Page 9 of The Lost Guard's Healer

“Well, thank you, for saving my life,” I say.

He nods slowly and presses a hand over his heart. I take that to mean a gesture of gratitude, or thanks.

Freddick soon returns with a clay cup of water. “Boiled and cooled, just as your people like.” He passes it to me with gentle hands, patient as I readjust my weight on the crutches to be able to hold the cup. Freddick sneaks a look at Aldus, who gives him a kind smile and a nod of the hair.

“Good on you, Freddick,” Aldus says.

Freddick dips his head in thanks and sharply turns and strides away, off toward the trees and a streaming river, before I can remember to thank him.

I turn back to speak to Aldus, but something catches my eye. Two women hang laundry together in the grassy fields across from us, opposite the river. They work quickly and gracefully, but there’s something about one of them that feels at once familiar and unknown. It’s the way she carries herself, the way she moves, that has me captivated. Stark blue eyes meet mine from across the distance, as if she felt my gaze. And that’s when I recognize her.

There she is again. The woman with the dark hair and the strange hostility. It isn’t the underlying annoyance that has me turning away from her and back to Aldus, but the reminder that those blue eyes bring. Aldus called her Galene. His Galene.

“That is your daughter?” I ask, trying to cover up that I was just staring at her right in front of him.

Aldus says, “That’s my youngest. Galene.” He’s turned to face her now, and I can’t help but do the same once more.

She notices us watching her, and she gives me a fiercely hot scowl, like she’s trying to kill me with a look.

“She doesn’t seem to like me very much,” I say.

“She doesn’t like foreigners.”

I catch a hesitant note in this voice and think there’s more he isn’t telling me.

Galene flashes another glare my way before turning her back and deciding I don’t exist. Fair enough. I don’t need her to like me, anyway. It’s easier for me if she doesn’t, actually.

I look around and think about how far away from home I am. I’m at the mercy of these people. People I still don’t really know. People I can’t fully trust, if at all. I have to wonder if I’m truly safe here with them.

I continue to study my surroundings and start making plans to leave. Whether or not they’ll let me leave is something I’ll have to wait and see.

Chapter four

Galene

Ifeel his eyes burning in the back of my head, and it’s all I can do to stop from shuddering.

“Galene,” someone says beside me with concern in their voice.

I turn to Kris who is hanging a cardigan onto the clothesline. I focus on our task and collect another garment from the washed clothing basket and hang it on the line. The scents of fresh roses and creamy valandias drift in the surrounding air.

She’s watching me, and it’s clear she will not let this go. I’ve seen that concerned, questioning look on her for most of my life and know it well.

“You had a question?” I ask her innocently.

She pouts at me as she hangs another garment up, attaching the pegs while looking at me. “No question. Simply an observation. If you don’t want to tell me why your face is so sour, you don’t have to. I will simply speculate on my own.”

“Feel free to speculate,” I say dismissively, hoping to put an end to this conversation.

I notice her perk up in the corner of my eye.

“Oh, my,” she says, drawing out the words breathlessly. “Is that the Oathlander? I never knew how handsome he was. I see why you’ve been keeping him to yourself all this time.”

A frustrated sigh that escapes me. “I haven’t been keeping him to myself. My father agreed with the elders that we wouldn’t draw attention to him. I just had to make sure he didn’t die.” I shoot a look behind me, swallowing hard as I assess his features. I search for a flaw in them to use to my defense, but can only think of a lie to tell. “He is not handsome. His face is too long to be so. And you should not trust him. I mean it, Kris. Don’t get too close.”

Kris remains eyeing him with a hungry look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind getting closer to him.”

“Kris,” I snap, turning on her. “He is an Oathlander.”

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