He brought the pouch to the Painted Man, who quickly began grinding herbs into powder and mixing them with water. The girl’s family kept back, watching the scene in horror as the Cutters laid waste to demons all around them.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Rojer asked nervously, as the Painted Man brought his potion to the moaning woman’s lips.

“I was apprenticed to an Herb Gatherer for six months as part of my Messenger training,” the Painted Man said. “I’ve seen it done.”

“Seen?!” Rojer asked.

“Do you want to do it?” the Painted Man asked, looking at him. Rojer blanched and shook his head. “Then just play your ripping fiddle and keep the demons back while I work.” Rojer nodded and put bow back to string.

Hours later, with the sounds of battle long faded, a shrill cry broke the night. Rojer looked at the screaming babe and smiled.

“There will be no denying it when people call you Deliverer now,” he said.

The Painted Man scowled at him, and Rojer laughed.

Leesha carried the steaming tray up the steps of Smitt’s inn, her heart beating nervously. Twice before, she had considered giving herself to Marick, whom she could not deny was handsome and quick-witted. Both times, Marick’s character had failed at the key moment, making Leesha feel that in his mind, her needs were second to his own, if he was considering them at all.

But her mother was right again. She often was, even as she used the insight to cut at people. Leesha was tired of being alone, and she knew in her heart that Arlen would never fill that place for her. Not for the first time, she wished she could see Rojer in that light, but it was impossible. She loved Rojer, but had no desire for him to share her bed. Marick had shown the people of Fort Rizon that he was a man who could be counted upon in times of need. Perhaps it was time to look beyond his past failings.

She tugged the wrinkles from her dress, then felt foolish for it, and knocked on his door.

“Ay?” Marick asked as he opened the door. He was shirtless and damp, having just come from the warm basin of water in his room. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Leesha.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Leesha said. “Just thought you might do with a hot meal before you sleep.”

“I…yes, thank you,” Marick said, grabbing his tunic and pulling it on. Leesha looked away as he did so, though the image of his muscled body lingered in her mind.

Marick took the tray, inhaling its aroma deeply as he brought it over to the small table and chair by the bed. He lifted the lid to reveal a hot joint of meat, moist with its own juices, nestled amid spiced potatoes and fresh steamed greens.

“Food in Deliverer’s Hollow is soon to grow short,” Leesha said, “but Smitt’s stores have held out for a night, at least.”

“A bed is glorious enough, after lying down in snow for near two weeks,” Marick said. “This is a gift from the Creator Himself.” He tore into the meat, and Leesha took a strange satisfaction in watching him eat the food she had prepared. She remembered the feeling, distantly, from the time she and Gared had been promised, and she first cooked for him. It seemed a century ago, in another life.

“That was delicious,” Marick said when he was done, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“It’s small thanks for what you did,” Leesha said, “bringing those people to safety in their time of need.”

“Even after I failed you in yours?” Marick asked. Leesha looked at him in surprise.

“Last year,” Marick said, “when flux caught the Hollow and you needed to get home. I made…unfair demands for my assistance.”

“Marick…” Leesha began softly.

“No, let me speak,” Marick said. “When we were on the road to Angiers that first time, I was so taken with you, I thought we would be raising children together within a year. But then, in the tent, when I couldn’t…be a man with you, I…”

“Marick…” Leesha said again.

“It made me crazy,” Marick said. “I felt like I needed to get far away from you, but when I did, I couldn’t stop thinking of you, even when I…lay with other women.” He looked away.

“But when I saw you again,” he went on, “I felt so…hard, and I wanted to make up for my past failing quickly, before something else prevented it. It was unfair to you, and I’m sorry.”

Leesha laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not a child,” she said. “I was as responsible for what happened as you.” It was more true than he would ever know, and at that moment she felt horrified at her own actions. It felt so righteous at the time, but the truth was she had drugged and used him for her own convenience, leaving him scarred for years over the ordeal. Perhaps Rojer was right, and she was more like her mother than she knew.

“That’s kind of you to say,” Marick said, squeezing her arm, “but you and I both know it isn’t so. I’m glad you managed to make it home,” he added, “and without having to surrender your virtue.”

Leesha had been leaning in toward him, but she flinched back from him at the words, for indeed, her virtue had been torn from her on the trip, taken by bandits on the road because she went without proper escort. All because of Marick’s impatience and inability to think of others before himself.

Marick seemed not to notice her change in demeanor. He chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t get over how you run the Hollow now. What happened to the soft girl who turned the head of every man that saw her? Overnight you’ve become Hag Bruna. I’ll wager even the corelings are scared of you now.”

Hag Bruna? Was that how folk saw her? The lonesome crone who bullied and intimidated everyone in town? Was that what she ’d become when her virtue was stripped from her?

Her mother sensed the change, too. Time it was done somehow, Elona had said, and I expect you’re the better for it.

Leesha shook her head to clear it, sensing the moment they had been about to share slipping away. “What are your plans now?” she asked. “Will you help us hunt for more survivors on the road, or do you mean to take your group of refugees directly on to Angiers?”

Marick looked at her in surprise. “Neither.”

“What do you mean?” Leesha asked.

“Now that the Rizonans are safe, it’s time I moved on,” Marick said. “The duke needs word of the Krasian attack, and I’ve let them slow me long enough.”

“Slow you?” Leesha asked. “Their lives depended on you!”

Marick nodded. “I couldn’t leave people out on the road without succor, but they have succor now. I’m not Rizonan. I have no further responsibility to them.”

“But Deliverer’s Hollow can’t possibly absorb so many!” Leesha cried.

Marick shrugged. “I’ll tell the duke. Let it be his problem.”

“They’re not a problem, Marick, they’re people!” Leesha said.

“What do you expect me to do?” Marick asked. “Devote the rest of my life to looking out for them? That’s not a Messenger’s way.”

“Well, I’m glad we never ended up raising children together, then,” Leesha snapped. “Enjoy your bed, Messenger.” She took the tray and left, slamming the door behind her.

“What are we going to do?” Smitt asked. Leesha had called a late meeting of the town council to discuss Marick’s revelation that he was leaving the refugees in Deliverer’s Hollow and pressing on alone in the morning.

“Take them in, of course,” Leesha said. “Open our homes while helping them build their own. We can’t just leave these folk without food or shelter.”

“The greatward can’t accommodate so many new houses,” Smitt said.

“So we’ll build another,” Leesha said. “We have near two thousand hands to do the work, and miles of forest for material.”

“Not to scuff the wards,” Darsy said, “but just how’re we supposed to feed so many in the dead of winter? If more keep coming, we’ll all be eating snow before long.”

Leesha had been considering the same problem. “Every young woman in the Hollow can shoot a bow now. We’ll put them to hunting, and the boys to trapping.”