Page 33 of The Elven Healer's Apprentice

Merlon snorted. “It will take more than a single night’s sleep for me to recover from the past few days.”

Hubert paused in the middle of spreading a blanket. “Many healings?”

The healer lifted his eyelids only enough to expose a flash of silvery iris before letting his eyes close again. “You can let go now, Adela.”

“No.” My bluntness earned me another glimpse of his eyes. “Not until you are tucked in bed.”

“The bed is for you,” Merlon began, trying to extract his fingers from my grasp, but I tightened my grip.

“Not until you are in bed and comfortable.”

A silvery eyebrow rose. “Really?”

“I don’t understand how holding onto me is helping you, but clearly you need every bit of help you can get. Also, there is no way Hubert and I could move you should you pass out.”

“She speaks truth.” The hobgoblin stepped back. “Your sleeping place is prepared.”

“Very well.” With a pained groan, Merlon crawled three-limbed across the floor and, rolled onto his back on the mound of bedding Hubert had spread on the floor. Only then did he release my hand. Instantly, he slept.

I stood there for a moment, monitoring his breathing. Despite the grayish tone of his skin, he appeared stable. His breathing was even and deep. No distress marred his features.

“I have never seen him this weak,” Hubert whispered. “Will he recover by tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted reluctantly. The flutter of anxiety in my chest intensified with my growing unease. Kneeling on the floor, I reached across to touch Merlon’s forehead. The skin beneath my fingers felt cool and dry like it should. At the contact, he stirred, muttering something under his breath. I withdrew my hand, noting that he frowned in his sleep when I drew back onto my heels. “I have never seen him like this either.”

“We should let him rest,” Hubert advised. “Elves are resilient creatures. Perhaps he will regain his normal vigor after a night’s rest.” He motioned toward the open doorway. “Come and eat. Poppy had plenty of food prepared. You can bring him back some after you have supped.”

With great reluctance, I rose from the floor and followed the hobgoblin back into the common room.

“No Merlon?” Poppy’s bright green eyes were an interesting complement to her husband’s golden-coral gaze. Standing only slightly shorter than Hubert, she was less wrinkled and significantly less stout than her husband.

“He has succumbed to sleep,” her husband informed her as he claimed a seat at the table. “Sit, Adela. Eat.” He motioned toward me. “Poppy, this is Adela, Merlon’s not-wife.”

I had been in the process of sitting when he said that. Startled, I lowered myself into the squat chair a bit sharply, snapping my head up to study my host. “What—” Not sure howto word my request, I stopped and reconsidered. Merlon had mentioned something, but I had been too distracted to protest then.

“Is she betrothed to him, then?” Poppy asked in a lowered voice.

“No,” I declared.

Both hobgoblins frowned at me.

“Then how are you connected? You have some connection, or he wouldn’t be depending on you for magical support.” Taking pity on me when I regarded him blankly, Hubert asked, “Are you promised to each other romantically?”

I shook my head. “No. I am a healer who works with him.”

“Ah.” Poppy’s eyes brightened with understanding before confusion followed. “But you are human. How do you treat patients without possessing magic? You aren’t a magus, are you?”

“Hush, Poppy.” Hubert motioned to my empty plate. “Food first, then questions.”

“Of course.” She flashed me a brilliant smile. “You must be starving.”

Between the two of them, they heaped my plate high with hot, savory foods and filled a mug with cider. Then they urged me to eat much, the way Sina would’ve at home. And from the first bite, I knew why. Like Sina’s cooking, Poppy’s food fed the soul and the body. Before I realized it, the entire story spilled out about how Merlon had rescued me from being executed and then abandoned me in his compound.

“That explains a great deal.” Hubert leaned back in his chair, having polished his plate completely clear of food. He had a look of contentment and peace about him as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Over a year past, Warlord Hectorius placed a bounty on a mysterious woman’s head. I heard it was something to do with a curse and his son’s death.”

Familiar grief pressed against my breastbone. “He accused me of killing my brother. If anyone did, it was him. He refused to listen to wise counsel.”

“Yours?”

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