At least Josef would be there. He understood Liam and would be a strong ally if things got unpleasant. And Leetra was more than a match for the General’s harshness. After bonding over the summer, she was confident Leetra would step in to defend one of her brothers in Kyrin’s stead if the need arose.

  Liam looked between her and their mother. “Kaden knows what I’m doing, but could someone let Marcus know?”

  Kyrin nodded. “We will. If not today, I’ll see Jace in the morning and can let him know.”

  “Thanks.” Liam turned and let himself out.

  As the door closed behind him, Kyrin wrapped her arms around herself, fighting to ward off the chill creeping in at the fear of losing another member of her family.

  * * *

  Leetra rifled through all the herbs and vials that made up their medical supply. She gritted her teeth and forced a sigh out through her nose. If everyone had just caught a cold, they’d have plenty to work with, but Miner’s Fever? It didn’t help that she had no experience with this particular illness. They’d never had an outbreak in Arvael, but there were remedies her people used that may provide some relief. Problem was, they were on the other side of the continent.

  Leetra braced herself against the table and listened to the hoarse coughing around her. She should have been more prepared. She should have stocked up on the more potent remedies they used in Arvael. Not that they could cure this illness, but at least she would have had more to try.

  Pushing away from the table, she turned to face the dilemma that lay before her. While there were only six cots now, the number was bound to rise. She cast a narrow-eyed look at the soldiers in the corner—the cause of this entire mess. Dagren sat glowering at everyone—high and mighty pig. General Veshiron sat stone-faced. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him speak a single word since the attack. Maybe they’d be the next to fall to the fever. She scolded herself not to hope they would. She was a healer; she shouldn’t wish harm on anyone. In this instance, she would surely need Elôm’s help to banish such feelings. Elôm’s help and a moment of fresh air.

  She strode over to Josef, who tended one of the soldiers. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  The old physician nodded, and Leetra headed to the door. She grabbed her leather coat and let herself outside. The chill air usually didn’t bother her much, but today it seemed mockingly harsh, even for a crete. She quickly buttoned the coat and stuck her hands in her pockets. Doing what any true-blood crete would do, she headed straight toward the dragons gathered in a group at the edge of camp. There was almost no snow here in contrast to the rest of their surroundings. The dragons’ warm bodies melted it as fast as it fell.

  Her dragon greeted her with a chirp as she approached. It almost drew a smile from her but not quite. She walked to the dragon’s side and rested against her, her cheek pressed to the animal’s warm neck. The feel of smooth, warm scales both soothed and strengthened her. She didn’t say anything, just let the warmth radiate through her taut muscles.

  It was at times like this she missed home—missed her parents and siblings. Whenever the first snow fell, her father would take them to the ground where they would have snowball fights and build snow forts. She hadn’t gotten to be there for that this year. She could just imagine her siblings’ shrieks and her father’s deep laughter. Her heart squeezed inside her chest. She missed it.

  But even more than all of that, she missed Timothy. Somehow, he understood her better than anyone else outside of her family. He could see her most vulnerable parts, something that had once terrified her. Now she longed for his understanding and strength. She’d wanted to beg him to stay last fall, but she couldn’t stand in the way of his calling.

  Moisture pooled in her eyes and burned. She blinked hard and straightened resolutely. Timothy was not here. Her family was not here. She had a job to do—people to save. Elôm, I don’t have the resources I need, but please show me what I can do.

  She turned at the sound of footsteps. Darq, Glynn, and Talas walked toward her. Leetra locked eyes with her cousin. Talas had been spending most of his time with the Altairs, and she saw the toll Michael’s death had taken on him. From the start, they had been like a second family to him. She hated seeing her cousin hurt.

  “Don’t get too close,” she warned them when they came within several feet. Just because they’d never experienced the fever in Arvael didn’t mean they were immune.

  The three of them stopped.

  “How are things going?” Darq asked.

