A subdued moan vibrated Llew’s chest. She coughed. She lay, eyes closed, breathing gently. A few moments of peace. They’d had to fight. Llew had been fighting. That she was lying here, waking up like this, meant she had died. But the voices she was hearing … Lord Tovias and Jonas. Good news. They’d won, at least. But stupid Llew had got herself killed again.

  She raised a hand, pushed hair from her eyes, and blinked. She glanced around at those she could see. Gaemil was closest. Odd. She didn’t think he cared that much. Now and then she caught a glimpse of Jonas. He stood nearby. Of course, clambering down on the ground with her was a challenge for him these days, and she could look after herself. Just knowing he was okay was enough.

  The leaves of the Ajnai rustled above her, and she reached out for it, just to be sure she was fully healed before she dared touch anyone. A subtle hum of energy passed from the tree and through her skin.

  “As soon as you’re healed—” Gaemil’s voice was tightly controlled. “—you must help Anya.”

  “Anya?” Anya should’ve been safe in the house. But then, so should Jonas. Llew started to sit.

  Gaemil leaned over her, pressing her hand back to the bark under his leather glove.

  “What—?” Llew jerked against his grip, but it was too strong.

  “Has it stopped?” Gaemil asked gruffly.

  “Huh?” Llew knew what he meant, but she felt smothered, confused. But if Anya was hurt, Llew was no use until she was fully healed. She concentrated on the sensations beneath her palm. There were the usual bumps in the bark interlaced with the added tingle of ghi transference, fading, fading.

  “Has it stopped?” Gaemil repeated.

  Llew waited a moment more to be sure, then nodded.

  Gaemil sat back. “Now, save her.”

  Llew looked where he nodded. Anya must have been shifted, as she lay on the ground – not sprawled – peaceful. Llew reached out for the hand nearest her, grabbed the wrist, lifted it. The skin of Anya’s hand was red, blistered, burned, as if it had been gripped in a burning hand. Or a dead Syaenuk’s. But, no. No one would’ve let that happen, and Llew was under an Ajnai. She’d been moved. The Ajnai would’ve saved her. Then again, they had been fighting Turhmosian soldiers. Maybe one of them had been Aenuk. Regardless, whether it had been Llew or someone else …

  “What happened?” Her voice caught on the two words. She looked to each member of her audience, pleading for someone to say it wasn’t true and saw nothing there to ease her fear. With a resigned expression, Jonas simply shook his head. “I did this?” She knew.

  Jonas nodded.

  “No.” A sob thickened her voice. She knew, but she didn’t want to believe. She shimmied herself to sit straighter, and gripped Anya’s hand.

  Gaemil sat close, watching where Llew’s hands wrapped around Anya’s. Nothing happened, not even a faint tingle. Anya remained limp, lifeless. Her hand remained red and raw.

  “No. No. No. No.” Llew repeated it to herself – each version of the word becoming thicker in her throat – rocking on her seat as one half of her sought to run away from all this. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. But neither could she abandon her friend. Anya would never abandon Llew. She hadn’t.

  “Llew—” Gaemil started.

  “No!” Llew screamed, her dual anger and anguish unfiltered, even for an earl.

  Gaemil flinched back as if it had been directed at him. It wasn’t. It was for the world and its stupid rules. Llew could heal anyone, except Jonas. Well, no Kara, but the fact that included Jonas was the insult that mattered.

  But then, Llew had broken that rule. Jonas had died. And thanks to Llew, their baby, and the ancient Ajnai, he had lived again.

  Gaemil stood, turned on the spot, fists clenched. He looked like he wanted to unleash his own pain.

  Jonas hadn’t just died. He’d died twice. Once at Braph’s hand. Once under Llew’s. Llew had stolen life from him. And returned it. Surely, she could do that again. Yes, when she’d taken and returned life to Jonas, it hadn’t been to heal herself. She still didn’t know how that had worked, how she had taken and held Jonas’s ghi and returned it moments later. But neither did she know how the sun rose each morning, or how a bumblebee flew. She didn’t know how her body healed itself using ghi from elsewhere. It just happened.

  Llew had failed her father, absorbing his life as they slept. And she’d failed Cassidy by not waking in the night to revive him before it had been too late. She’d been too late for them. But Anya’s skin still held residual warmth.

  Llew pulled Anya’s hand to her chest, and pressed her other palm against the tree.

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  “Llew—” Jonas started, but Llew silenced him with a shake of her head. Yes, there were rules, and Llew hated them.

