“Sit quietly,” Natalin said, her voice carefully low.

The riverguard in front of her shook his head, his skin paling to white. “I-I’m sorry, mistress, I-I don’t think I c-can-”

“I know it hurts. Be strong.”

He groaned, his face twisting with agony. She bit back a sigh, stepping down the length of the cot.

She couldn’t exactly blame him for squirming. The man’s ankle was shattered horribly - a training accident, she’d been told. Bruises and scrapes weren’t uncommon, but this was more than a bit of rash from a fall that went wrong.

The well inside her stretched out as she reached for it, sliding one mental hand into the waves. She’d need power as well as finesse, if the bone was to be set right.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the murmurs from around her. The other seers wouldn’t be far. Ostensibly, they were supposed to be training her. Diviner Moulim was the healer in charge of the temple’s clinic that day, in fact. The morning’s lessons were supposed to have played out as a bell’s time spent healing the temple’s invalids under his watchful eye.

And yet, they’d all taken a step back, watching her work. She pushed away the irritation and the first, shameful hints of pride, focusing on bringing as much of her magic to bear as she could muster.

The stakes were higher, she knew. Even in the brawl on the docks a few weeks before, failure would just mean painful bruises and a lengthy period of recuperation with Gerd as her only company. Mistakes here, on the other hand, would mean a crippled riverguard and a blemish on Efren’s name.

Water brought life, she whispered to herself. It connected everything, flowing from the beginning to the end. Water was her birthright, along with everything in its domain.

She could feel it, coursing through his veins. Her mana bolstered him, rejuvenating and healing everything in touched.

Which only left…

Biting her lip, she moved, sliding her hands down onto his ruined ankle gently. He twitched, moaning, but she held on. Before he could pull away, she straightened the limb, wincing at the feeling of bone shifting under the skin.

He screamed, the sound strangled and bitten-off. The cry hadn’t yet faded when she plunged back in, mending the hurts she’d just caused.

Within seconds, the riverguard collapsed back down onto his cot, shivering faintly but still at last.

“Not bad,” a voice behind her said. She recognized Gerd’s gravelly, rough tone even as she spun, letting her hands slide free of her patient’s skin. The diviner stepped closer, offering the riverguard a smile. “You’ve improved.”

Natalin winced. His words might be polite, but he shot a look across the healer’s ward that would have sheared straight through steel. Moulim flinched, springing with a whirl of his silver-and-blue cowl to busy himself elsewhere.

“He’s not so bad off,” Natalin said, watching him go. “It’s just a broken bone.” She hesitated, glancing towards the door. “Ah...how long were you-”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Gerd said.

“I see.” So he’d watched, while she healed. Another assessment. Fresh irritation welled up inside her, punctuated by the dirt stains that still coated her pants and tunic. She shook her head, chasing the thoughts from her mind. “There’s no need to worry, steward,” she said, staring at the floor between them. “I know I’m supposed to meet Master-”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“I was thinking you might appreciate a bit of fresh air instead.”

Her chin snapped up. Her eyes locked on his, searching his face. Gerd wasn’t a young man. His face was heavily lined, his olive skin going grey and pale from too long spent indoors. His once-black hair was pure silver, clipped short to his scalp. And nowhere at all in the old man’s face did she see any sign that he was toying with her.

“That sounds good,” she said, fighting to keep her tone level. “But shouldn’t I- What exactly were you-”

“The representative from Hearthfire has informed me his young charge is becoming….restless,” Gerd said, shaking his head. At Natalin’s confused look, he paused. “His advisor. Antiel?” His eyes were sharp on hers. “Hearthfire is the clan tasked to look after the Flameweaver’s Sanctuary. Don’t tell me you’ve already-”

“I remember, I remember,” Natalin said, throwing her hands up. The seers around them were chuckling, fixing her with tolerant looks. She was too busy rolling over the new information in her mind to care.

Takio had a chaperone, too. The thought amused her more than it should have. Not such an adult, was he?

“He can be as restless as he likes, elsewhere. I don’t want him blowing up our temple. You’ll take them west, then. Out to Lohova, if you can make it there and back, but at least to-”

“What?” Natalin blurted out, cutting Gerd off. “You want me to do what?”

Gerd paused, his gaze suddenly far too knowing. “Well, I heard from somewhere that you like exploring the countryside.”

Natalin stiffened, her hands pressed tight to her sides. It had been three days since the welcoming banquet, and Gerd had said nothing. She’d hoped that he’d been too far in his drinks by then, that the night had been too full of excitement for him to remember.

Apparently not.

She shook her head hurriedly. “Listen, steward, I-I just-”

“Ah, well. It had to happen sometime.”

Natalin stopped. The irritation was still there in his expression, but it was hidden behind the wall of amusement that rose to the forefront.

Gerd reached out, patting her on the shoulder. “The Charred should see at least some of Ondria, after all. And...I suppose it is about time for the country outside Aramoor to properly meet its Ascended. I’ll worry less with him being there, anyway.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. She stared at him, expecting him to take back the offer at any second. He didn’t. She realized she was smiling, beaming at the steward.

“I- right. Yes, of course,” Natalin stammered. “I’ll just- I’ll just go get my things, shall I?”

“Don’t go into the deep waters, but mind the shoreline. Don’t stray across any of the shoals. Oh, I should get you a map of this season’s-”

“I’ve seen all the charts,” Natalin said, pushing herself upright. “Don’t worry, Gerd. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Have them back before night sets in,” Gerd said, crossing his arms.

His stern demeanor wavered as she planted a peck of a kiss on his cheek, slipping past him towards the door. “I will, I will.”

“If you get tired-”

“I’ll be fine!” Natalin called back over her shoulder, already half out the door. His sigh followed in her wake, but she didn’t turn.

Freedom. Gerd was finally, finally relenting and allowing her a looser rein. Her heart leapt, making her steps light as she raced back towards her room. She’d need her staff, if they were sailing. And a jacket to go over her undershirt. It would be cold out on the waves. She should bring something to eat, too, the thoughts in the back of her mind whispered. Lohova was a long way off, nestled into the isles west of Ondria’s capital. She’d be exhausted by the end.

Gerd probably knew that, too, and this was his own, vindictive sort of retribution for her disobedience. Her steps slowed. She’d have to spend the whole day with the Narai, too. And somehow, she knew that Gerd was aware of that as well.

Hesitating, she reached out, searching - and found Efren’s distant presence. He was nearby, she could tell. Totally engrossed with his sister, no doubt. She thought of calling him, but for what? To complain about her counterpart? To ask for his help in navigating the waters between Aramoor and Lohova?

No, Natalin decided. She’d be fine. And it was just one afternoon - surely she could manage that much time with the Charred and his caretaker. She was just being oversensitive, that was all.

She got to go out. Her excitement flooded back, drowning out the complaints and irritations that went with the sudden outing. Seers laughed behind her as she hurried down the hall, straight towards the intricately-carved door that marked her room. She paid them no mind.

Her thoughts were already out among the waves.