Amelia stopped in front of one of the cottages.
Dar’s grip tightened around Elara.
Amelia flew to hover beside him again. “This is home to those your king tried to erase. Be respectful.” Her eyes shot to Elara and turned wide with fright. “She fades. We must hurry.”
Dar swung down carefully from his horse, keeping Elara close, every sense sharpened, every instinct warning of danger. But none of that mattered. Only Elara mattered.
The cottage door opened.
A woman stood just inside and smiled when she saw Amelia hovering in the air… until. Her gaze swept past her, settling on the Hunter cradling a cloaked figure.
“What is this?” she demanded, already bristling.
“Helma, she is wounded,” Amelia said, her wings beating faster. “Badly.”
Helma’s eyes narrowed. “You bring a Hunter and his prey here?”
“She is not my prey. She is my wife and we waste time,” Dar snapped. “She is dying as you speak.”
Amelia darted closer to Helma’s face. “It’s Elara.”
The reaction was immediate… all color drained from the woman’s face as she stared, not at Dar, but at the shape in his arms. Her breath caught sharply, and whatever she had been about to say vanished.
“Elara?” Helma whispered, the word barely more than air. She moved at once, flinging the door wide. “Inside. Now.” She ushered Dar in with sharp, urgent gestures.
He didn’t hesitate. He stepped across the threshold, the air changing around him—thicker, warmer, comforting… and hopeful.
Then he heard the woman, Helma, whisper to Amelia. “You know what you must do. Go now.”
Trouble, his Hunter instincts warned.
“Lay her there gently,” Helma instructed, pointing to the nearest bed of the three in the large room.
Dar lowered Elara with care, easing her down and only then drawing back the cloak enough for Helma to see her face.
Helma gasped at her deathly pale face. “How long?”
“Too long,” Dar said.
Helma pressed wo fingers to Elara’s throat and shook her head. “Barely a heartbeat.”
She got busy spreading the cloak to get to the wound as she ordered, “Get out and leave me to tend to her.”
“Nay.”
The single word landed solidly between them.
Helma’s eyes flashed. “This is not your place, Hunter.”
“Again, she is my wife.” His tone hardened. “I will not leave her, not for kings, not for magic, and I dare anyone or thing to come between us.”
The woman stared at him, searching his face as if weighing him and his words, finally saying, “Very well, but do not get in my way. Do not interfere.”
Dar nodded and stepped aside, but he did not move far.
As Helma began pulling jars and cloths from a shelf, Dar’s thoughts snagged on one thing and would not let go.
Elara’s name.