CHAPTER II

Tizo had inherited three ships upon becoming a captain, but only one of them matched up with my old expectations of pirate ships. The other two were more suited to hauling cargo, and we set out on one of those at dawn, sailing west as the sun rose with a crew of twenty.

“Akela not with you?” one of Tizo's regular crew asked, once the sails were tended to and Mahon was fading in the distance.

“We're just picking up goods. I doubt we're going to run into much trouble,” I said, leaning on the railing and watching the waves. “Besides, I haven't seen her in a few days. I think she's off on a job at the moment.”

The woman shrugged, supposing we could do without Akela, and headed below deck to pretend to make herself useful. Even amongst pirates, Akela stood out as particularly intimidating, when she wanted to be, and she had no shortage of offers from people needing someone to stand behind them, arms folded across their chest while threats were issued, or to act as a bodyguard. I often went along with her to help translate, for few in Mahon spoke Mesomium, and Akela hadn't picked up the language as quickly as I had.

Eloa took less than an hour to reach with the favourable winds we'd been granted. It was easily twice the size of Mahon and boasted that those within all earnt an honest living, but the port thought far too much of itself for a town that openly traded with pirates. The docks were swarmed with fishing boats that hadn't yet set out for the day, and the Eloans had been expecting us; everything we were there to collect was waiting for us, and a space to make port had been left clear.

It was in their best interest that they get the exchange over and done with as quickly as possible, lest we tar their reputation.

“Seems to me that we ought to be getting a discount,” Tizo announced as she strode across the gangplank. The merchant who'd been sent to make the trade cleared his throat nervously and placed a hand atop one of the crates, as though that'd stop us from pulling them from under him. “Seeing as how you lot are no longer making the deliveries, that is. Time is money, and you've cost us a hell of a lot of it. A whole morning wasted on services you should be providing!”

“Y-yes, well, Gavern's dominion of the sea has affected us all,” the merchant began, voice drowned out by a dozen feet hitting the docks.

While Tizo gently persuaded the merchant that it was in his best interest to offer us a discount, lest we take our business elsewhere, the rest of us moved the crates and barrels and cages onto the ship and below deck. When Tizo had said we'd be picking up livestock, I'd been expecting a dozen or two chickens, but sure enough, there were a handful of pigs there, too. They squealed as we jostled them around, and I winced in sympathy as I walked backwards along the dock, knowing that they weren't going to enjoy being on the sea.

Tizo insisted on personally delivering Reis' letters, and luckily for the Eloans, it was too early in the day for any of the crew to be tempted by the prospect of making trouble. We headed back to the ship and waited there, some of the crew sweeping feathers from around their feet and picking them out of their hair, others yelling beneath deck in an effort to shut the unsettled animals up.

“Hey, get over here, Felheim,” a woman named Cal called from across the deck. I tore my eyes from the endless ocean and did her the favour of looking her way, but didn't go anywhere. She was surrounded by a group of three women, all of them interested in whatever she'd just shared with them. When I didn't move, she didn't risk having me ignore her for a second time, and said, “Heard a rumour about you.”

I'd never got along with Cal. She was under the impression that she'd win Reis' favour by being aggressively loud-mouthed, and after years, still hadn't figured out that boasting alone wasn't going to earn her any respect.

“So? I heard you can't swim. You don't see me gossiping about it,” I said, shrugging.

“Who the hell—” Cal began, and forced herself to stop. Acting defensively was only going to retroactively make it true. “Heard you killed a dragon.”

I tensed, but not for long. It wasn't the first time I'd heard something of the sort, and making an effort to roll my eyes, I said, “Not everyone in Felheim is a Knight, you know.”

“Yeah, but,” Cal took a few slow steps towards me. “That healer reckons she knows a necromancer. Now, it obviously ain't the dragon-born, and I can't see whatserface with the axe ever needing that kind of power. Which don't leave us with many options.”

“She knows a lot of people,” I said, fighting not to avert my gaze. “And if I was a necromancer, why would I bother working a job like this with you?”

Cal let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, and a few of the others who'd been eavesdropping gave up any notion of subtlety to stare at us, awaiting Cal's reaction. In all my time in Mahon, I'd done what I could to avoid getting into fights; a black-eye instantly healing over wouldn't exactly strengthen my case.

Cal lifted a hand and slapped me against the side of my arm.

