Page 95 of Echoes of the Raven
“It seems she’s bled a lot,” she says, “but I don’t think there’s damage to any vital organ. If there was, she’d be dead already. If they find Thoran, I think he can help her. Pray that they do.”
I close my eyes, and for the first time in many years, I find myself invoking Niamhara’s name.
Please, Goddess, let them find the healer, let him come and help her. I have not asked anything of you since…I shake my head.Please, Valeria does not deserve this.
When I open my eyes, I find the woman peering up at me.
She nods and offers me a gentle smile. “A prayer is the best thing right now. The girl needs it.” The woman presses a hand to Valeria’s forehead. “San Rafael keep her safe. She’s young, and it’s yet too early for her to enter the heavens. Guard her and spare her life for she may yet have much to do.”
I swallow thickly, unsure of what I am feeling. My chest is tight, and I think it is anger, but I do not know anymore.
Her hands move over Valeria’s hair, one finger tracing the streak of white hair. Peering back at me, she has a questioning expression on her face. Does she know that the youngest Plumanegra sister sports such a defining mark? If she does, I am not about to confirm any suspicions she may be harboring.
There’s a small knock at the door, and I dash to open it. I expect it to be the healer, but a young girl comes in with the tea the woman mentioned. She rushes in, places it on the table, and leaves in the same hurried manner.
The woman tries to make Valeria drink, but liquid spills down the sides of her mouth, proving a useless task. She straightens and turns to me. “No luck but keep trying. See if she’ll drink a little. It should help her with the pain. I’ll go see if they have word from Thoran.”
She walks to the door, and halfway out, glances over her shoulder. “My name is Francisca, by the way.”
When she leaves, I grab the teacup and sit at the edge of the bed.
“Drink,” I urge. “It will be good for you.” I press the teacup to her lips. Her mouth remains closed. “Do it for me.”
To my surprise, her lips part. I tip the cup and allow a little tea to dribble in. She closes her mouth again.
“Swallow, Valeria.”
Her throat works, and she swallows.
My breath catches as her eyes open for an instant, meeting mine. It happens so quickly that I think I have imagined it.
Hope, that terrible betrayer, glimmers in my chest.
She will be all right. She will make it.
A part of me does not think so. Not without the healer, anyway.
I stare at the door, willing it to open and let this Thoran in, but it remains shut. He is not coming and without him…
I don’t dare finish the thought.
Setting the teacup down, I am determined to try again in another moment. My hand moves of its own accord, and I caress the side of her face. I whisper her name, hoping the sound will anchor her to this world.
Several moments pass, my impatience building and building. I try the tea again, but this time she doesn’t drink it.
“Look at me, Valeria,” I entreat her.
But her eyes remain as tightly shut as her lips.
My desperation quickly switches back to anger—a more familiar emotion, and I am at the brink of going downstairs to demand someone bring me that damn healer when the door opens.
Francisca rushes in with a wart-covered dwarf, carrying a satchel slung across his chest.
Hells devour me!This is no fae healer, and if he is a healer at all, he must be a Nightmend, a savage with the worst kind of magic.
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