Erik sleeps all the way through to the next morning. I’ve checked on him twice, but his breathing is slower, and there’s no sign of fever whatsoever. When I come back in from feeding the animals and practicing with the dagger, he’s standing in the kitchen barefoot, blinking in the morning sunlight. He’s shirtless again, but I’m gratified to see that there’s no redness surrounding the bandage today, no sweat on his brow.

“You’re awake!” I say in surprise.

He winces and rubs at his eyes. “Oh. Oh, that’s loud.”

His voice is so rough, and I bite my lip. “A bit hungover?” I whisper.

“Hmm. How much did I drink?”

“Olive was the one pouring it down your throat, but I think it was most of the bottle.”

“The whole bottle?” he exclaims, but then he winces again.

“It was either that or tie you down.”

He frowns. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. You’ve got quite the vocabulary, though.” I light the stove under the kettle and pull what’s left of the loaf of bread from the basket on the counter. “I learned a few new phrases I’ll be trying on Rian later. How do you feel? You look better.”

He gestures to his waist. “This feels a lot better. The rest of me feels like I’ve been trampled by a horse.”

“Excellent. I’ve already fed the animals. You can rest here today. Olive and I will head into town. She knows how to drive horses. Oh! You don’t know yet. She’s a princess.”

He blinks at me. “Am I still drunk?” He runs a hand down his face. “What is happening.”

I slice the bread, drizzle honey on it, and hand it to him. “She’s one of Rian’s many half siblings.” I tell him everything Olive told me about her husband, how he died in the war. “She said he wasn’t supposed to be in the midst of the fighting, but Rian ordered him in anyway.”

Erik takes a bite of the food and processes that for a moment. “I can see that.”

“Me too.” I drizzle some honey for myself. “I told her we had made arrangements to be in town this morning, and she agreed to go with me if you were still recuperating. I think it’s—”

“You shouldn’t go alone, Miss Tessa.” He’s frowning now.

“I won’t be alone. I just told you Olive will go with me.”

“Make me another poultice. I’ll ride with you.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not risking another infection. Do you really want to go through that again? You need to stay here.”

He sighs. Frowns.

But says nothing. His eyes are fixed on the counter now.

I reach out and put a hand over his. “If we’re stuck here,” I say quietly, “I need to be able to go places without a guard.”

His eyes snap up, and he looks back at me steadily.

“And I really like Olive,” I add.

“I know,” he says. “I can tell.” He pauses. “At the risk of being an annoying big brother again, it’s good to see you smile.”

Emotion catches in my throat and sticks there. “That’s not annoying.” I take a bite of the bread just to have something else to focus on.

But then I give him another smile. “I’m not the only one who likes Olive, you know.”

“Oh no?”

“I’m trying to remember if you told her she was pretty before or after you asked her to marry you.”

He chokes on his bread, and I have to pour him a glass of water.

I nod emphatically. “It was quite the proposal. You looked ready to pull her into your lap.”

“Now you’re being an annoying little sister.” But his cheeks are reddening.

My eyebrows go up. “You do like her!”

He eats his bread, then licks a bit of honey off his thumb. “It’s hard not to like a woman who knows how to handle a crossbow.”

I smile. “To say nothing of the fact that she nearly knocked me into the stove when she saw you without a shirt on.”

He grins, but his blush deepens.

“Well, well, well,” I say. “How interesting. Now I’m going to feel bad that you only said she was pretty after she told you not to wet the bed.”

The grin falls off his face. He swears under his breath.

My smile broadens. “Still want to go into town with us?”

He exhales heavily, defeated. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

The skies are heavy and overcast, but the heat of the day presses down anyway. I’m wearing another light dress, my hair pinned to my head, with the dagger strapped to my waist again, and even in the wagon, I’m already sweating. Olive made us coffee again before we left, and Erik didn’t emerge from his bedroom once, which I found hilarious.

