His sarcasm grated deeply on Jace’s already frayed nerves. The man didn’t take them seriously, never mind the lives they had saved over the years.

  “I’ll give you what you pay for,” Alex continued, “which will be more than enough for Daniel and King Balen. Beyond that, you’ll have to come up with a way to pay for whatever more you want.”

  Jace clenched his fists under the table. How would they ever choose who received the remedy and who didn’t? He could see Rayad and several of his other closest friends refusing it so that others could have it. Refusing it and dying. And if they made this deal now, they would have nothing more to bargain with. No chance of getting any more of the remedy.

  As a last-ditch effort, Jace said, “What about Prince Daniel? As rightful king, would you refuse him what we need?”

  For a long moment, Alex stared at him, and Jace prayed desperately he would relent.

  In a low voice, Alex finally spoke. “Daniel may be the rightful king, but I am a smuggler outside of the law. I am not bound by a king’s commands.”

  This declaration felt like a blow to the gut as the last of Jace’s withering hope died.

  “Now,” Alex said, “unless you’re willing to do business on my terms, my men will show you out.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, the air around them growing heavy with tension. Finally, Aaron stood and picked up his bag of money. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to give up their only bargaining piece just yet. Jace followed more slowly, every muscle taut. Part of him wanted to stay and fight, but that wasn’t the way. This was not an instance where he could fight to save the lives of those he loved. And that was the worst part.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daniel stepped out of Trask’s cabin and released a heavy sigh into the frigid air. The meeting that had just concluded consisted of only himself, Trask, Balen, Sam, and Captain Darq. Nearly half the camp was sick now, including Warin. Daniel could sense the underlying panic that threatened to overtake their community.

  That panic weighed heavily on his mind as he set out through camp. He glanced at the sky that seemed to be in as bleak a mood as he was. “I have no idea what to do, Elôm. I want to help these people—my people—but I don’t know how. Please, give Jace and Holden success in Valcré. We need that remedy.”

  By the time he finished his prayer, he stood at the door of the meeting hall. He opened it and stepped inside, scanning the room. It was nearly full now with the sick. The only ones not lying on cots or blankets on the floor were their remaining physicians and volunteers as well as the only two soldiers who had not fallen ill. One of them was General Veshiron. It couldn’t be pleasant to be surrounded by sick people day after day, but they were the ones who had brought the fever here. Daniel couldn’t summon much in the way of sympathy toward them.

  All thoughts of the soldiers vanished in a blink when his gaze caught on one of the volunteers. Elanor sat beside one of the cots, dabbing a cloth over Josef’s face. Daniel admired her bravery. Here she was in the thick of things when others in camp went out of their way to keep their exposure to the fever at a minimum. A woman like that would make a great queen one day . . .

  However, such a future was a long way off, especially considering their current plight. Even so, she had a way of brightening his spirits. He felt rather foolish at how distracted he’d been by her just after arriving in camp last summer and hoped no one had noticed. After all, he’d been exhausted, in pain, and still half-dazed by everything. At least that’s what he told himself.

  Setting her cloth aside, Elanor reached up and brushed a couple of strands of dark hair out of her face. Daniel drew his brows together. Her face looked pale in the candlelight, her expression sagging with weariness. His stomach turned to rock. What if she was falling ill?

  He strode across the room. “Are you all right?”

  Her head snapped up in surprise. “Daniel.” She then nodded. “I’m all right.”

  His gaze dropped to her neck. Though there was no sign of the telltale rash, his concern didn’t subside. Before he could stop himself, he pressed his fingers to her forehead, and then to her cheek. It was warm, but not overly. Warm… and soft. His heart gave his chest a powerful thud as memories of their first kiss the other day rushed to mind. He met her gaze, and a small smile lifted her lips.

  “Your fingers are cold.”

  He jerked his hand away. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Even though they had kissed, he should be more careful about taking such liberties.

  Her smile widened. “That’s all right.”

