldn’t do anything about it. Sulaiman had foolishly not packed any bandages or healing supplies when he embarked on this journey, as Illnyea usually handled that, but Sulaiman could now see the value in being prepared for any possible situation.

  Sulaiman settled onto the ground next to Priscilla and cleaned Priscilla’s dagger with a soft rag, watching the village put itself back together. Kavil was rushing about like a busy bee, his hands glowing as he helped heal another injury before being dragged to the next patient; others had formed a bucket brigade and were putting out the remaining fires. Luckily the flames hadn’t spread far, with only one house seeming beyond repair.

  He could offer help in suppressing the fires with his magic, but as much as Sulaiman wouldn’t admit aloud, he was tired. Sulaiman’s body ached from the blows he received in place of the less defended and his thigh smarted each time he shifted his weight, not to mention how his leg and core muscles were sore from a week straight of riding.

  A woman that Sulaiman had fought alongside with earlier approached him, the wound on her arm had been bandaged since he last saw her. She was a shorter than average half-elven woman with sun-warmed skin and sun-bleached hair, with little of the ethereal and otherworldly beauty that elves normally boasted save for her piercing blue eyes that stood out in the darkness. This woman had deep laugh lines, though her face was now pulled into a frown.

  “My name is Jeroinin, and I wished to thank you for saving my people,” the woman said in a raspy voice, stopping a few feet from Sulaiman and bowing her head. “May Gaelea’s blessings be upon you for all your days for the help you have shown us this evening.”

  Sulaiman examined the woman for a long moment as a strange feeling settled inside him as he registered her sincerity. It felt strange to be thanked so openly with no hint of reluctance in the other’s voice. Sulaiman and Illnyea had helped smaller communities around Meadowyar before but never had Sulaiman been on the receiving end of the gratitude. Sulaiman knew he often made others uncomfortable just by existing and usually left Illnyea to deal with the thankful villagers while he made sure the threats were truly dealt with.

  Sulaiman looked away from Jeroinin, feeling like a fraud. He wouldn’t have even been here if Priscilla hadn’t been saddled with his presence. Hells, Sulaiman had thought Priscilla had been up to something for half the trip and only stuck with her so he could thwart it. But even when he was being actively antagonistic, Priscilla defended his honor without a moment of hesitation when others tried to insult him.

  Sulaiman had followed Priscilla to the dining hall on the evening they had their fight, intent on eating quickly and sleeping early, but ended up overhearing Priscilla’s vehement defense of him. He barely made it back to their room before she did and it took a long time to fall asleep that night, knowing that even when Priscilla seemed like she wanted to strangle him, she thought that he was a good man, an honorable one. It had been the first time he had ever heard someone speak those words, and it had come from a woman who thought he hated her.

  Remembering that day filled Sulaiman with shame.

  “You shouldn’t thank me,” Sulaiman said, looking at Priscilla with a mess of emotions tangling up inside him. “You should thank Priscilla, she was the one who insisted that we travel here.”

  “She is?” Jeroinin said, raising from her bow with a contemplative look on her face as she looked at Priscilla. The woman’s blue eyes widened as she took her in, saying, “Now this simply won’t do.”

  Jeroinin stepped closer and Sulaiman tensed on instinct. The half-elf noticed and put up her hands in a placating manner.

  “I cannot let our savior continue to lie upon the cold ground,” Jeroinin said. “My house was thankfully relatively unscathed and I wished to offer my own bed for her to rest.”

  Sulaiman considered that offer and couldn’t come up with a reason to say no, even if a part of him instinctively balked at letting Priscilla out of his sight

  “She needs additional medical attention,” Sulaiman said, “after your people are all looked after, of course, but her shoulder needs to be treated soon.”

  “I can attend to her myself,” Jeroinin offered. “My skills are basic, but passable, I assure you.”

  Sulaiman looked down at Priscilla’s shoulder. She deserved better healing than something just ‘passable.’

