I nodded as my heart skipped. This middle-aged wolven, with his head of ropey black-and-silver dreads had been the first to ask.
“Others are saying you fought beside him the entire battle.”
“I started on the Rise, but I did go down.”
“And yet, you’re here. You’ve been here this whole time, healing others,” he said, his pale eyes sharp. “With your touch.”
“How could I not when I can help?” And I had helped. Talia the Healer I’d caught a brief glimpse of, had her hands full with those who refused my aid. So, after the battle, I had taken the time to wash the blood from my face and hands, even though it was still caked to my clothing and dried under my fingernails.
He nodded as he let go of my wrist and laid his head back on the cot. “Kieran said you were of the empath bloodline.”
I nodded again.
“I’ve never seen an empath glow silver before,” he said. “And I remember them. I was a young boy then, and there was only a handful still alive, but I’d remember something like that.”
Wondering how old this wolven was, I said, “Jasper said the same.”
“Not surprised to hear that. He knows things,” the wolven said. “Except when to keep his mouth closed.
I smiled wearily. “That’s what I hear.”
“You must be descended from an old empath line.”
“What else could I be?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
“Yes,” he murmured. “What else?”
I looked over my shoulder, spotting Quentyn and Beckett moving among the injured and recovering. “Water and food are being brought. Is there anything else you need?”
“No.” The wolven eyed me as I stood. “But you should be careful, Princess.”
I stilled.
“I’ve watched the others watching you. Our Prince may have chosen you. You may have fought beside him and for them. You may have healed many of us,” he said with a voice full of gravel. “But they didn’t choose you, and many aren’t old enough to even remember the empath bloodlines. Those who are, remember what they could do—what they were called.”
“Soul Eaters? I can’t do that,” I said, even as my heart started pumping. “I can’t drain a person of emotion.”
“But they don’t know that.” His gaze shifted to the cots. “Is there someone here? To watch over you?” He started to sit up. “You shouldn’t be out here alone with the Prince—”
“I’m fine.” Gently, I pressed him onto his back. “I’m armed and can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that, but—” His features tightened, almost as if he were in pain, but I knew he wasn’t. “I shouldn’t say this. It’s damn near treasonous, but you healed me. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me.”
“It would’ve taken days, maybe even longer for me to heal that wound, and that is if I kept my arm. I’m a wolven, Princess. That does not mean I can grow back limbs.”
I glanced at the pale pink mark that nearly encircled the entirety of his biceps. The gods had to have favored him to keep that limb attached after that kind of injury.
“It’s pretty well known among the armies that once the King knew of the Prince’s plans to capture you, he began to make his own plans. I doubt he knows how much the Prince’s plans have changed, but his have not.”
A heaviness sat on my shoulders. “He plans to use me to send a message. I doubt I would be a message that was alive and breathing,” I said. “I know.”
“Then you should also know that Casteel is our Prince,” the wolven said in a low voice. “But Valyn, his father, is our King.”
“I know,” I repeated, fixing a smile on my face.
“Do you?”
The heaviness intensified as I nodded again. “You should rest. At least until Talia can confirm you’re healed.”
The older wolven relented, unhappily, but with one last goodbye, I roamed the edges of the makeshift infirmary, scanning the field and the banners embossed with the Atlantian Crest.
I could feel eyes on me.
I’d felt them the entire time I moved through the field.
But with all the pain that had been echoing around me, I hadn’t allowed myself to sense anything beyond the agony.
But they didn’t choose you.
I flinched as the wolven’s words played over and over in my head as I turned away from the field.