  Daniel cleared his throat, his own face and neck a bit warm. He looked around the hall in an attempt to compose himself. He’d always been so good at flirting… too good. So why did he find himself so awkward and stupid with her? Maybe because it had never mattered with anyone else.

  Regaining some semblance of control, he turned back to her and smiled. “Do you want to have lunch with me?”

  Elanor’s brows lifted, and she cast a glance at Josef, who lay unconscious on the cot next to her.

  “I think he would agree that eating and taking a break now and then is a good idea to keep you healthy,” Daniel said.

  Elanor’s smile returned. “You’re right.” She stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  She crossed the room to Leetra. Apparently, the crete had taken over in Josef’s unplanned absence. When Leetra nodded, Elanor retrieved her coat and turned back toward him. He met her in the middle of the hall and offered his arm. Her brows lifted again.

  “What? Even if it’s just a simple lunch with Trask and Anne, a lady should be properly escorted.”

  Elanor laughed lightly, a wonderful sound in this gloomy place. He loved that she still held so firmly to hope.

  She slipped her hand around his arm and squeezed gently. “Thank you.”

  Daniel grinned and led her outside.

  * * *

  Liam hadn’t been so bone-weary since the battle in Samara. There were far too many sick now and barely enough volunteers. Elôm would have to provide superhuman strength to care for everyone. Between administering tea and changing compresses, he barely had a moment to catch his breath.

  As he returned to the table for fresh tea leaves, a loud metallic banging grabbed his attention. He looked to the only two soldiers who had not fallen ill yet—the General and one of Dagren’s men. Dagren’s soldier slammed his tin cup against the floor and sent Liam a scowl.

  “When are we going to get some food?”

  It was past noon now, and they’d been so busy that Liam hadn’t even eaten yet. Their prisoners were the last people on everyone’s mind, especially when there wasn’t much food to go around.

  Liam ignored the man and his incessant cup banging. There were more important things to worry about.

  “Did you hear me, boy? I said when are we going to eat?” The soldier sneered. “Or are you too slow to understand? I heard that’s why you were never a good soldier.”

  Liam gritted his teeth and fought back the reaction to the man’s words. He knew better now, but such insults did still carry a bit of a sting and bring back memories.

  The soldier slammed his cup down harder, threatening to give Liam a headache. He could only imagine how it would disturb those here clinging desperately to life. Before he could respond, a firm female voice cut through the racket.

  “Enough.”

  Liam looked over to see Cassie standing there, hands planted on her hips, glaring down at the soldier. His first instinct was to back her up, but she appeared to have the situation well handled.

  “There are people dying here, thanks to you, and we are doing everything we can to save them, including your comrades. Instead of complaining, be thankful you are not yet one of them, and keep in mind, that the man you seem bent on insulting is one of the physicians who will be tending you if you do fall ill.” Her eyes flashed and shifted to Liam’s grandfather. “And you, General, you may be a prisoner, but you are still a general. I expect you to keep your men in line.”

  Liam had never heard anyone speak to the General that way before. It was one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen. He just stared at her as she gave the other soldier one last warning look and then turned to Liam.

  “Why don’t you check on Josef? I’ll put more tea on.” Her voice and manner had returned to its normal, gentle tone.

  All Liam could do was nod. As he turned away to check Josef, he heard the General order the other soldier in a low voice, “Not another word.”

  Despite everything, Liam couldn’t help but smile.

  * * *

  Kaden trudged through the snow, his hands stuffed in his pockets. While he wanted to spend every moment near Kyrin, he loathed the inaction. He felt so helpless sitting there. He needed to do something. Not that there was much to do in this situation, but he could make it a habit to check on his men at least once a day. He did still have that responsibility even if his personal life had been turned upside down.

  He’d just left the last cabin his dragon riders shared. Several of them had fallen ill—some doing well and others in more serious condition. He glanced at the meeting hall-turned-infirmary. Indignation stirred inside his stomach like a spoiled meal. If the soldiers had never attacked—if his grandfather had never led the attack—Michael would still be here and Kyrin and so many others would not be fighting for their lives too.