  “That’s… fine, but I want the boy from earlier, Kavil, to look over her after,” Sulaiman said. “He’s the one who initially healed her and knows her condition best.”

  Jeroinin’s eyes widened for a moment before she nodded. Sulaiman shifted to try and pick Priscilla up himself and winced as the movement pulled at the arrowhead, which drew Jeroinin’s attention to it.

  “Silly boy,” Jeroinin chided, shaking her head, “if you pick her up in that state, you’re more likely to just injure both of yourselves more. After we get Priscilla settled, you’re going to get that looked at, do you understand me?”

  Sulaiman didn’t like being talked to like he was a child but stiffly nodded because Jeroinin unfortunately did have a point.

  The village leader called over an able bodied person and then Priscilla was carefully transferred to Jeroinin’s house. Jeroinin lit several candles before turning to Sulaiman with an expectant expression. Sulaiman reluctantly allowed Jeroinin to remove the arrow head and bandage his wound, as the woman insisted on addressing that before Priscilla’s wounds because, “Silly boys want to keep walking around like nothing’s bothering them.”

  The salve Jeroinin put on the wound stung more than getting hit by the arrow did, but Sulaiman dealt with it stoically, keeping an eye out the window on Kavil’s progress as the young man continued to heal everyone he went past. By the time Jeroinin declared Sulaiman sufficiently treated and the stinging salve had morphed into a numbing agent, Kavil had returned to the spot Priscilla had been originally laying, looking around in a confused manner.

  Sulaiman brushed past Jeroinin, ignoring the woman’s disapproving tut, and walked purposefully to Kavil.

  “This way,” Sulaiman said, grasping Kavil by the elbow and pulling him towards Jeroinin’s house.

  “Ah, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet,” Kavil said, expertly extricating himself from Sulaiman’s grip but kept walking alongside him. “My name is Kavil, and yours is…?”

  “Sulaiman.”

  Kavil hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing else as it seemed both of them were too tired to speak more than necessary.

  Jeroinin had taken off Priscilla’s armor and cut away part of her shirt to expose her shoulder by the time they returned. Kavil quickly moved towards the half-elven woman and his hands glowed once more above Priscilla but the light didn’t move down like before and Jeroinin frowned. The two began to speak in hushed tones as they moved around various medical supplies.

  Sulaiman settled into a chair next to the bed, watching them work, his mind slowly spinning as he finally had a moment to relax now that Priscilla was being properly taken care of.

  Priscilla’s strange behaviors on the trip drifted through his mind as he watched the healers work – her insistence they were going to do good; her seemingly arbitrary inability to speak of the details; and the strange connection to an organization that preyed upon the rejected.

  The only conclusion Sulaiman could come to was that Priscilla knew this attack was going to happen, maybe through that organization which caused their ‘irreconcilable differences.’ When she learned of it, Sulaiman couldn’t be certain, but it had to be before she separated from the Thornewoods so she could act without the Thornewoods interfering or stopping her. Why she didn’t elaborate on certain topics was still a mystery, but Sulaiman guessed it may be a curse of silence the organization forced upon her.

  Still, Sulaiman felt like he was still missing something, a fact that connected all the puzzle pieces together and made everything make sense rather than him relying on conjecture. But the object of his musings was passed out and wouldn’t be awake for some time.

  Jeroinin had been called away by another villager, leaving Kavil to finish bandaging Priscilla’s shoulder. Sulaiman let him work in silence, intent on questioning the boy about this settlement when he was done.

  But Kavil curled into the chair on Priscilla’s other side and promptly fell asleep once he tied off the bandage, his body going limp. Sulaiman let out a small, irritated sigh but let the Kavil sleep. He was likely magically exhausted after healing so many people in rapid succession and needed the rest.

  Sulaiman settled into a more comfortable position and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Priscilla’s chest until he too fell asleep.