A moment later, Jonas saw Lys lunge out from her hiding spot and grab hold of a cloaked figure. She slammed her victim against the wall, pressing the edge of Jonas’s jeweled blade to the stranger’s throat.

When it became clear that their stalker had been caught, Jonas drew closer and saw that the figure was about the same size and height as Lys. “Why are you following us?” she snarled.

“Your weapon isn’t necessary,” answered a female voice.

Jonas knew her words meant nothing to Lys, who trusted people less easily than anyone Jonas had ever met. And despite her size, Lys was as dangerous as any man when she had to be.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lys said, taking a more forceful grip on the dagger. “Who are you?” Before giving her time to answer, Lys pulled back the hood of her black satin cloak.

Jonas nearly gasped when he saw the girl’s lovely face, only a few shades lighter than her dark brown hair, set with a pair of emerald green eyes that gazed calmly at them both.

“I’m a friend,” the girl said. She didn’t seem afraid.

“Why were you following us?” Jonas asked, stepping closer. He thought he recognized her. “You were in the inn last night, weren’t you?”

“I was. Which is precisely why I know you’re looking for a witch who might be able to help you.”

His heart jumped at this statement. “Do you know of one?”

“I am one.” She looked back at Lys. “Now remove your weapon, or I might change my mind.”

Lys glanced at Jonas with uncertainty. He nodded, and she reluctantly sheathed the dagger.

As Lysandra stepped away, the girl’s expression remained serene rather than relieved or grateful to have been set free.

“So,” Jonas said, wary of this seemingly too-fortunate encounter. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” the girl replied evenly. “Now, I advise you to stop wasting time. By the looks of you, Jonas Agallon, you have very little of it left.”

A shock of sweat trickled down Jonas’s spine. “You know who I am?”

“Despite your rather weak attempt at a disguise, yes.” She glanced at Lys. “And you are Lysandra Barbas, Jonas’s companion and fellow rebel. Lovely gown, by the way. A simple yet effective costume for one who’s clearly worn nothing but trousers all her life.”

Lysandra crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyeing the girl with deep wariness and distrust. “So that’s what you are, a spy? For the king, perhaps?”

“No.”

“And why should we believe you?”

“I don’t really care if you believe me or not.”

“I think I understand,” Jonas said. “You want money. How much?”

The girl sighed with impatience. “I’m really not in the mood for a debate about my intentions. It’s painfully early, it’s unpleasantly cold out here, and I’m only doing what I must by offering to save your life. If you don’t take my help willingly, I’ll have to force it upon you.”

Jonas’s brows shot up. For someone who claimed not to give a damn one way or another, she was very insistent.

Lysandra eyed her up and down. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia.”

“Jonas,” Lysandra said slowly, “let’s give Olivia a chance.”

“But Lys—”

“No,” she cut him off. “It’s decided. Olivia, what do you need to begin?”

“First, I need to get out of this cold air.”

Lysandra nodded and led them to the nearest building, a shop that sold candles and lanterns, that was closed at this early hour.

“Stand back,” Lys said, approaching a window and preparing to break it.

“No need.” Olivia grasped the handle and pushed the main door open.

“Is that the custom in Limeros, to leave doors unlocked?” Jonas said.

“No. But it’s unlocked now.”

Jonas and Lys shared a wary look as they followed the witch into the small, vacant shop furnished with tables heaped with wax candles in every size and shape imaginable. Lysandra immediately took a few in hand and lit them with her flint to provide additional light to the small area.

“Show me your wound,” Olivia said, waving her index finger at him. “Quickly.”

Jonas removed his satchel and dropped it to the floor.

Olivia sighed with impatience. “Today would be lovely. Really.”

He glared at her.

He had absolutely no idea why she wanted—seemingly needed—to help him, but if anything she’d said was true he couldn’t risk losing this opportunity. They were looking for a skilled witch, and—as if by magic—one had just marched right up to them and offered her services.

Now wasn’t the time to question her intentions. He promised himself he’d do that later, when he didn’t feel like death itself.

That was, if Olivia could do what she claimed.

Lysandra helped him untie the front of his shirt and pulled it off his left shoulder.

“Oh, Jonas!” she gasped.

Olivia scrunched her nose up at the sight of the festering and oozing wound. “That is the foulest thing I’ve seen in my entire life. I’m truly stunned that you’re still upright and breathing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, well, imagine how I feel. Now, can you help me or not?”

She rolled her eyes and glanced at Lysandra. “Is he always this belligerent?”

“Never mind him. What do you think? Can you make some fresh healing mud?”

Or perhaps she has a bag of shiny, magic grape seeds in her bag ready and waiting, Jonas thought. Then he’d know for sure he’d fallen into a fever dream and none of this was real.

“Is that what you originally applied to this?” Olivia gagged. “Oh, my. I think I may actually vomit.”

Lys grimaced. “The mud was apparently too old to hold its magic so it did nothing at all.”

“No wonder it’s such a repulsive mess.” Olivia shook her head. “Fine. Yes, I will make some fresh healing mud since it is a perfect substance to hold earth magic. First, I’ll have to find a cow.”

Jonas was too weak to fully express his impatience for her to start, but this was truly unexpected. “Why do you need a cow?”

“What do you think the mud is made from?” she asked, a glimmer of amusement in her emerald eyes. “Cow dung is a common ingredient in many earth magic concoctions.”

She left the building without waiting for a response.

Jonas stared after her, stunned. “She means to heal me with cow dung.”

Lysandra patted his good arm. “And you’re going to let her.”

• • •

Olivia returned with a bucket of her foul-smelling findings. She ordered Jonas to take his shirt off completely and peel away all the bandages when she was ready to begin.

Lysandra peered into the bucket of brown muck. “So that’s it, is it?”

“It is.”

Jonas gritted his teeth. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Lie down.” Olivia reached into the bucket and drew out a handful of the stinking mud.

Jonas lay down on the sturdy table before which he’d previously been seated. He reached for Lysandra, who took his right hand in hers. “Ready,” he said.