Her bottom lip trembled. “The mud isn’t working at all, is it? You’re getting worse and you don’t want me to know how horribly sick you are.”
He tried to laugh. “Do I really look that bad?”
“Yes, actually, you do.” She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to meet her serious gaze. “Are you dying?”
“We’re all dying. We’re mortal, remember?” He tried to maintain his grin, but found it took too much strength. “All I have is Bruno’s assessment, which is that I don’t have much longer, not that he knows anything for sure.”
Her jaw tightened, and Jonas could tell she was fighting to appear resolute. “So we need to focus on finding someone to help you.”
“If we happen upon someone, yes. But my first priority is to get to Limeros and kill Prince Magnus.”
“And my first priority is fixing you—and it should be yours as well.”
He snorted. “You really think I’m worth saving again after all the trouble I’m responsible for? Things would be a whole lot easier for you without me around.”
Anger flashed through her dark eyes. “You’re really this big of an idiot? Have I been traveling with a complete and utter moron all of these months?”
Her outrage was strangely endearing to him. “Gee, Lys, your honeyed words are so soothing to my—”
Before he could finish, she pulled him to her and kissed him, hard and deep. Suddenly the pain in his arm and the numbness in his hand fell away. He weaved his right hand into her mass of dark curls and pulled her closer.
“I’m in love with you, you stupid arse, and I’m not losing you. Got it?” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again.
Her confession had stolen his breath, so all he could do was nod.
“Now, once again, how do we fix you?” she asked, when they finally parted.
To be honest, he had nearly given up hope that he might find a way out of this problem. But Lysandra’s stubbornness, her devotion, and her friendship had given him new determination to fight to see another day.
He took a deep breath. “We need to find a witch.”
She nodded firmly. “Then we’ll find a witch.”
• • •
They left the campfire right away and pressed on through northern Paelsia, finally stopping at a village a few miles over the border in Limeros that had several inns and taverns at its center, surrounded by other shops and its residential area. It was the first sign of life and community the pair had seen in over a day. It had grown much colder during their journey, and the ground here was covered in a thin layer of frost and ice, a few snowflakes drifting down from the cloudy night sky.
Lysandra disappeared for a short time to scout a few cottages, returning with some warmer clothes. He noticed she’d replaced her dirty and torn rose-colored dress with a new pale yellow one.
“Where did you get all this?” he asked as she tossed him a warm leather cloak.
“The same place I got this.” She pulled out a small drawstring bag and shook it so he could hear the clinking of coins.
He couldn’t help but grin. “I’m impressed.”
“Now let’s go get you healed.”
She gently took his hand and helped him into the nearest inn. Even at this late hour, it was busy with customers eating dinner huddled by the blazing fire.
Jonas adjusted his eye patch as Lys placed a few coins on the innkeeper’s counter. “What will this get us?”
The innkeeper pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “This is plenty for a night’s stay in a comfortable room for you and your . . .” He frowned at the pale, sweaty Jonas.
“Husband,” Lys provided.
“Husband. Yes. And you’ll get a fine dinner out of this, too.” He spoke pleasantly, but the innkeeper’s forehead remained creased. “Young lady, pardon me for saying so, but your husband looks rather ill.”
“That’s because he is rather ill.” She placed two more silver coins on the counter. “Which is why we’re also looking for someone to help him. We need someone with very particular, very special abilities, and we’re willing to pay very well for information.”
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “Special abilities?”
Lys leaned closer to the man and lowered her voice. “We need a witch who is extremely skilled with earth magic.”
The man stepped back, sweeping a cautious gaze over Lys and Jonas. “A witch? My dear girl, you know you’re in Limeros, don’t you? This isn’t Auranos; our laws regarding witchcraft and dark legendry aren’t so relaxed. The king imprisons—often executes—anyone accused of witchcraft, and he doesn’t look fondly on anyone who helps them in any way.”
Jonas turned to the dining room and noticed a few people shooting curious looks their way. He homed in on one in particular: a woman in a black satin cloak, her face concealed by shadows.
“Forget it, then. We don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” he said. Then Lys squeezed his hand, hard. “Ouch!”
“Sir, I understand the risks but we’re willing to take them,” Lys said. “You see, we’re only newly married and . . . and I’m already with child.” Tears brimmed in her brown eyes. “I can’t lose my darling husband so soon. I need him, don’t you see? I’m lost without him to protect me and care for me. Please, I’ll do anything to heal him. Anything, you understand? Please help us.”
Jonas couldn’t help but be impressed by Lysandra’s skill at manipulation. He decided to stay quiet and let her take the lead.
The innkeeper stared at her, his brow furrowed, until Jonas saw tears forming in his eyes. “My dear, dear girl. You are so brave . . . you’re both so brave. This world needs more young people like you who are willing to take great chances. Love . . .” He shook his head slowly, “It’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Lysandra agreed. “So can you help us?”
“If I could, I would. Truly. But any witches rumored to be in this area are long gone.” His expression grew pensive. “However, I’ve heard several can be found in Ravencrest. I would strongly urge you to try to find assistance there.”
Ravencrest, the capital of Limeros, was several days’ journey from the border.
Jonas wasn’t sure he had that much time left.
They ate, they slept, and before dawn the next morning, they left the inn, with a plan to somehow find—or steal—two horses to help speed up their journey.
Jonas tried to keep his steps steady and swift and not let Lysandra know how much weaker he’d grown since yesterday.
Suddenly, Lysandra clutched his arm. “Someone’s following us,” she whispered.
Jonas stopped short, his stomach plummeting. “I’m not sure if I can fight,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”
Jonas again tried to keep his footing, but his smooth-soled boots weren’t made for such icy-slick pathways. They turned a corner, then another, and then Lysandra motioned for Jonas to go ahead. He went, his staggering footsteps crunching loudly in the snow, while she waited behind the trunk of a large oak tree near a row of shops, its branches heavy with icicles.