Page 63 of Perilous Healing

I release her.

“Toss the body,” Yarrow orders.

Bianca steps in front of the deceased man. “You will not take him! He’ll get a proper burial!”

“That’s not how we do things here,” Yarrow replies.

Bianca remains where she is, blocking the other guards from retrieving the body. I ready for a fight, preparing to protect Bianca at all costs.

“Get out of the way, Selena,” he orders.

“No.”

The woman who’d been kneeling beside the body remains where she is, too, even leaning in closer to Bianca.

Yarrow glares, clearly weighing his options.

If he forces Bianca away from the body, then she may cause trouble for him.

If he allows the direct violation of an order, that in itself could lead to problems.

Finally, he waves his hand in dismissal. “Fine. Do what you want with the body, but it better not be until after nightfall. You all have work to do. And don’t forget about curfew. If you’re caught out after hours, we’ll dock your food.” He turns and leaves, taking the two guards with him.

The man who’d translated steps forward. “We have a place,” he says softly.

“Tell us where it is and we’ll get him ready for burial,” Bianca promises.

The man studies her, likely trying to discern whether or not he can trust her. The woman kneeling in the dirt sniffles and runs her hand over the side of the dead man’s face. My heart aches for her, a tightness spreading through my chest and into my gut.

To love means to eventually lose.

I know that better than most.

My gaze falls on Bianca.

But is that a reason to not love at all?

Bianca stands beside me,silent as the body is lowered into the ground by two men. Cloaked in linen, the body was washed and prepared for burial by Bianca and Abana, both women working hard to ensure he regained the dignity stolen from him by River and Yarrow.

A man speaks in their foreign language, but Abana translates for us in a low whisper.

“Shaene was a good man. Honest. Kind. A friend to all. May he rest in peace now, knowing that his life will forever be remembered,” she whispers. “His wife will rest peacefully knowing she will one day see him, as will his children.”

As she speaks, my gaze drifts to the woman who’d knelt beside him. She stands with her children, a boy and a girl, both no older than thirteen. The girl and her mother are in tears, while the boy is trying his hardest to remain strong.

That bottled-up strength is something I understand quite well.

Bianca sniffles, and I look over as she wipes a tear from her cheeks.

Without giving it the thought I probably should, I reach out and take her hand with mine, interweaving our fingers. The touch does more for me than I can even put into words, the warmth of the contact shooting straight up through my arm, and I know—without a doubt—that I can do anything as long as she’s with me.

“May I?” Bianca asks as soon as the man is done speaking.

Abana translates and the man nods, gesturing for her to speak. She pulls her hand from mine and opens her Bible. “I’m new here, but I see the pain you are all suffering. I see the agony that weighs you down, and I’m praying harder than I’ve ever prayed for you to all regain the freedom that was stolen from you.” She pauses so Abana can continue translating. “I wish to read you part of a Psalm that brings me comfort when I’m weighed down by pain.”

Abana finishes, and a woman calls something out. Abana turns to us. “She asks what is a Psalm.”

Bianca’s eyes widen, and I can see that she’s struggling to find the words to explain. I start to respond with what little I know, but she begins speaking before I can. “We are all created by a loving God. And while we face many trials in this life, His Son, Jesus Christ, came and died for our sins so that we may one day join Him in His kingdom.” She holds up her Bible. “This is the Holy Bible. It is God’s Word. His law and His promises. The Psalms were mainly written by a man named David. He was a shepherd, but God made him a king.”

---