“You ready?” I held the needlepoint to her cool skin.
A raspy laugh escaped her lips. “I can block pain. Just keep the blood in.”
I got to work. I’d never stitched up a wound this deep. It wasn’t properly cleaned, but I’d hoped Faruhar’s enhanced healing abilities would make up the difference. “Why were you there, Faruhar? Did you follow me?”
She grimaced, a flicker of defiance crossing her features. “I was following a lead.”
“A lead?” I pulled the string taut.
“A rumor from the other ghosts, a risk, but good enough for me, even if Bria didn’t want me to try. She doesn’t like it when I get close to Mahakal.” Faruhar’s voice raked the frigid air. “Then I saw you and I couldn’t just go. You looked so afraid. I thought—”
“You thought you could take on two military squads on your own?” I finished for her, a mix of exasperation and something deeper twisting in my gut. “You almost died.”
“You sound just like Bria,” she murmured, with a hint of a smile between pursed lips. “She thanks you for that one.”
“Hi Bria,” I said to the open air. “Sorry I tried to kill your sister. Truce?”
Faruhar just sighed.
“How’d you get to that tree without anyone seeing you?”
She huffed. “I was in that tree before Mahakal showed up. When they did, well, no one ever looks straight up in the forest as much as you’d think,” she explained, her voice growing fainter.
“My brother Iden taught me the same thing.” I smiled, then remembered she’d killed him. “You could have waited until it was safe, until we cleared out.”
“Mahakal—” Her eyes fluttered closed, her head lolling against the stone.
Panic surged through me. “Far? Stay awake for me.” I fumbled for her canteen, forcing a few sips of water past her parched lips and checking her pulse. Faint.
A crackle of leaves announced Asher’s return to the ruins. His face grim, he clutched a handful of round, green leaves. “Got the plantain,” he said, jaw locked as he looked at Faruhar. “Voids, will that make a difference?”
“Ash, help me,” I begged.
I set to work on the gash on Faruhar’s leg while Asher knelt beside me, bruising and crushing the leaves before applying them under her arm. I awaited each rasp of her lungs.
“Far, what else do you need to heal?” I’d just finished the last stitch on her leg.
Little warmth lingered beneath my fingertips. She didn’t answer.
“Far? How do I heal you?” I repeated, urgent.
She opened fluttering, unfocused eyes. “I need to make blood,” she whispered. “Water. Meat. Time.”
“Okay.” I held the canteen to her lips for her to drain.
When she was done, I went for the jerky I saw in her bag.
Asher stiffened when he saw it. He’d just as soon eat a person. To his credit, he kept his mouth shut, offering to fill the water bottle as I cut the strips into thinner slices to make them easier to chew. She was barely breathing.
“I’m going to gather some wood for a fire,” Asher said when he came back. “We’ll hide it in the morning.”
I nodded, analyzing every movement as she insisted on feeding herself with a trembling hand, even as her eyes kept drifting closed.
Faruhar coughed, a weak sound. “Thank you.” Her eyes drooped closed again.
Asher lit the fire inside our corner of the ruin. The night deepened as the flame brought a fresco to life on the nearest wall: a herd of hoofed beasts I didn’t recognize. Asher turned his back to us both on the other side of the fire, lying down to sleep. I sat beside Faruhar, watching her violent shivers until I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
“You’re too cold from that blood loss,” I murmured.