“You ain't bad, Felheim,” she said, laughing obnoxiously, “Should look into getting a couple of tattoos, though. You still look like you sailed into Mahon by accident.”

Shrugging her off, I went back to staring out at the ocean, not moving until Tizo returned to the dock. I helped pull in the gangplank, and Tizo whistled as we set off, proud of the bargain she'd managed to strike.

Back in Port Mahon, there was an air of unease around the docks, interspersed by apprehensive excitement. More ships than usual had gathered, all awaiting whatever retaliation Gavern would subject us to, and when Tizo saw the faces of captains she hadn't spoken with in months, she decided she ought to be defending the port and strengthening her connections.

“Here, go toss this in the temple, would you?” Tizo asked, once we'd unloaded the cargo, and threw me a pouch of coins left over from the trade. “Let Reis know I delivered their letters, too.”

I often found myself at the temple, though I'd yet to work out exactly what it was I was hoping to find. The Priests there never lectured anyone, never tried to lure anyone over, as the members of the House of Light in Isin had. Though I supposed that they had the advantage of people being pious here. I would sit and speak with them, sometimes, would listen to their tales of creation, and have them tell me about necromancers. Yet no matter how much respect they spoke of the necromancers with, no matter how much of a blessing they claimed they were, I wouldn't let myself believe it.

Surely they'd tell a very different tale, once they were face to face with a necromancer.

My powers hadn't sparked within me, beyond my control, in a long time. Eighteen months had passed, and I still felt drained from the dragon; for weeks I'd been unable to stand properly, and my head had pounded for months, but I'd pushed past some barrier and I was stronger for it. My control was better, and I could almost ignore what I was.

The temple itself was a stepped pyramid made from sandstone, full of mosaics and murals, doorway flanked by two stone phoenixes, wings outstretched. It was busy at most hours of the day, though never crowded, and residents of Port Mahon drifted in and out, lighting red candles in thanks to Isjin, reflecting on those who'd been lost recently, and what had been gained.

“Good morning, Rowan,” one of the Priests said warmly as I emptied the coins into the collection box, “You help preserve what Isjin has created. You have our thanks.”

“It's from Tizo—Captain Tizo,” I said, and the Priest nodded, making a note in the hefty ledger by the box.

The money would be gathered up and sent to Reis at the end of the week, who would then decide how it was to be divided; how much would go into paying off Mahon's debts, how much would be put towards repairs. I made a round of the temple before leaving, gaze skidding over the murals of the humans Isjin had uplifted to help her manage the world, once her creation grew, and not looking for anything in particular, headed straight back to the hut.

I'd woken a few minutes before dawn, and breakfast had consisted of a flask of water I'd gulped down while sprinting towards the dock. I only meant to pop back to the hut for something to eat, but Akela's voice boomed from the windows, and I knew I was in for company, too.

“You're back!” I said, grinning as I stepped through the door.

A mountain of food was laid out across the table, fruit and bread and jars of honey, but Reis was still trying to write in the face of a late breakfast claiming their workspace.

“Northwood!” Akela called out through a mouthful of star fruit. “I am worrying that you are being gone all day, but here you are! Come, come. There is plenty to eat, yes?”

Kouris had joined her at the table, and a clatter over at the counter caused me to look around. My grin didn't fade, but once I saw Katja, there was no real feeling behind it. Glasses in hand, she caught my eye and smiled, wanting to say something but wincing instead. I nodded my head towards her, and hurried to take a seat by Akela.

I reached for the bread and Reis stopped writing to glower at the food spread out before them, then glowered at the glass of juice Katja set down next to their book. She took a seat next to mine, and without being able to help it, I turned enough for her to notice the slight.

“I thought you were going to be gone for another few days,” I said to Akela, “How was the job?”

“Hah! You think that with me on board, any job is taking as long as the captain is expecting? I am hurrying things on quite nicely, you realise,” she said, raising her drink in a toast to herself. “It is not bad. It is not exciting, either, not like the time we are tracking down that right-hand man of Gavern's all the way to Ridgeth. But I am earning enough money, so I am not complaining.”

“Someone was asking after you this morning,” I said, helping myself to a slice of fruit in each colour. “Even though we were just picking up a few crates.”

“Honestly, I am not knowing how this town is managing before I am here,” Akela said, sighing as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

“Oh, right,” I said, turning towards Reis. “Tizo delivered your letters.”