  Leetra focused on her captain and mentor. “It’s too soon to say how the soldiers will fare. There’s not much we can do to treat them. Maybe if I had more supplies from Arvael.” She shook her head. “There’s so little we can try.”

  “Do you want Glynn and me to go to Arvael for supplies?”

  Leetra sighed. “It would take you two weeks to get back here. Only Elôm knows what shape we’ll be in then. I don’t even know if we have anything that will work. If only we had the ingredients we would need for the remedy.”

  While they might be able to scrape together some, the important ingredients were rare and only found along the west coast of Arcacia. She knew of nothing in Dorland that could work as a substitute.

  “I’ll send a couple of riders,” Darq said. “Make a list of what you want. If nothing else, they can bring back food. We already have riders heading out to the surrounding towns to see if they have the remedy.”

  * * *

  Liam drew a cold breath into his lungs as he stopped at the door of the meeting hall. His grandfather was on the other side of that door. That shouldn’t make any difference. He wasn’t the coward the General always made him out to be. He’d proved that and had found his calling—his purpose in life. There was nothing his grandfather could say to change that.

  Even so, the tight knot in his stomach was the same he’d felt every time he had faced his grandfather as a soldier. Old familiar dread and fear mingling into a nauseous ache. He pulled his shoulders back and stiffened his spine. The General had no authority over him anymore. This time, his grandfather was the prisoner and at their mercy.

  Liam opened the door and strode inside. Familiar healing herbs scented the open space. Josef had cots lined up near the fireplace, each one occupied by a prone figure. Those soldiers had brought death to this camp, but as a physician, that was not his concern. Healing was, even if that meant caring for the enemy.

  He crossed the hall to the table where Josef worked and had his supplies organized. “I’m here to help.”

  The old man did not say a word, but the flash of pride in his eyes and firm nod were all Liam needed. Josef had been far more a grandfather and mentor to him than the General ever had.

  “I’m mixing a tea for their fevers,” Josef told him. “Why don’t you finish?”

  Liam accepted the task and took Josef’s place at the mortar and pestle. He knew exactly what to do here—what herbs he needed to add. It came so much more naturally than training drills and formations ever had. He chanced a glance at the General, who sat chained up with the others not far away. His grandfather was watching him. Did he have any knowledge of the skills Liam had learned since leaving the army?

  Liam focused on his work. Right now, it was all that mattered.

  Chapter Nine

  Jace pulled his blankets over himself and tried to get comfortable in his bed on the floor near the fireplace. Eight other men shared the cabin, including Marcus, and were in various stages of drifting off. Jace stared at the flames of the fire, struggling to quiet the unease that never completely faded. After only two days, he already missed Kyrin. It was too cold to stand outside and talk for long, so they barely spent any time together. He couldn’t wait for the week to pass, yet if anyone in his cabin fell ill, that week would begin all over again.

  Jace reached out as Tyra settled down next to him and stroked her back. Breathing out a sigh, he closed his eyes. However, his body fought relaxation, his mind too full. So, he turned to the one and only thing he knew he could do in this situation—prayer. He prayed for everyone who was sick or had been exposed. He even prayed for the soldiers. This camp had already seen enough death.

  Eventually, he must have fallen asleep because a sharp knock jolted him right back to consciousness. He lifted his head and listened. The knocking came again at the door, not loud but urgent nonetheless. The flames in the fireplace had died out leaving only glowing embers and darkness still cloaked the cabin. Heat shot through his blood. No one would be here in the middle of the night unless something terrible had happened.

  As the others stirred, Jace jumped to his feet and crossed the cabin to the door. Another knock came as he reached for the knob and pulled it open. Holden stood on the other side—a dark silhouette against the snow. Jace’s stomach caved in on itself at the taut, shadowed lines in Holden’s face.

  “Rayad is sick.”

  The words cut into Jace like a knife blade. He stood frozen for a moment before he spun around to find a warmer shirt and his boots. The others were awake now, either standing or sitting up in their beds. Jace caught Marcus’s remorseful gaze. Even though he repeated Holden’s words in his mind, every fiber of him wanted to deny their truth.

