Page 132 of Elven Crown

And now, Zida kept shooting dubious looks at Rebecca’s healed arm…

The woman had already put together several pieces of the puzzle on her own—enough to know there was something different about Shade’s elven Thon-Da’al.

Something Rebecca didn’t want anyone else to know.

Something she couldn’t let anyone else know, and she couldn’t use her Bloodshadow healing here.

Of all Shade’s members, Zida and Bor—possibly even Earl—were most likely to have heard plenty of old-world stories. Stories they could match with what they saw and their own suspicions of another confirmed old-worlder among them.

If that happened, Rebecca wouldn’t even have to give herself away.

She didn’t think Zida would squeal on her. The healer clearly had more than enough secrets of her own, all of which she’d be hard pressed to give up just because someone asked. Still, Rebecca couldn’t take the chance.

Her only other option now was to let the healer do her job and tend to Rebecca’s wounds the old-fashioned way. Which went hand in hand with submitting to Zida’s demands for a round of twenty-four-hour observation in the infirmary.

Forget the fact that, given the circumstances, the patient’s consent wasn’t remotely necessary.

Finally seeming satisfied that her patient wouldn’t fight her on this, Zida huffed out a sigh, nodded, and bent over beside the bed to rummage around beneath it. When she stood again, she lifted four strong, thick, heavy leather straps in her gnarled hands.

“What are those?” Rebecca croaked, eyeing the straps.

“What do they look like, elf? Don’t tell me you were blinded in thismishaptoo.”

“But you’re not actually going to—”

“Use them on you? Oh, yes, I most certainly am. Watch me. Because at this point, that’s about all you’re capable of right now,isn’t it?” The healer hobbled around the bed, taking the straps with her, then buckled the first one down across Rebecca’s shins.

“Zida, I’m wounded, not rabid. This is—” Rebecca cried out when the healer tightened the first creaking strap without an ounce of gentleness. “Seriously?”

“Woundedanddangerous. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, and like I said, I’m taking precautions.”

The second strap tightened across Rebecca’s upper thighs.

“Honestly, I should’ve done this the last time,” Zida continued. “But hey. I’m not stupid. I learn from my mistakes. Somethingyoumight wanna try if you intend to survive more than a few months, the rate you’re going.”

“I’m not doing anything—ah!”

The third strap creaked and groaned across Rebecca’s upper chest when the healer pulled it extra tight for good measure. The pressure filled the wound in her belly with an ache that would have made anyone pass out.

She wondered vaguely why she hadn’t.

Then Zida jerked Rebecca’s arms down by her sides and buckled the last strap so tight across her patient’s collarbones and shoulders, Rebecca grimaced. Once she finished, though, the healer patted Rebecca’s shoulder with a surprising amount of tenderness. “Precautions.”

“I don’t see why you’d need them,” Rebecca hissed through clenched teeth. “It’s just a wooden stake through my guts.”

“Uh-huh,” Zida replied flatly. “Sure. And you’re just a random elf who showed up at our doorstep six months ago, nothing more. Hey, as long as we’re swapping fairy tales, you might as well call me the goddamn Lost Princess of Cálindor.”

Taking a step back to survey her handiwork, Zida dusted off her hands and nodded. A smirk bloomed on her wrinkled, puckered lips.

No…

Rebecca knew what the woman was getting at, even before Zida turned those black beady eyes onto her with a knowing look.

The healer knew who she was.

Maybe not exactly who or where Rebecca came from in the old world. Zida probably hadn’t yet thought the words “Bloodshadow” and “elf” in the same sentence. There was still a good chance she had no clue why Rebecca was on the run or the details of what she’d been running from by hiding herself here on Earth.

But she knew enough.

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