  “Help me,” she whispered to the tree and thought about what it felt like when ghi flowed through her, imagined pushing it through her arm, to the hand clasped around Anya’s. Nothing happened at first, but Llew didn’t let up. She could do this. It had to work.

  Nothing happened. The bark remained cool, her skin prickled with nothing beyond the air moving over the back of her hand.

  It had to work.

  Nothing happened for a few moments more, then the tree began to warm beneath her touch.

  “Yes,” Llew whispered, and opened herself to the tree.

  Something akin to the gentle pop of tiny bubbles began in her hand pressed to the bark, flowed through her chest and to her other hand. At first, there seemed to be resistance. The bubbly sensation bloomed into intense pins and needles and Llew’s skin felt tight. Then the pressure eased and power streamed through her and into Anya. About a minute later, Llew sensed the gentlest flex of Anya’s fingers. Llew squeezed back.

  “Is it working?” Gaemil asked.

  “I think so,” Jonas murmured, his voice laced with wonder.

  Llew closed her eyes and focused on Anya.

  Another minute passed and Anya gasped.

  A collective shuffle went through the group.

  Anya tried to pull her hand free and Llew clutched tighter. There was no autonomic reflex for this.

  Anya relaxed into the grip and sobbed. “I’m sorry, Llew.”

  Llew opened her eyes. What?

  Gaemil crouched beside Anya. “It’s okay, love. You saved her.”

  “What?” Anya looked at Llew, her arm at an awkward angle.

  “You saved her. And now she is saving you.”

  Anya looked alarmed. “Well, that’s enough.” She tried to tug her hand from Llew’s grip again. “I’m back. Don’t kill yourself for me.”

  Llew smiled and firmed her grip again. “It’s not me. It’s the Ajnai.”

  Llew looked up at the canopy again. More than half of the leaves had turned brown. Llew released Anya’s hand and pulled back from the tree.

  Gaemil pulled Anya into an embrace as Llew stood, still staring into the branches. She circled the tree. It wasn’t the ancient Ajnai Aris had felled. It was only months old. While its roots dug deep in the earth, it still lacked something that only came with time. Its power remained limited, and Llew had asked it to do what shouldn’t have been possible.

  Llew reached out to it again. She carried no injury, so nothing passed through that touch.

  “Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

  As before, the tree simply returned an acceptance of its role. Llew tried to convey a promise to be more careful, but the tree either ignored it or didn’t believe her. At least it wasn’t dead. Not fully.

  “Sir?”

  A guard addressing Gaemil drew Llew’s attention. Gaemil still held Anya, murmuring to her.

  “Tomas,” the soldier stated plainly, and gestured to a body in a matching uniform. One of Gaemil’s guards was down.

  Llew went to him, but he was lifeless. When she looked up, she was surrounded by the rest of the Gaemil’s guards. They all glanced Gaemil’s way but, while he looked back, he didn’t relinquish his hold on Anya, who sobbed into his shoulder.

  Llew directed the guards to carry their compatriot to another Ajnai. Taking up the guard’s hand in hers, she once again pressed a hand to the bark, well aware that her own heart wasn’t in it the way it had been when Braph had shot Jonas, or just moments ago when she pleaded with the other tree to bring Anya back. Llew didn’t know this guard, did not love him, but he would have a family, and he had died here, protecting Llew and her cause. At least, in his case, he had died of normal, if not natural, causes rather than having been drained by Llew, and he wasn’t Karan so, although subtle at first, Llew soon felt the ghi buzzing through her, flowing easily.

  Movement caught her eye, and she looked across to see Jonas ease himself down to the base of another tree, Elka beside him. He looked so tired. Despite the urge to go to him, Llew remained still, even after the guard gasped his first breath, until the sizzle of life stopped flowing through her. Then, ignoring the thanks and awe, she went to the tree one over from Jonas and sat, presenting her arm to Elka, her other palm pressed to the bark, ensuring she held no lingering injury to pass on.

  Rowan, Alvaro, and Karlani rounded up three of the Turhmos horses and led them to a paddock behind the house. The remaining horses followed, though one took an interest in Llew and Jonas, walking over to sniff at them before raising its head and tearing off a leaf from a tree. With a snort, it gave a small buck and took off after the others at a collected canter, luckily aware enough of its surroundings and bulk to neither kick Jonas nor Llew, nor topple Elka as it passed between them.

  Elka settled into a rhythm of extracting blood from Llew and pushing it into Jonas’s veins, and soon Jonas was looking across at Llew with a smile brightening his face.

  “Do you know what you’ve done?” he asked. “You’ve saved three lives and taken none. You’ve shown us the future.”

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