  Back at the door, he grabbed his coat, but Holden held up his hand.

  “He doesn’t want you to come and expose yourself to the fever.”

  “I need to see him.” Jace stepped outside and strode toward the other cabin. No danger would keep him away. He struggled to breathe in the frozen air. Please don’t let him die.

  When he entered the cabin, Josef was there, but Jace focused on Rayad as he approached the bed. Even in the dim light of the cabin, the sheen of sweat on Rayad’s forehead and the red splotches on his neck were apparent. Jace met Rayad’s fever-glazed eyes.

  “Jace.”

  He already sounded weak. Another stab pierced Jace’s heart. Rayad was the only father he’d ever had. He knelt down next to Rayad’s cot, opposite of Josef.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Rayad told him.

  Jace shook his head. “You’d come if I was sick.”

  Rayad didn’t respond, but Jace knew it was true. He looked up at Josef. “What can we do?”

  “I’m brewing a tea.” Josef nodded toward the fireplace. “Hopefully it will help bring down the fever. That is the greatest concern.”

  Jace gritted his teeth and breathed out slowly. Tea. That was all they could do? He tried not to let his fear reach his expression and forced himself to remember that, if nothing else, Rayad was a fighter. They’d been through life and death situations before. But this was not a foe either of them could fight with their hands, and that left him frustratingly helpless.

  Rayad reached up and touched his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but his look said he understood Jace’s internal struggle. They were both powerless. Elôm, please don’t take him. Not yet. Elôm willing, Jace would one day soon make Kyrin his wife, and Rayad had to be there. He’d helped shape Jace into the man he was today—a man who could even hope for a life with a woman as wonderful as Kyrin. He owed Rayad everything.

  Josef stayed another half an hour before he prepared to leave. He gave Jace the extra herbal mixture to make more tea when it ran out and instructed him to keep cold snow compresses on Rayad’s head and neck to try to bring the fever down. Jace joined him at the door as the physician slipped on his coat.

  He hesitated a moment, afraid to speak, but needed answers. “What are his chances?”

  Sympathy shone in Josef’s pained eyes as his head shook slightly. “I’m afraid that’s impossible to answer. I know of nothing that clearly distinguishes why some live and others die. All I can say is that it’s in the hands of Elôm.”

  Jace nodded. If only he were more comforted. “Thank you.”

  “Keeping him cool and prayer are our best weapons against this. Just send for me if he gets worse.”

  * * *

  Jace watched dawn break over camp from a chair next to Rayad’s cot. Holden and Elian had taken turns sitting up with him. Though Rayad slept, it never seemed very restful. At least the fever hadn’t grown worse. But it hadn’t lessened either.

  After a while, Holden started breakfast. Stretching his sore back, Jace got up and grabbed a basin to gather fresh snow for Rayad’s compresses. Once he’d changed them, he accepted a plate of eggs and slice of toast from Holden. He could have eaten twice what was on the plate, but everyone had started cutting back to conserve food. What would they do if the fever continued to spread and they ran out of supplies?

  Shortly after they finished, Liam entered the cabin. He cast a glance at Rayad as he pulled off his coat. “How is he?”

  Jace rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, fighting discouragement. “The same.” It wasn’t that he had expected any improvement overnight, but he had prayed for it.

  “Josef sent me to check him. Leetra also made up broth for the sick.” Liam handed Jace a canteen.

  Jace brought it to the table and poured some of the warm liquid into a mug while Liam walked over to Rayad’s cot. By now, Rayad had awakened. He greeted Liam quietly and offered Jace a hint of a smile when he joined them.

  “Do you feel up to a little broth?” Jace asked. One of the keys would be to keep Rayad’s strength up and not let his body weaken from lack of nourishment.

  Rayad nodded slowly. “That sounds good.”