I don’t realize Olive is concerned about his absence, though, until we’re on the road and she asks about it.

“Was Erik still sleeping this morning? Should you have left him, do you think?”

“Oh,” I say. “He’s fine. He’s just hiding from you.”

“Hiding!”

I bite my lip and nod. “I might have told him some of the things he said when he was drunk.”

“Drunk men say a lot of wild things. He was downright charismatic.”

I giggle, but I notice that her cheeks are pink, too, so I bump her shoulder and say, “He’s a good man.”

Ellmo pops up in the wagon behind us. “Erik said he would take me out on the rowboats when he heals. Do you think that will be tomorrow?”

“When did he say that?” Olive says.

“When you were getting the horses ready.”

“It’ll be a bit longer than tomorrow,” I say. “Maybe a few weeks.”

But as soon as I say the words, the length of time drives home that we really are stuck here. That Corrick is dead. My breath catches.

Olive reaches out and squeezes my hand.

I look over in surprise.

She’s looking at the road, but she gives me a nod. “I remember,” she says quietly. “The loss hits you over and over again, and always when you least expect it.”

That helps me sniff back the tears before they can form. “Yes,” I say.

She squeezes my hand one more time, then takes up the reins again.

“I’m really glad I met you,” I say.

She smiles. “Even though I was shooting at you?”

“That might be my favorite part.” I give her a sly glance. “Erik’s too. He said it’s hard not to like a woman who can handle a crossbow.”

“Did he!”

I nod.

She smiles, and she’s still blushing. But then she frowns. “Well, it’s nice to be fancied, but he’ll be wanting to return to Kandala. He’s duty bound to your king, I’m sure.”

“Well, your king is in no hurry to make that happen.”

“You might think that, but Rian will do whatever he can to get access to steel, so he’ll find a way back before long. I’m in no hurry to have my heart broken by a guardsman sworn to another country.”

There’s a note of finality to that, so I let it go.

She glances at the crates in the wagon. “You brought a lot of supplies. Do you expect a lot of people?”

It’s my turn to blush. “I really don’t know what to expect. I told that boy Henry to have people come if they needed an apothecary, but I know that a lot of people here don’t trust Kandala. So maybe we won’t need it all. I just . . . ​I need to do something. Maybe that’s silly.”

“It’s not silly.” Olive hesitates, and she keeps her eyes on the road again. “It makes me feel guilty.”

“Guilty! Why?”

She shrugs a little. “After the war . . . ​after Wyatt . . . ​I was so resentful of Rian, of Oren, of all the fighting, really. I just wanted to be . . . ​away. I haven’t left my house much. I haven’t done anything for the people. And you aren’t even from here, and you’re already trying to help.”

“Well, we’ll see,” I say. “Maybe I won’t be helping anyone at all. I might have packed all these crates for nothing.”

Olive clucks to the horses to pick up the pace. “If so, we’ll go back to the house and make more cheese sandwiches.”

Ellmo’s ears perk up. “Can we do that now?”

But then we crest the hill, and the little village Erik and I found the other day comes into view. Dozens of people have gathered near the little food stand where we met Henry. No, hundreds of people. They’re everywhere. Some are on crutches, some have arms bound in a sling. There are a lot of people in the shade, leaning against trees or buildings, while other people tend to them. When they spot the wagon, many of them send up a cheer.

I stare. “I . . . ​don’t think I brought too much.”

Olive shakes her head. “I don’t think you brought enough.”

We work for hours, sweating in the sun. I barely find a spare moment to eat or drink, because it seems that the line of people is never-ending. I hear stories of the war, of hunger, of desperation. Some people are simply ill, while others have more serious, lingering injuries. I’m glad I got practice on Erik’s infection, because similar wounds are common, and my dress is stained with blood and tears before long. I wish I had a bottle of whiskey to drink.