Reis barely bothered to grunt.

“Are you planning on working yourself into a watery grave?” Kouris asked. “Close the book and eat something.”

Reis tried to ignore her, but none of us missed the way they scowled down at the pages of their book. Refusing to close it, they relented enough to look up, stared at each one of us for a few long seconds, as though we were all guilty of something nefarious enough as ensuring they had enough to eat.

“Look here. Between last month's disaster with some utter moron setting a torch down by a barrel of ale and the lack of trade we've had reaching Mahon, I've somehow gotta figure out how much we're sending off to the Queen this month,” Reis said, readjusting their glasses.

“Personally, I don't quite understand this whole donation system,” Katja began. “Surely the Queen ought to tax Mahon as she does all other towns. I understand that Canth hasn't been in the best shape for some time, but consistency is the first step towards rigidity.”

Reis set down their pen, rubbing their temples.

“Canth ain't Kastelir. We've got our own way of doing things, princess. We like Queen Nasrin, so we act as though we ain't aware that she's giving us special treatment 'cause she's hoping one of us will manage to off Gavern,” Reis said, pushing the book aside and tearing off a chunk of bread. “If we send her a little money now and again, that's gonna help her stay on the throne and keep us in her favour.”

“Still,” Katja said, unflinching. “It doesn't seem right that a Queen associates with pirates.”

“You're one of us now,” Reis said, and with a sigh, Katja let the subject drop.

Kouris set about getting Akela up to speed with all that she'd missed, despite having been gone herself, and I listened as intently as I could, as though it would stop me from feeling Katja's eyes upon me. When I didn't look around of my own volition and clearing her throat didn't earn her my attention, she took to tugging on my sleeve.

“Isn't Atthis coming over?” I asked, pre-empting whatever she had to say.

“Uncle's at home. Reading something, or sulking over something,” Katja said, shaking her head a little. “I do wish he'd take a few hours of his day to socialise. Drawing up plan after plan to save Kastelir can't be any good for him.”

“You should tell him to come by some time. I miss getting to see him,” I said, instantly regretting giving Katja the opportunity to ask why I couldn't simply visit the apartment she shared with Atthis and Akela.

In that vein, she said, “Speaking of which, dear, I feel as though it's been weeks since I've seen you. Not that you're entirely to blame, of course. Being the only healer in a town of pirates doesn't give me as much free time as I'd like; not that I'm not grateful to be able to help as much as I do.”

I hummed in some sort of agreement, chewing on a crust as I thought back to the first months we'd spent in Canth. Katja and Atthis hadn't crossed the Uncharted Sea with us. We hadn't known they'd fled Isin until we'd happened across them, days after arriving, and for the first few weeks, Katja and I had been inseparable. She'd talked me through what had happened, had tried to help me understand my powers, and she'd always been willing to listen to me; so long as what I said always came back to necromancy.

But lately, I could tell how much being away from Kastelir was hurting her. How what had happened seemed to be catching up with her all at once.

“It's not too hot out yet,” I said, getting to my feet. There were things I wanted to say to her, things I didn't want anyone else listening in on. “Let's go eat on the pier.”

Katja's face lit up, and she hurried to pick out the rest of our breakfast, piling food on a plate and rushing out after me.

The waves lapped at the base of the pier, far below my dangling feet, and though I missed the shade of the hut, trading it for privacy was a fair deal.

Katja placed the plate between us, and as she lowered herself onto the edge of the pier, I said, “Katja, you have to stop telling people I'm a necromancer,” before she had the chance to say anything.

“Rowan! Why, I've never said such a thing. I may have mentioned that I knew a necromancer, when the topic arose through no initiation of my own, but I'd never mention you by name,” Katja said, covering my hand with hers. When I instinctively pulled it away, she muttered, “Honestly, I don't know why you go to such lengths to hide it, Rowan. You have a gift, a true gift, and yet you insist on squandering it. People would praise you, Rowan. Were you not so scared of what you are, you could truly help Port Mahon; the whole of Canth, even.”

I picked up a slice of melon and tossed it as far as I could. It sunk into the sea with a silent splash and I said nothing.

“Sorry. I ought not lecture you, not on this,” Katja said quietly. “None of that is of any concern to me. I simply miss having you as a friend, Rowan.”

“... we're still friends,” I grumbled, wondering how far I could throw a bunch of grapes.

