3. Lora #3
“It’s just a few days’ travel. I know which rivers to follow, and I’ve heard travelers talk about the best inns along the way. Erion doesn’t remember anything. By the deep, he barely even knows how his magic works. Someone has to take him.”
Father scowled. “We can send word to the capital and let them send someone to—”
“What if they don’t believe us?” The words ground out through gritted teeth. “The council needs to see it to believe it!”
Groaning, Father waved a dismissive hand. “Then go, if that’s what you want. You’re a grown woman, it’s not like I can stop you.”
I drew a breath, taking in his closed expression. He was just worried about me, like always. I squeezed his hand. “I know I don’t need your approval, but I want it.”
A war raged in his eyes—the father who wanted to keep his daughter close, and the one who understood my need to help and protect.
We’d had a fight like this before, just after Mother died, when I refused to leave monster hunting for healing like he wanted. Mother had never been prouder than the day I told her I wanted to be a hunter like her. I wouldn’t let her death be the reason I strayed from that path.
I held his gaze. “Aren’t you the one always telling us not to sit around and wait for life to happen?”
Vela smirked. “Oh, yes.” She deepened her voice, imitating Father. “You need to seize control of your own life and drive it toward the future you want.”
I nodded, lips twitching. “Precisely. And going to Six River City with Erion is what I want.”
Father’s eyes narrowed, watching me intently. “Would it make you happy?”
I pressed my lips together. He’d asked the wrong question. I wasn’t searching for happiness. I didn’t deserve happiness.
But Father wouldn’t understand.
Drawing in a deep breath, I looked him square in the eyes. “Yes, it would make me happy.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Every time I helped someone in need, a quiet sense of fulfillment settled in my chest.
Vela’s eyes darted between us. Erion had shrunk back in his chair, staring at his hands.
Father’s face tightened, his throat working. “Have you been practicing those healing techniques I taught you?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Maybe not as much as I should have. But I will, I promise! On our journey to Six River City.”
With a resigned sigh, his shoulders sagged. “All right.”
I couldn’t hold back the grin as I flung myself around his neck. He pulled me into his warm embrace before pushing me away. “You’ll need supplies.”
He shot to his feet and hurried toward the counter, diving through the beaded curtain into the back room.
Erion glanced at me, guilt written in his knitted brows. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to come between you and your family.”
I shook my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is my choice. And Father will be fine. He just needs a little time to process.”
Vela leaned back in her seat. “You’re really leaving.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
She nodded, forcing a strained smile, eyes shimmering. I pulled her into a hug.
“You know what,” I whispered in her ear. “You should go to the New Moon’s feast without me. Some handsome traveler will no doubt fall in love with you the moment he spots you.”
She giggled. “Yeah, right.”
I pulled back enough to meet her eyes. “Absolutely. He’ll give up his old life to come live here with you. Men have crossed half the Queendom for less, you know.”
“I know, I just—I don’t think I’m ready to…” Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
I lowered my voice to imitate Father’s. “You need to seize control of your own life and drive it toward the future you want.”
We both broke into giggles.
She’d find a new man soon enough, I was sure of it. Despite being two years younger than me, she’d always been more mature when it came to love and relationships.
Father returned, arms stacked with rolls of bandages, sealed jars of salves, and packets of dried herbs. He spread them across the table with the focused intensity he brought to difficult cases.
My heart swelled. My dear father, always insisting I packed an abundance of healing supplies on every hunt.
His fingers moved over each item. “Stoneleaf paste for pains. Moonbark for fever. And this—” He held up a jar. “Thornroot potion—”
“For infection,” Erion finished.
“Exactly.” Father chuckled. “I’d bet an entire crystal on you being an herbalist.”
I frowned as the words sank in. Could someone be both an herbalist and a rift-exploring scholar? The pieces didn’t fit, leaving questions swarming in my mind like restless shadows.
Father looked Erion over. “You’re about my size. I’ll find you something better to wear.”
Flushing, Erion glanced down at his torn clothes. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay—”
“Just stay out of trouble.” A soft smile tugged at Father’s mouth. “That’s payment enough.”
Gratitude pooled in Erion’s eyes as he watched Father disappear through the beaded curtain.
My gaze lingered on his profile. I didn’t know where he’d come from or who he’d been, but the gentle soul before me warmed my heart.
Steady conviction settled deep in my core. Helping Erion was the right thing to do.