Chapter 5 The price of healing.

We had won the battle, but there was no rejoicing in our camp.

Chloe was dying. No one could put a finger on what was wrong with her. Words like “tests,” “hospital,” and “doctors” were being tossed around, but I didn’t know much about civilization, having lived most of my life on the borders.

They said the new civilization could save her—but that moving her might kill her. The General was to decide, though it wasn’t much of a choice. She might die either way.

Her condition worsened by the next night. Moving her was now impossible. The girls moved around in black clothes, mourning her already. Many wept.

“I didn’t realize you all love Chloe so much,” I said to one of them.

She gave a short, bitter laugh. “This isn’t love. Chloe’s death is doom for each of us,” she said through her tears.

“Why?”

“We’re not exactly Chloe’s girls. The Baroness owns us. She has two daughters—Chloe and Portia. Chloe never cared for her mother’s… business. She traveled the world seeking joy. Fell in love. Almost got married. But they found out she couldn’t have children, and his family rejected her. She came home furious, and the Baron’s house shook that day. The girls were split into two groups. Chloe refused to run her mother’s pleasure trade. Instead, we cleaned, delivered supplies, and cooked. We’re here because the war pays. We host parties and do whatever’s needed. But if Chloe dies…” she sniffled, “we go back to that hellhole.”

The words hit me like a thunderbolt.

I stared at my ugly hand. Could I repair a womb? I didn’t know. My blood had been mixed with potions and charms to heal all sorts of wounds and sicknesses. I had never heard of it failing.

“I’ll stay with Chloe tonight. I’ll watch her,” I announced.

I knew I’d promised to stop healing people. But Chloe was good. So was Zach—

No. I shook my head. That had been teenage foolishness. I was grown now. Seventeen, almost eighteen. I was an adult, capable of making my own decisions.

I just had to make sure I wasn’t caught. Too many lives depended on Chloe waking up.

I sat beside her and held her hand. It was warm, yet I could feel her life slipping away. Then it struck me—I’d seen something like this before.

It was poison. Someone had tried to kill her. If she woke up, we could catch whoever did it.

So many good reasons. So many risks. But Chloe was worth it.

I just needed something sharp to nick my hand—two drops of blood could heal her. Three might even fix her womb. I was willing to take the chance.

There was only one problem: there was nothing sharp in the room. I searched quietly, but all I found were clothes and books.

“What are you doing?”

That voice froze me.

This was bad. I must have looked guilty, rummaging through Chloe’s things. His tone was colder than I’d ever heard it before.

“You should wait until her body’s cold before you start stealing from her,” he said icily, his eyes burning with disappointment.

“I only wanted to find something warm to wear while I watched her,” I lied. Better that than admitting I needed a knife to bleed myself.

He didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care. The war was over; I’d never see him again.

The General sat beside Chloe, silent.

“She was poisoned,” I blurted.

His head snapped up. “How do you know?” He drew a knife from his boot, instinctively, though he kept it low. “Did you do it? Or did you see who did?”

A plan formed in my head. I needed that knife closer.

“If I did it, I wouldn’t tell you,” I said with a shrug, tossing Chloe’s limp hand carelessly.

Strong fingers fisted in my hair, yanking me backward. The blade pressed against my throat. Men were too easy to provoke.

“Talk,” he hissed.

I smiled faintly and lifted my ugly hand to the knife. The blade sliced my finger before he even realized my intent.

“You’re crazy,” he said through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing as he stepped back.

“I’ve seen this condition before,” I said quickly. “I’m sure it’s poison.”

I wasn’t sure he even heard me. His face was unreadable. Then he turned sharply and stormed out of the room.

At last.

I gave Chloe three drops and stopped the bleeding. My hand burned. I hadn’t recovered as well as I thought, but I was glad the deed was done.

I cleaned the space, putting everything back the way I found it—then the world tilted. My head grew light. My vision swam.

What was happening?

I had never felt weak from healing before. Fear gripped me as my legs faltered beneath me. I tried to stay upright—just long enough to see Chloe stir awake.

Her eyes flew open, wild and confused. Then she pointed at me with trembling hands.

“You. You poisoned me!”

Gasps echoed

behind me.

We had company.

Had I been set up?

My knees gave way as darkness took me.