“Are we? Because it seems to me as though you are quite intent on avoiding me. I can't recall the last time you visited me at my apartment, and I only wish I knew why it happened so abruptly. We used to be so close, Rowan. We learnt Canthian together, found a way to survive here side by side, and... I miss those days, dear.”

I pulled my feet up onto the pier, rested my chin on a knee and wondered why I could never bring myself to say the things I wanted to her. Why I always turned away from her instead of telling her what was wrong.

She had a point. We had been close. In the beginning, I'd been too scared to wander freely amongst the pirates, and I thought we'd only ever have each other.

“You have to stop pushing me,” I said slowly, head aching as I ground my teeth together. “Just because you'd use my powers in a different way doesn't mean that I should have to... I can't do it, Katja. I can't teach you how to be a necromancer, alright?”

Katja hadn't taken what had happened to Kastelir well. None of us had, and we all coped in our own ways. Katja's methods involved pushing herself past exhaustion, taking on more than I ever had in my village, until she was barely allowing herself a moment's sleep. I'd tried to intervene, but she'd only said that she could feel herself getting stronger; that she was about to break through the limitations imposed upon her.

I'd seen her crush bugs with her thumb, convinced she could bring them back to life, if only she tried hard enough.

But it was my fault. I'd humoured her. I'd helped her hone her powers, I'd sat and told her how it felt to bring someone back to life; how it felt to force death into a creature a thousand times bigger than I was.

“I'm sorry, Rowan,” Katja managed after a long pause. Glancing at her from the corner of my eye, I moved the plate of fruit from between us, and let her fall against my shoulder. “... I just want to go home. No matter what has become of Kastelir, it cannot be worse than what I have imagined. What I have endured within my dreams. All I want is to return to my country and help rebuild it, no matter what it takes.”

“Me too,” I murmured, resting my chin atop her head.

When the dragons came, I'd been fighting for Kastelir for a matter of weeks. Katja had dedicated her entire life keeping her Kingdom together, and I ought to have been more understanding. I ought to have appreciated how hard it was on her.

We sat like that for a time, watching the ships drift across the horizon, fishing boats slowly heading back to port in time for the midday lull. Two larger ships made port, a red-flagged vessel I recognised as belonging to a crew from Ridgeth, along with one of the few merchant ships that had yet to be scared off by Gavern's antics, but there was a dark mark on the horizon I couldn't account for.

I leant forward, squinting, entertaining thoughts of Yin Zhou finally playing Mahon a visit, and said, “Do you recognise that ship?” to Katja.

“I shouldn't say I do!” she said, barely bothering to pay it more than a cursory glance. “You spend far more time at sea than I'm wont to.”

Katja had a point. In the months that we'd been in Canth, she had refused to set foot on another ship. All the more reason for me to be curious about the one approaching.

Once it drew close enough for me to see the colours of its sails, dark greens and navy blues, I bolted to my feet and called out, “Reis!”

I needn't have bothered. It'd been spotted down at the docks, too, and a fraction of a second after I'd called out, a horn sounded.

Now that it was spotted, the ship didn't hold back. It hurtled towards the town with a frightening speed, wind acting in its favour, and as it rose over the swell of a wave, the whole world was muted in the prelude to a cannonball hitting the docks. Even this far down the beach, the noise thundered through me, and I seized hold of Katja's arm, pulling her back towards the hut.

“Who the hell – who the bloody hell – let that sod play around with gun powder?” Reis sounded out through grit teeth. “One ship. One bloody ship against a town. He's taking the piss.”

Akela and Kouris rushed out of the hut after Reis, ready to charge into town and onto whatever ships were headed out to face Gavern's, and without letting go of Katja, I tried to ease her back into the hut.

“Stay here,” I said to her, certain I could be brave if I had someone to look after.

Trembling with fear, Katja shook her head over and over, saying, “N-no, I can help, Rowan. I must...”

It wasn't the first time Port Mahon had been struck, but that did nothing to stop my surroundings from warping. The ship became a dragon, the cannonball its breath, and the ocean waves churned with fire, rushing ever closer to us. Every thud and crash echoed on between my ears, and the yells of pirates become the screams of citizens begging for help.

I gripped Katja's hand tight, stopping my own from trembling, and together we sprinted across the beach after Akela and Kouris. A band of pirates charged our way and ran straight past, heading for Reis, asking them what they should do, and I heard Reis yell out, “Fire back, you absolute morons!”

