sensing Red’s presence.
“A lowlife,” Red spat. “With a blade.”
Dominic reached for his blindfold, but Evie stayed his hand. “Stop that,” she scolded. “It’s your own fault for being rude. She isn’t going to hurt you.”
Red snorted.
Dominic snorted right back. “It is not rude to speak the truth. You may be one of Evelyn’s lost lambs, but you should respect her office. One of the lesser priests, or a lay healer with herbs and ointments, would certainly serve your needs. Certainly not the most powerful priestess in the—”
“Dominic!” Evie tugged on his arm, and got him moving.
Red followed. The man continued his chiding as they reached the croft. His personality did not improve with his speech, as far as Red was concerned. He cursed every root and rock on the path, as if it was a personal affront.
Evie pushed the door open, and Red followed right behind the man. She wasn’t leaving him alone with Bethral and their “lost lamb” for a minute. She crowded in behind, and shut the door firmly.
Dominic was tall enough that the dried herbs brushed his face. “What—”
“You can take off the blindfold now,” Evie said. She reached up to remove it for Dominic, at the same time he reached up. Their hands met briefly, and Red saw that Dominic’s hand lingered on Evie’s for a moment longer than necessary.
Then Dominic got a good look at his surroundings. “Oh, for the love of the Sun!” He gave Bethral a disdainful glance and then looked down at the bed. “Evelyn, what are you thinking? A slave?”
“How do you know that?” Bethral asked, her hand on her sword hilt.
“Please,” Dominic glared at her. “Those wounds were caused by manacles, and those are clearly whip marks. Any fool can see that this man is a slave.”
“Dominic”—Evie placed her hand on his arm—“this man is suffering and needs our help. His tongue has been cut out.”
“Really?” That seemed to give Dominic pause. He reached out with long, delicate fingers and touched the man’s chin, turning his face toward the light. He frowned slightly, and Red saw something pass over his face.
“What is it?” she asked.
“He seems familiar,” Dominic answered slowly. “What color are his eyes?”
“Brown,” Bethral answered. “He’s opened them only once.”
Dominic pulled his hand back quickly. “Not the man I thought.” He looked at Evie impatiently.
“I suppose you are determined to do this.”
She smiled at him gently. “I am.”
Dominic slowly smiled back at her, and shook his head. “Well, then, we will see it done.” His black hair shifted, and the tips of his ears were visible.
“You’re an elf,” Red blurted out.
“Half-elven.” Dominic gave her a disdainful look, sweeping her from head to toe. “Not that it is any business of yours. We need some room for our task. Do you mind leaving?”
“Actually, I do.” Red replied. But she did press herself back against the door, giving them more room.
Evie knelt by the bedside and spread her hands over the slave. Dominic took one look at the rough planking, curled his lip, and moved to stand at her side. He placed one hand on Evie’s shoulder and extended his other hand, spreading those thin fingers wide.
They both began to pray, their voices low. “Hail, gracious Lord of the Sun and Sky, Giver of Light and Grantor of Health, we ask….”
Red’s stomach flipped as their hands began to glow. In her experience, gods were beings best left to their own devices. Beseeching aid was rarely done in Soccia, and was not without its consequences.
The voices continued, and the glow began to drift down from their hands, encasing the slave in light. Bethral was intent on the man on the bed, watching him like a hawk, probably for signs that the magic was working. But Red couldn’t see any evidence that it was, and certain sure the slave never once reacted with so much as a twitch.
They began to repeat the prayer, and Red took to