Page 62 of Perilous Healing

Bianca flinches, but it’s so slight I wonder if Abana even catches it. “I’ve dedicated my life to being nothing like him. I just wish I could help everyone.”

“Perhaps you will,” Abana replies after a moment.

The door opens, and Yarrow steps in. The mere sight of him sends my blood boiling. Especially when I see the way he looks at Bianca. To him, she’s a prize to be won. A toy to be broken. But I’ll die before I let him put his hands on her.

“What do you want?” she demands.

“We have a medical condition that needs to be seen to. In the pit.”

“Bring them here,” I tell him.

He looks at me. “Can’t move him.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asks.

“Does it matter?”

Frustrated, Bianca grabs a bag she packed earlier and heads toward the door. “After you.” She gestures for Yarrow to go out first.

I glance behind me at Abana’s serious gaze. She hates Yarrow, that much is clear to see based on her expression. But she doesn’t rush out the door. Are emergencies like this typical? What are we going to find?

Yarrow doesn’t speak as he leads us toward the pit and down the crudely constructed wooden stairs. I keep glancing to my left and right, monitoring anyone who watches us. I don’t believe this is a trap. If it is, it’s a stupid one and completely unnecessary given we’re already prisoners, but I’m unwilling to rule anything out.

Not when Bianca’s life depends on me being aware of our surroundings.

A crowd’s gathered at the bottom of the pit. Bianca shoves through them fearlessly, while I do my best to remain close enough that I can pull her out of harm’s way. We finally reach the center and find a man lying on his back, his eyes frozen open.

A woman kneels beside him, tears in her eyes as she grips his lifeless hand. She’s devastated, broken as she whispers into his ear.

You don’t have to be a doctor to know the man is dead, and as Bianca kneels, her delicate fingers checking for a pulse, I already know she won’t find one.

And based on the glare she gives Yarrow? She knew it too. Bianca starts chest compressions, doing what she can to bring the man back. She continues to work on him as sweat beads on her brow, and yet he doesn’t wake.

Finally, after what must have been nearly five minutes of trying, Bianca stops. “How long has he been down?”

The woman begins speaking so fast that even if we spoke her native tongue, we likely wouldn’t have been able to understand. She is screaming, crying, and furiously pointing at Yarrow.

Yarrow rears back like he’s going to strike her, so I step in front of her, not speaking, though the challenge is evident in my furious gaze. If he strikes her, I’ll put him on the ground.

“About fifteen minutes,” he replies, glaring from me to Bianca.

“Fifteen minutes?” Bianca chokes out. “Was he still like this the entire time?”

Yarrow doesn’t respond, and the woman kneeling continues screaming.

“He was moving until right before they went to get you,” a man says, stepping from the crowd. His hair is gray, as is his beard, and both are coated in dirt. Kind, brown eyes stare back at us.

Yarrow glares at him, murder in his gaze.

“You mean to tell me that you left this man writhing on the ground for ten minutes before you came and got me?”

“Sometimes people get cramps,” Yarrow replies. “Could have been a cramp.”

“He’s dead!” Bianca screams as she jumps to her feet. She starts for Yarrow, but I grip her good arm, keeping her from doing what we both want to do—slamming her fist into his jaw. “I might have been able to save him!”

Yarrow doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he looks amused at her anger, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he let this innocent man die just to spite Bianca for pulling Idra and Laring from their work. “Like you could have saved your father?” he asks.

Her hands tighten into fists at her sides, and she stiffens.

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