Page 60 of The Enemy's Daughter

I puzzle over how an injury like this happened—especially by his own hand, but I’ve been healing long enough to know that anything is possible.

“You’re lucky I’m good at my job. Everything seems to be holding. I’ll check it again in the morning, and if it’s still good and you don’t have a fever, you can go home.”

My mind is in a fog of questions as we turn to leave the room. “How did that not turn into an amputation?” I whisper just loud enough for Henshaw to hear. “The bleeding alone—”

“Clamps. I always have them with me.” He taps his breast pocket.

My mouth pops open. “You clamped, then repaired his radial artery? How?” I nod as the answer comes to me. “Right, this is your specialty. And what about his nerves? The radial must have been severed. Possibly even the median.”

Henshaw eyes me curiously. “I’m not a miracle worker. But I saved his hand.”

He did and it’s amazing. “And what about the bo—”

Caro sticks her head in the door as we reach it. “The men are back.”

Henshaw’s shoulders stiffen. An alertness enters his eyes. “Any injuries?”

My spine straightens.

“Some. One’s been shot, but it doesn’t seem critical from what I was told. The rest need minor wound care, maybe some stitches.”

The floor shifts under my feet. If someone’s been shot, that means there’s been fighting. I look at the people in the room. No one seems surprised. This was planned. “What’s going on?”

Silence.

“Was there an attack?” I ask louder. “Did it involve Tristan?”

Caro gives a small nod.

“Is he the one who got...” My voice wobbles. I can’t even say it.

“No,” Caro says. “Calm down.”

I can’t. “Where are they back from?”

What have they done?

She turns to Henshaw as if seeking his permission to answer. They share a look. “Hanook.”

I take an unsteady step back. This can’t be real. Tristan said he wouldn’t.

But he did.

I run out the door and Caro’s shoulder clips mine as I pass her. I throw her a startled look, amazed at her hatred for me. How stupid of me to think I could lower my guard around her. Around any of them.

“Isadora!” Enola calls from down the hall as I stagger my way to the stairs. There’s unmistakable concern in her voice.

I whip around to face her. “Tristan and some of the men went to Hanook. They just returned. Some of them are injured. Why is that, Enola? Why were they near the clans at all?”

As her face falls, the light in her eyes dims.

I flinch.She knew.

Backing up, I shake my head until my eyes water and I can’t stand to look at her any longer.

All this time Tristan was the fox. They all were.

I turn to run.

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