Page 12 of Crown of Chaos

“A group of men delivered you to me demanding I tend to you and your friend immediately. They remained outside until I assured them you would survive, but the taller one, he was fearful of losing you. That much was clear enough to deduce. They were worried about the poison fighting to end your life but neglected to mention your condition.”

“What condition?” I asked, carefully reclining on the stack of pillows behind me.

“You are with child,” she answered, confusion stamped across her face. Her brow creased as my eyes rounded in horror. “Oh! You didn’t know?”

“Nope.” I snorted before laughing outright, which then made me groan in pain. “You’re mistaken.”

“I amnotwrong,” she returned coolly, losing the softness of her tone.

“I can’t be pregnant,” I clarified, shaking my head as sweat beaded on my brow and spine from the effort to remain upright. “I am fighting a war against an insane goddess while running from an asshole who wants to own me, use me, or murder me. Who knows which he’ll choose today? It could be any of them or it might even be all of them at the same time. I cannot be carrying his child—this isn’t happening right now.”

“I do not think what you are willing to believe is relevant. You are indeed pregnant.” She snorted, as if she couldn’t believe I was arguing the truth of her words. Grabbing a metal cup from a crude, makeshift table, she rose from her seat. “I saved them for you.” My hands trembled as she filled the cup with hot water and added chamomile.

“Them?” I asked, needing her to use crayons to explain the plural term. I guessed it shouldn’t have been a shock considering my line, but it didn’t sit well knowing that I’d not have one life to protect, but two.

She sat beside me, helping me sit up before offering me the metal cup of herbs. My mind whirled with ramifications of what she’d just told me. I couldn’t have babies during a freaking war. It wasn’t responsible and wouldn’t end well. Who the hell got knocked up before going head-to-head with a goddess?

Ember, you asshole!

“If you listen, you can hear two hearts beating in perfect harmony together,” the healer explained softly.

My hearing perked up, and I swallowed the fear that shot through me when the two, strong heartbeats she’d spoken of met my ears. Denial leaped to my tongue, and I felt the prick of tears against my eyes.

“What are you?” I asked before taking a sip, unable to process my being pregnant and needing a new focus.

“I am a hag.” A frown marred her lips. “You don’t know of my kind? We are renowned for our healing, which you should count yourself fortunate was something your saviors were aware of since they traveled through the swamp to deliver you to me. The men that left you here said nothing about you or who you were, other than you could not die,” she stated. “They did not mention any names, nor did I ask.”

“Thank you. Is Esme going to be okay?” I inquired, closing my eyes against the pain burning in my side, and the hag slid the metal cup from my hold and set it on the table for me. “Those bastards used hemlock against us. They controlled frost fire as well. It explains why neither Aurora nor I had scented the danger.”

The stink of rotting corpses mixed with the overpowering scent of hemlock would prevent detecting the obnoxious odors of pretty much any herb, and that was unsettling.

Another concern was that I had searched the field around where we had been standing and had only sensed Esme, which meant Aurora and her followers had left and abandoned us. That truth caused a pang in my chest that fought to be examined closer.

“Your friend is alive and healing. I do not know Aurora, but I guess she’s another witch?” she asked, and her curious tone made me hesitate before replying.

“Yes, she is,” I confirmed. “Can you tell me what the men who carried us to you looked like?” Someone had saved our asses, and they hadn’t stuck around to take credit for it.

She smiled softly before waving at her eyes. “I will tell you what I can, but I am blind to colors, as was the creature that had these eyes before me. The men were tall and well built. They spoke with deep voices that soothed me and caused me to ache. I am certain that they were warriors, as they walked in a manner that belayed strength and surety. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you which land they were from, as they carried no insignia or other markings to discern where they called home.”

After all that, I was still stuck on one thing. “You took someone’s eyes?”

She looked like something out of an urban legend, which should have terrified me, but it didn’t. It intrigued me and made me want to hear her story.

“Yes, I did. I was left here to die, and so I became a renowned healer instead. I made do with what was on hand, as well as taking what I needed.” She blinked rapidly, as if to point out she’d taken something’s eyes.

I bristled at the thought of this woman being abandoned to die in the swamp alone. The fact that she rose from the sludge was a testament to her strength, but then she’d chosen to learn the healing arts.

“You find my fight funny?” she asked carefully, her demeanor changing.

“No, but I find your strength inspiring. They threw you into the swamp to die. You could have easily let your oppressor win, but you didn’t, which tells me you’re a fighter. I am gathering such creatures together. I wish to change how this world treats the ones like us or those who are viewed as weaker. I am fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. You could join me and assist those who have been treated as you were.”

“I fought for myself, though, girl. I murdered the man who harmed me, and I wear his skin to remind myself why I am here. I have seen war, and I don’t welcome it here. Those who think they are good are, more often than not, evil. War is no friend to either side that wages it. It is, however, great for business. You are a witch, are you not?” she asked, her strange eyes roving over my face. “And you’re very powerful, correct?”

“I am,” I confirmed with a nod. “I don’t see what either has to do with anything transpiring here, though.”

“Don’t you? You owe me for what I’ve done to save you, or I can easily undo it and watch you and your friend die from a slow, painful death. Once you are healed, you will perform a spell that makes me appear young and beautiful to men. I wish to look like you, minus the weirdly colored hair,” she stated, reaching forward to rub the strands of my hair between her fingers. “Even without the ability to see color, it is so light that it shimmers.”

“It’s silver,” I offered, slightly offended by her demand.

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