  Liam arranged a blanket under Rayad’s pillow so he could sit up, and Jace carefully helped Rayad raise the mug to his lips. Rayad took a couple of sips and sighed, then started coughing. Jace waited for it to subside before offering more broth. He clenched his teeth as the pit of his stomach squeezed. It was so hard to see Rayad in such a weakened state.

  Once the mug was empty, Rayad thanked Jace but seemed to be slipping toward unconsciousness again. Jace removed the blanket to let him lie down and replaced the compresses. Straightening, he turned to Holden. “Will you watch him for me for a few minutes? I need to go see Kyrin.”

  Holden nodded, and Jace grabbed his coat before letting himself outside. The cold air was invigorating, but weariness had taken hold of him that not even fresh air could erase. With Tyra at his side, he waited not too far from the Altair cabin. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and Kyrin stepped out. She approached him with a slight smile on her face, but it disappeared, her expression morphing into fear.

  “Is it Marcus?”

  Jace shook his head. “Rayad.” He hated giving her bad news.

  Kyrin’s gloved hand went to her chest. “Rayad?” She drew a hard breath, her eyes tearing up.

  “Holden came to get me during the night.”

  “How is he?”

  “He has a fever and is weak already.” Jace shrugged his shoulders, the powerlessness gripping him like a vise again. “There’s really nothing we can do but try to keep the fever down. And pray.”

  “Jace, I’m so sorry.” She blinked hard, but determination overcame her face. “I’ll come and help you take care of him.”

  “No,” he said quickly. The thought of her anywhere near the sickness left him cold. “I just need to know you’re safe.” He’d told her same thing in Dorland last summer.

  Her shoulders drooped. “I just wish I could help.”

  “I know. But the fewer people who are exposed, the better.”

  “You probably want to get back to him. We’ll be praying,” Kyrin promised.

  “Thank you. I’ll come out again after lunch and let you know how he is doing.”

  * * *

  Kyrin returned to the cabin and closed the cabin door slowly, the emotions so heavy inside her that she wasn’t sure what to do with them. She’d prepared herself for the possibility of Jace having to tell her that Marcus was sick, but she had not expected nor prepared for his news this morning. Her heart ached for him.

  She pulled off her coat, her arms feeling weighted, and hung it on a peg before facing her family—her mother, Kaden, and Ronny. Only the four of them in the cabin. She cleared her throat, swollen with held-back tears. They all seemed to notice that something was wrong at the same time.

  “Rayad is sick,” she told them.

  Their faces registered shock.

  “With the fever?” Kaden asked.

  Kyrin nodded, biting her lip to keep her tears at bay. She might not be with Jace, but if nothing else, she desired to be strong for him. “He fell ill last night. Jace is with him.”

  Her mother must have seen the struggle in her expression and stepped forward, pulling Kyrin into her arms. Kyrin hugged her tightly and closed her eyes against the intense burning of tears. Why is this happening, Elôm? They’d faced so much already.

  “Jace won’t let me, but I wish I could go over and help him,” Kyrin said, her voice cracking.

  “I know.” Her mother rubbed her back and then released her. “We just need to pray.”

  Kyrin nodded and joined her brothers at the table. That’s when she noticed the fretful storm brewing in Kaden’s eyes.

  “Rayad wasn’t one of the men we thought were exposed,” he said, “so that means . . .”

  Kyrin drew in a heavy breath and let it out slowly. “Anyone could get sick.”

  * * *

  Daniel stepped outside, fighting back a shiver. Right about now, he missed the fur-lined cloak he used to have at the palace. Not that he would have been out and about in this weather were he still there. In his old life, he’d probably still be in bed, sleeping the morning away.

  Well, he wasn’t that lazy bum anymore. He set out for the wood pile. Usually Aric brought in their firewood, but he was perfectly capable of the chore. It would give him something to do at least. Everyone was adamant he stay clear of anyone who might spread the fever. Such precautions seemed to consist of him staying cooped up in his cabin all day. Surely a trip to the wood pile wouldn’t put him in too much danger. Balen hadn’t tried to stop him at least. The king was as restless as he was.