Far to the south, the tang of herbs and the faint scent of crushed petals still lingered in the air where Shaya had finished her work.
The light in Bener's room slanted through a narrow window, highlighting his pale face. His breathing was steady now, the pallor gone from his skin—the last traces of the poison and the aphrodisiac Briella had given him drawn out and destroyed.
"You know medicine?" Bener asked, his voice hoarse but tinged with curiosity.
"Yes," Shaya replied, her tone calm but confident. "I am a healer from Westalis."
"Westalis…" Bener murmured, rolling the name on his tongue. "We could use healers. Though… it will be dangerous. We're going to war."
The thought wasn't entirely selfless. In his mind, Shaya's presence would be good for Lara—another woman among a sea of hardened men. But what surprised him was how quickly Shaya agreed, smiling as if danger meant nothing to her.
