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“She’s a healer?”
We both turned to face Ignatius. He was standing tall, fury on his face and two brawny men at his back. Both of them were armed with swords, although I’d seen no sign of guards previously.
“What else have you been deceiving us about,cousin?” Ignatius asked, his eyes focused on Grey. “How many of your other followers are not what they appear?”
I tried to use his distraction to my advantage, edging slowly sideways in a bid to escape. But one of his guards moved to block me, his stance experienced and his blade menacing. I paused again, trying to decide if it was worth attempting to flee anyway.
I looked across at Grey and saw resignation in his eyes. He knew it was over.
I relaxed as well, an instinctive reaction, but it was the wrong response.
Once again catching me off-guard, Grey closed the distance between us. Grabbing me roughly, he threw me with all his strength toward Ignatius.
I stumbled forward, totally out of control, and collided with the tall healer. He shouted as if I was white hot and my touch burned him, thrusting me away. Both of his guards responded, converging on me, and in the darkness I caught a glimpse of Grey fleeing back toward the party.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I cried, but none of the three were listening.
“Get rid of her,” Ignatius hissed, and one of the guards grunted in response.
A blade bit into me, searing pain spreading through my leg as it severed a tendon. I threw my power at the injury, but it had no sooner healed than another burst of pain flared across my arm.
I stumbled backward, but the guards pursued me. Distracted by my healing, I didn’t make it far before my foot caught on a root in the ground, and I went sprawling full length across the ground.
Both swords slashed at me at once, and I screamed, again throwing my power at the new wounds. I curled inward, throwing my arms up to protect my head and neck as I tried to keep the blades away from my most vulnerable regions.
My power was strong, and it could heal almost as quickly as they struck at me, but I could feel myself starting to weaken. My strength wouldn’t last forever—I had experienced that firsthand.
But neither were my attackers going to stop. Not until I was dead.
My terrified, pain-dazed mind latched onto the thought. If I wanted it to stop, I had to die. Or appear dead, at least.
Another burst of pain, and another. I moved to block the pain and heal the worst of the injuries, but this time I left two surface wounds behind, leaking blood. Let them think I was already out of energy.
Another wound and then another. More wounds left on the surface.
But faking my death wasn’t a simple task. My adversary was a healer, and a powerful one. He didn’t want to risk touching me, but he didn’t need physical contact to sense my heartbeat or the air scraping in and out of my lungs. Which meant I needed to stop them.
I let one more strike fall before sending what remained of my power to my lungs and heart, seizing them and holding them still. Almost immediately, my chest began to burn, but I found new depths of power and used them to soothe the sensation.
Another blow fell, but I remained limp, not responding to it at all. My eyes wanted to close, but I used my power to force the lids open, stilling their movement and dilating my pupils to their full size.
My vision went blurry, but I ignored it, holding absolutely still.
Only the use of my power allowed me to maintain the lack of movement. Already my body should have been spasming, forcing me to suck in air whether I wanted to or not. But I ruthlessly suppressed every sensation that would have forced that response.
“Stop,” Ignatius called, finally bringing relief from the blows.
I waited another second and another. My thoughts were starting to grow fuzzy, my brain starved of air, and I felt strangely cold all over. But I had to hold on.
If I could maintain the ruse for long enough, then Ignatius would approach closer. The only way to be sure I was really dead was to touch me and see if he could reach me with his power. But the second he made contact, I would be ready.
A strange keening stabbed at my heart as a warm body threw itself at me. I had never heard Ember make that sound. A soft thud sounded as Phoenix landed beside her, his chattering call joining her distress.
I longed to sit up and reassure them, but I had to lie still.
I waited. And waited some more. Finally, I heard footsteps.
But instead of moving closer, they were moving away. The crunch of three sets of feet were returning to the party. He wasn’t going to do a full check? Just how deeply ingrained was the Constantines’ aversion to physical touch with another healer?