Port Mahon had been hit by worse and would survive to see attacks more coordinated than this one, but it was easy to be swept up in the moment, as the other pirates were. Our cannons sounded from the look-out towers at each end of the docks, hitting Gavern's ship as hard as it had hit us, and though I saw more wreckage and rubble than spreading frames, it was almost impossible to not be dragged back into the past, deeper and deeper.

“Rowan!” Katja said, tugging me from the spot when I'd come to an abrupt halt. “Rowan, move. We have to help these people.”

The injuries were wide-spread, but far from grave. Part of the dock had been smashed wide open, splintering a tower of crates along with it, and the woman who kept a record of all the ships that came in and out of Mahon had her legs trapped under a chunk of debris that took five of us to lift. Katja knelt by her side, eyes closing as she helped ease the woman's shattered bones back into place, not staying for a second longer than it took to accept her thanks.

A handful of others were tending to gashes and broken bones, and they hobbled over as another cannonball flew overhead, striking the centre of town.

“Quickly,” I said, hooking my arm around Katja's the moment she was done healing those around her, eyes already darkening, and we set off through the streets, heads bowed low.

The pirates were out in their masses, roaring for more of a fight than they were being given. I heard one of our cannonballs punch through the side of Gavern's ship, but we'd already turned too many corners for me to see the ocean. At some point, Katja had taken the lead, taking me the long way around to whatever buildings had been reduced to rubble.

“Listen to me,” Katja said, stopping before she ought to have, hands on my shoulders. “You have to help me, Rowan. There are too many injured for me alone to handle, not without leaving them in pain. You have to do this.”

“Katja...” I said, trying to shrug her hands off, but her grasp was tight. “You're leaving them in pain now. Come on! Stop messing around.”

“Messing around?” The pitch of her voice rose and my stomach turned. “You can do this, Rowan. You can help them. Please.”

I tried to say something more, but her inky black eyes fixed on mine, rendering me speechless. That old, familiar sickness rose up within me and I realised she was doing it on purpose. Of course she was. And after all that I'd just said to her, after I wanted her to be the friend I'd first made so very much again. Why was she wasting time? Why did she care more about pushing me than rushing to help the others?

“... no,” I managed, pushing her arms away. She stepped forward as I took a step back, not about to let me leave, so I gripped the sides of her arms as tightly as I could and said, “No, Katja. I can't. I can't help them, can't help anyone. Just heal them, alright? No one's dead. I'll go—go help clear up. The ship's probably gone now, and... and you can handle this. I know you can.”

I'd started strong, voice raised to something that barely fell short of a shout, but it'd taken me mere seconds to feel my mouth turn dry. Katja didn't flinch. I hadn't frightened her, hadn't shocked her; there was nothing but disappointment in her expression, in the way she pried my fingers from her arms.

“You could be so much more, Rowan,” was all that she said, leaving me behind as she moved to help those I wouldn't.

The uproar from the docks told me that Gavern's ship had been bested. It was over as quickly as it had started. It was a warning, nothing more. I supposed we ought to have been grateful that Gavern wanted to rule Port Mahon, not destroy it.

Head spinning, I wandered towards what felt like the direction of the docks. I shouldn't have been so hard on Katja. She was taking on a lot by herself, and I hadn't been able to prove myself when she'd needed me. I'd apologise later. I'd tell her that she couldn't talk to me like that, couldn't force my powers out of me, but I'd apologise. We'd all let spite get the better of us at one point or another, and I wasn't about to forget the kindness I knew because of it.

Not a single soul remained inside. Pirates flooded the streets to assess the damage, and I went with the motion of the crowd, knocking into one person and then the next. I'd long since learnt not to apologise for bumping shoulders, but I stepped on someone's foot and they grabbed me by the shoulders.

I looked up, expecting to be issued a threat and warning all at once, but found a familiar face looking down at me.

“Atthis!” I said, pulling him into a quick hug. “You're alright! That last cannonball didn't hit too close to your place, did it?”

“It was a few streets off,” he said, placing a hand on my back and guiding me through the crowd. “Gods. Can't we go a day without some sort of ruckus? Either we're cutting off extremities or the sky's falling down on us.”

“Heading down to complain to Reis?” I asked.