Olive is right—I didn’t bring enough supplies to treat everyone, and when I run out, I begin making a list of names and ailments so I know what else I need to make so I can return with it tomorrow.

I am surprised to discover that almost everyone knows Olive. After the way she talked about hiding herself away after her husband died, I expected them to treat her like a stranger, too, but everyone knows her by name.

As I’m wrapping gauze around an old woman’s forearm from a burn, she says, “It’s so good to see Livvy helping you. She’s been cooped up for far too long. Such a shame about her poor Wyatt.”

I nod. “She’s becoming a good friend.”

“He wanted her to take the throne, you know. We would have supported her all the way. But she was so sad after her husband was gone.”

My hands go still on the gauze. “Rian wanted her to take the throne?”

“What? No. Wyatt. He was a good man for her.” She winces a little when I tie off the bandage. “Redstone is a fighter, and he’s kept us safe. But we didn’t want to fight. I’m glad it’s over.”

I stare at her. This is the first time someone other than Olive has described Rian in this way, without the usual adoration. I want to ask her more, but she glances to her left and says, “I’ve kept you too long. There are so many more people.” She touches her fingers to her heart, then kisses them. “You have my thanks, dear. A lot of us were worried this was a trap, because we remember what Kandala did, but when we saw you with Livvy, we knew it was all right.”

Before I can say anything to that, she’s gone, and I’m on to the next person.

By the time night falls, I want to sleep in the wagon. Olive looks the same.

“Maybe Ellmo should drive us back,” I say to her.

I expect him to give me a saucy response, but then I realize he’s sound asleep in the back, curled up on the rolls of muslin beside my empty crates.

Olive and I lean on each other on the way back to the house, and I think about the day, about missing my friend Karri, about my longing for Corrick and the hole in my heart that aches with every beat. But Erik was right—I needed to move. I’m glad that I did.

When we finally arrive at the house, though, Erik is sitting in front of the barn, a lit lantern on the bench beside him. As soon as he sees us, he’s on his feet. The lantern lights up his face, and I can tell he’s unhappy.

“What’s wrong?” I say. “Are you unwell? What happened?”

“What’s wrong?” he demands. “What’s wrong? You’ve been gone for more than twelve hours. I was ready to saddle one of the horses, and this injury be damned.”

Olive and I exchange a glance, then climb down from the wagon.

Erik isn’t done. “It’s well past nightfall. How could the two of you even see on the road? What if you’d encountered thieves? I knew I should have gone with—”

He stops short as Olive steps in front of him and takes hold of his shirt. She rises up on her toes and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you for your concern. We won’t worry you again.”

Then she pats him on the arm and moves away.

Erik just stands there, holding the lantern. The edge falls out of his voice. “I . . . ​well . . .” He runs a hand over the back of his neck and clears his throat.

“Come on, Ellmo,” says Olive, pulling her sleepy son out of the wagon. “Time to go home.”

“Thank you for your help today,” I call.

She smiles broadly. “I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. I’ll come at sunrise to help you prepare your tinctures.”

Then she disappears into the shadows.

I stop beside Erik, who’s staring after her. “Close your mouth,” I whisper.

He clamps it shut. The look he gives me is aggrieved.

I smile. “She’ll be back in the morning.”

That chases the dark look out of his eyes. He grins. “I heard.”

I cluck to the horses, to lead them into the barn so I can remove their harnesses. But then I remember what she said, so I stop and look back at him. She’s already well away into the trees now, but I keep my voice low so there’s no danger of her hearing me.

“She doesn’t want her heart broken by a man whose only goal is to leave.”

He nods, sobering. “Noted, Miss Tessa.” He pauses. “I told you before. I don’t give anyone a reason to cry.”

His voice is gentle when he says it, but there’s still something sad about it, and I remember the way he described his life before. Sworn to the king, so he kept his heart tightly tethered. Everyone in Kandala hid so much: what they wanted, what they felt, who they really were.

It makes me regret saying anything at all.