Chapter 3 The water god

He wasn’t the water spirit. He was a werewolf—but not one from our tribe.

He must have come from far away, because he was brown-skinned.

I was white, soft at every angle, and nothing like him.

He had blue eyes. Those eyes raked over me from head to toe, and his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear a thing. My gaze was stuck on his… his chest. And abs.

It wasn’t like I’d never seen a naked man before—I was a healer—but I had never seen a man like him.

“I know you can speak. I heard you talking to the water. Who are you?”

His snarl dragged me back to reality.

The water god seemed to have robbed me of my ability to speak.

He draped me in clothes I’d never seen before. Living at the border of war for most of my life, all I’d ever known were swords, rifles, and arrows—armor and shields.

“Follow me,” he ordered. His voice did that thing again—made my feet curl in response to the sound of it.

I followed him obediently.

To my surprise, there were so many people. I could smell blood—but more than that, I could smell food.

My water god handed me over to a pretty, chubby woman.

“Tell your girls to stay away from the water,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.

“You’re not one of my girls, but I’ve got work for you. Take this and follow me.”

I hesitated. It was easier to obey the water god than this woman, but she didn’t give me room to protest. She handed me the cleanest towels I’d ever seen—white and soft, bundled together. I later learned they were called bandages.

She led me into what I quickly recognized as an infirmary. The stench of blood filled the air, and wounded men lay on the beds—too many to count.

Fear gripped me. I was barely recovering myself. I couldn’t heal this many people. I would die. I’d run out of blood.

“Give those to her,” the woman said.

For a moment, I almost expected to look up and see Eva and her mother laughing at me—as if this were all some trick, and I’d fallen for it like the fool I was.

“Oh, you’re the weak sort,” the woman muttered. “Don’t throw up. I’ll find other work for you.”

It took me a few seconds to understand what was happening. She didn’t expect me to heal anyone. These people practiced a different kind of medicine—one I’d never seen before. They applied balms and syrup to wounds, then wrapped them in cloth and waited for them to heal on their own.

I looked around in awe, but the woman didn’t let me linger.

“Can you cook?” she asked, walking faster.

“No,” I replied.

“Can you clean?”

“No.”

She stopped and turned to face me, frowning. “What’s your name?”

“Healer,” I said automatically—then realized my mistake.

“Illa?” she asked. “You mean Ella? It’s pronounced E as in egg. Ella. You can’t even pronounce it right.”

She was funny. I realized I needed a name anyway.

“No, it’s Illa,” I said finally. It was a name that would remind me who I was, while still being someone new.

“Okay, Illa. What can you do for me before I fling you out of this battlefield?” she said, though her threat didn’t reach her eyes.

I could tell she liked me.

“I can learn,” I answered.

And I did learn—to clean, at least.

Cooking was magic; I could never grasp it. Cleaning was easier—practical. The only thing I had to measure was soap, and Chloe didn’t like wasting anything.

That was how I learned where I was. I was still at the borders, but I’d crossed to the other side. I didn’t bear the mark of any pack, so I was safe. These people took me in as one of theirs, and that simple life was enough for me.

I got food regularly, and whenever I was free, I stayed close to Chloe. She could do a lot of things, and I always learned from her.

I learned more than work—I learned who my water god really was.

He was the general.

General Luther Lion.

And he was magnificent.

I’d seen him twice since that first day. Both times, his eyes found mine, and both times I was rendered speechless. He was striking in or out of his armor. Unfortunately, I never saw him naked again.

“Let me see your hand,” Chloe said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I hid my fingers behind my back. “It’s fine.”

“Illa, let me see. It looks bad. I won’t have any of my girls falling sick while we’re in battle.” She scolded me in that bossy tone that worked on the others.

“I won’t fall sick,” I said stubbornly. I didn’t want her to see.

She’d noticed it—the scars where my palm was often cut open to draw blood. The captain had slit my wrist once, when he first got me, and I almost died. Since then, he’d only slit my palm. He didn’t need much blood—just enough to heal.

The wounds had healed, except the most recent one. But dipping my hands into water every day had opened them again, leaving my palms raw and ugly. Chloe had sharp eyes.

Warm, bold hands gripped mine from behind, forcing me to show her. I froze at the touch. I knew who it was.

My water god. The general.

Chloe bowed immediately, taking my hand from his. “General.”

I kept my eyes low. As much as I loved looking at him, I couldn’t do it so openly.

“Look up,” he commanded.

That voice—and the way it rippled through me. I obeyed instantly.

He studied the wounds on my palms, his gaze lingering on the scar along my wrist before meeting my eyes. I wondered what I’d say if he asked about it, but I was relieved when he didn’t.

Inste

ad, he said, “Always obey Chloe.”

Then he walked away.

I turned to Chloe. “Why are you afraid of him?”