Atthis laughed dryly and said, “Not in a thousand years. They scare me as much as I used to scare you.”

While Atthis tended to keep to himself and often left Mahon for weeks at a time as Kouris did, he always seemed to appear exactly when I needed him to. Without the crown resting heavy on his head, I found that he reminded me of my father, in quiet, unremarkable ways, and I calmed myself by measures as we headed down to the docks together.

The people around us huffed in disappointment as they sheathed their weapons, and once the streets widened and the dock was in sight, I looked back on Mahon and realised that the damage wasn't as bad as I'd imagined it to be. Not that the same could be said for Gavern's ship, or what remained of it: only the top half of the mast was above water, and the ships we'd sent out to attack it head-on seemed unscathed.

Reis was barking out orders across the dock and people were already starting to move the debris, dragging pieces of shattered walls and paths onto the beach. The work was made faster with Kouris' help, and I pushed through the crowds, wanting to hear what Reis had to say.

“A skeleton crew!” Tae scoffed, kicking the uneven edge of the path and wincing at the pain shooting through her toes. “What the fuck kind of insult is that? He sends a fancy goddamn ship out, and he don't put more than a dozen people on it!”

“Calm down,” Reis said, clouting her around the back of the head.

“Calm down? I was ready for a fight! I was ready to show that lot what's what, ready to make 'em really sorry for ever even thinking about coming near Mahon, and the bastard doesn't even send enough people for us all to have someone to stick a sword through,” Tae said, drawing her sword and throwing it on the ground. “And here was me thinking he called himself a pirate!”

Reis leant heavily on their cane as they watched Tae's dramatics, and the onlookers raised their brows, judging Tae to be as brave as she was stupid.

“Shut it, would you. Gavern's sending that ship to show off, to let us know that he's got a dozen more like it, all of 'em disposable, all of 'em with the same sort of firepower,” Reis said, “Take a look at what one ship's managed to do. Aye, no one's dead, but this is gonna take a while to repair, and we ain't going to be sending the Queen as much as I'd like this week. How does that make me look? How does that make Mahon look? You want people thinking we can't hold our own?

“I woulda said no, but it seems to me like you don't give a toss. Stop acting like a child, Tae. So you didn't get to stab anyone. You didn't have to throw any of our own into the sea, either. Didn't have to watch any of our ships sink.”

Tae opened her mouth to respond, and wisely snapped it back shut.

Bowing her head, she scurried off backwards, blindly helping with the clear-up, and for a moment, no one who'd brought news to Reis dared to speak.

“Well?” Reis asked, eyes scanning across the group surrounding them.

“Ah, Captain. Looks like we ain't lost too much within the town itself. One of the inns took a beating, but it's nothing we can't patch up,” someone called out.

Reis nodded, glanced out at the horizon and said, “If you need help moving anything, go find Kouris. The rest of you, get on your ships, sail out, and make damn sure that was the only ship the bastard sent.”

The crowd dispersed, and Reis stared out at the spot Gavern's ship had once been, taking deep breaths. Turning in order to head back to the hut, where they could better issue orders and plan ahead, Reis caught sight of Atthis and myself. They tilted their head towards us and said, “Oi, Atthis. You've got a good head on your shoulders. Fancy talking strategy? It's about time we struck first.”

“I can't promise that I'll come up with anything so refined as dismemberment, but I'll do what I can,” Atthis said, falling in step next to them.

None of us slept through the afternoon. The rumble in Port Mahon was loud enough to reach us, and I busied myself with making food and serving drinks as Atthis and Reis pored over maps of the land and sea alike, moving shells across them as though the pieces provided possible answers. The moment some semblance of a plan was drawn together, they immediately dismissed it, declaring it wouldn't work, and the fact that they were narrowing it down was of no comfort to them.

It was dark by the time Kouris returned, and Reis and Atthis had accepted that taking a break wasn't the same as giving up. Katja was with her, and I did my best to avoid her gaze, but she headed over to me before I could take refuge in my room.

“I'm sorry, Rowan. I truly am. I shouldn't have surprised you like that, to have demanded so much of you. You were right. Nobody was dead. I was able to heal them all,” she said in a whisper, shoulder pressed to mine as I focused on scrubbing the dishes clean. “But it's only going to get worse, isn't it? You need to accept that day will come when I cannot help, Rowan, and their fates will be on your shoulders. I do so hope you make the right choice, dear.”