  With these thoughts still brewing like a storm inside of him, he veered to his right and came to the cabin Jace shared with some of their friends. He’d made a point of checking on Rayad while Jace was away. It was the least he could do. When he stepped inside, he surveyed the occupied beds. Besides Rayad, Mick and Elian were sick now. None of the three were conscious, though Elian didn’t appear as sick as some. What would happen if more people fell ill than there were healthy people to care for them? They already felt stretched thin. He shook the thought away. No use borrowing more trouble. He just prayed Jace and Holden returned soon… with the remedy.

  Kaden quietly crossed the cabin to join Trev who sat between Rayad and Mick. Tyra lay on the floor near Trev’s feet and looked up at Kaden with eyes that seemed to share his concern. Kaden reached down to rub her ears but grimaced at the sight of Rayad’s gaunt, fever-dampened face. “How is he?”

  Trev glanced at him. The shadows and redness of his eyes proved that he hadn’t slept much in the last couple of days. Kaden doubted his own appearance was any improvement.

  Trev shook his head regretfully. “Weaker. It’s getting harder to keep him hydrated. He hasn’t been awake at all since yesterday.”

  Kaden grabbed an empty chair to set near Trev and sank down with a heavy sigh. “What has Leetra said?”

  “There’s nothing we can do but try to keep him cool and get as much liquid into him as we can.”

  Kaden watched Rayad in silence, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. It appeared difficult for him, and a wheezing came with each breath. Kaden had heard that a couple of the sick members of camp were starting to get better, but he could find no such improvement in Rayad. His stomach clenched as reality settled. Rayad wouldn’t get better. Not without the remedy. If Jace and Holden didn’t make it back soon . . .

  Kaden cleared his swelling throat. Ever since his father had died, Rayad had been something of a father figure to him. He wasn’t ready for such a loss. Especially not with Michael gone so recently.

  Kaden stayed for a while longer, talking quietly with Trev and helping in any way he could, though it mostly involved sitting and waiting. Finally, when it neared suppertime, he took his leave.

  Stepping back out into the freezing air, he looked around. He stared at his cabin a moment, but still felt he had things to work through before he could go back to sitting and waiting for the evening. Aric had been there when he’d left. He would come to get him if Kyrin’s fever spiked.

  So he started walking again. Rayad’s condition weighed on him. He passed the meeting hall, and the anger toward his grandfather swelled once more. But it wasn’t necessarily the anger he found so difficult to deal with—it was the bigger questions it led to.

  He had prayed more in the last few days than he probably ever had before but, as more and more fell ill, it grew more difficult. I don’t get it, Elôm. I just don’t understand any of this. And that was what was so hard. How could this fit in Elôm’s plans? Wouldn’t things be better going forward if they were stronger, not weaker? Kaden shook his head, suddenly wishing Timothy were here. He could use his friend’s spiritual wisdom right now.

  Still struggling with the why of it, he paused near the edge of camp where the soldiers had first attacked. Fresh snow had erased the signs of the struggle, but it couldn’t erase how it had affected all of them. What purpose could Elôm have in allowing such an attack? Or in letting it further devastate them with this fever? He breathed hard and tried to blink away the burning in his eyes.

  Snow crunched behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as Marcus joined him. They nodded to each other and then just stood in silence for a moment as they both stared into the trees. Working down the lump in his throat, Kaden finally asked, “How are your men?”

  “We lost two this morning.” His voice was low and it sounded to Kaden like his throat was thick too.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  Marcus nodded slightly. “What about your men?”

  “Hanging on for now, but I don’t know how long that will last.” Kaden glanced at the sky, longing to see Jace and Holden’s dragons appear.

  Again, silence fell between them. Kaden didn’t intend to speak his thoughts out loud, but they came anyway.

