“She survived because of me.” Dar’s jaw tightened until the muscle jumped. “And I have seen nothing to prove she has extraordinary healing powers.”
Muir gave a thoughtful grunt. “The king believes she exists. Scotara whispers her name. A healer who can combat death.” He cast a sideways glance. “The king will be pleased that you succeeded where others failed.”
Dar’s grip on the reins tightened. “That has yet to be determined.”
Muir leaned back in his saddle. “Regardless, you played your part well. The wanderer who wasn’t really a wanderer. The man who hid his identity, his skill, his blade to find the silver-haired woman.”
Dar remained silent, a task he once thought would be simple to accomplish had become more complicated than he could have ever imagined.
Muir grinned. “Aye, King Dravic will be pleased you return with the prize.”
Dar continued his silence.
“Have you grown soft?” Muir asked with a chuckle that quickly faded. “Or perhaps you have grown… attached.”
Dar turned his head then, slowly, the cold fury in his eyes was unmistakable. “Say that again and you’ll ride to Caerith missing your tongue.”
Muir raised his hands in surrender, and his grin returned. “So, she has gotten under your skin.”
Dar faced the road ahead, refusing to acknowledge the barb.
“Silence often speaks louder than words,” Muir said. “Tell me, does she know who you are?”
“She will soon enough.”
“Does she know she’ll be tested?”
Dar turned his head sharply. “How many have been lost because of this testing?”
Muir shrugged. “No more than a few healers.”
“Healers will be needed if we go to war. The king should not be wasting even one healer.”
“Not if we go to war, but when we do,” Muir corrected him. “And one powerful healer can surely make up for a few lost ones.”
Dar scoffed. “I forget you are a half-blood Hunter. A full-blooded Hunter would understand.”
Muir spoke with an angry tongue. “I may be a half-blood, but I am more worthy a Hunter than many full-blooded ones and I understand our creed… kill only what is necessary.”
“There is more to our creed than that?—”
“Aye, loyalty to our clan and our king above all else.”
Dar glared at him. “Spit it out, Muir. What do you accuse me of?”
“I do not accuse. I simply remind you. The silver-haired woman is a beauty who could easily turn a man’s head.”
“And you think she turned mine?”
“Did she?” Muir asked.
Dar’s glare deepened. “If she did, why would I bring her to the king?”
Muir threw his head back and laughed, those around casting curious glances his way.
“And that is why you are a commander and I am not,” Muir said after his laughter subsided.
“Go and see that we stay on course. I want no delays in reaching the king.”