  “How many of us do you think will be left once this is over?”

  The question hung heavy in the cold air. When Marcus didn’t answer, Kaden looked over at him. His older brother’s face was set with the look of calm determination that Kaden was used to, but his eyes gave away his shared uncertainty. It took another moment before he spoke.

  “I don’t know.” There was nothing optimistic about it, just a quiet, painful honesty. He took a deep breath as if strengthening himself and turned to Kaden. “But enough to carry out Elôm’s plans, whatever they may be.”

  Kaden stared at his brother for a long moment. He still read the questions and uncertainties that battled within him—the same ones Kaden struggled with—but, despite them, Marcus had accepted this as Elôm’s will, and there was peace in that. It bolstered the weak areas in Kaden’s faith, and he nodded firmly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  All night long, Jace tossed and turned, sleep coming in rare snatches as he struggled to find a way—any way—to get the remedy from Avery. After the meeting, Aaron and Ben had discussed where they could get more money, but the facts were undeniable. They couldn’t get more, at least not enough for what they needed. There just weren’t enough people in their congregation with anything to spare.

  Images of Kyrin and Rayad lying at camp, sick… dying, tormented him when he tried to sleep. He reached out to Elôm constantly, but it didn’t alleviate the fear coursing through him like a violent, icy river. He had to figure something out. He could not let them die.

  When dawn arrived, Jace slid out of bed in one of Ben and Mira’s guest rooms and trudged downstairs. His entire body felt heavy with the lack of sleep and weight of his concerns. Voices drew him into the living room. Ben and Holden sat near the fireplace, their low tones echoing their helplessness.

  “Has Aaron come by?” Jace asked as he joined them. Knowing Aaron, he hadn’t slept much either, and he’d mentioned something the night before about visiting some friends to find out if they could share any funds. Jace prayed this would yield something, but doubt had a firm hold on him this morning.

  Ben shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Silence fell. Without good news, there didn’t seem to be much to talk about. After a moment or two of mulling over his thoughts, Jace asked, “How quickly does the fever kill?”

  Ben and Holden both looked at him. It wasn’t really a question he wanted answered, but he had to know. Ben appeared as reluctant to share the answer as Jace was to hear it.

  “How soon do infected people usually die from it?”

  Ben let out a heavy breath. “It is highly dependent on the person and their health to begin with. Younger, healthier people have held on for two weeks or more. For others, it’s been three to six days. Quicker if they were in poor health prior.”

  Jace gritted his teeth. Rayad wasn’t in poor health other than his wound from the attack, but he wasn’t young either. Six days had already passed since he’d fallen ill. An ice-cold stone formed in Jace’s stomach and worked its way up to lodge in his throat. Rayad was already on borrowed time, if he was alive at all.

  He pushed to his feet. “I’m going for a walk.”

  Sitting here waiting would drive him mad.

  Holden rose as well, but Jace held up his hand. “I think I’d like to go alone.” He had things to think about and consider—things to do if all went as he hoped and prayed they would. Things it would be easier to do without Holden’s influence.

  Slowly, his friend returned to his seat. “Be careful out there.”

  “I will,” Jace replied quietly as he turned for the door. He was far more afraid of what was happening back at camp than the dangers of Valcré’s streets.

  At the front door, he pulled on his coat and gloves and buckled on his sword before he let himself out. The cold blasted him after the warmth of being near the fire, sending a shiver down his back. He glanced up at the sky. A peek at the sun or the slightest hint of its warmth would have been a welcome and almost hopeful sign, but dark gray clouds choked out any hint of it. He pulled his collar close against his neck and set off away from the house, resting his hand on his sword hilt.

  Careful to scan the streets for any danger, Jace headed in the direction of the taverns. He tried not to think too deeply about what he had in mind. If it could save Kyrin, Rayad, and the others, he had to do it. Still, an ache grew inside his chest around his heart. He forced it down. This could be Kyrin’s only hope for survival. How could he not take it?