Henry winced as Praetorus finished binding his abdomen, the scratches on his back still stinging after the dousing of spirits to sterilize them. Rebecca still lay on the bench before them, breathing softly, but she didn't stir yet, nor did Arthur as the woman maintained her healing vigil over him.

  It had been about an hour after they had arrived at this place, and the wind outside howled louder than ever. Even through the thick stone walls, it sounded as if a chorus of wolves were baying at the door, so fierce was the storm outside; looking out from the small windows high above in the ceiling, Henry could only see darkness. The sun had long set, and they were in for a long evening and night until the storm broke.

  "There is food in the kitchen just down the hall," the woman said, still unmoved from her position over Arthur. Her palms were still emitting a faint golden glow, as whatever magic she was using seemed to flow into Arthur's abdomen. "Please, help yourselves."

  "I'm fine, thank you," Henry replied. He spied Praetorus shaking his head as well. "We both are. What is this place, anyhow?"

  "You are in the chapel of the White Rose." The woman smiled wearily at the two boys. "Forgive me. I am Diana, the caretaker of the chapel during this season. The other members of my order are currently crusading in the east."

  "You're here alone?" Henry cocked his head. "Isn't it dangerous for a maiden like you to care for this entire chapel by yourself?"

  "I said I'm alone, not helpless." She nodded her head to the corner, where a weapons rack containing a shield and mace sat. "Beasts rarely ever come here, and even bandits avoid desecrating the hallowed grounds of Our Lady."

  "I see." Henry walked over, peering at Arthur's face as Diana continued her work. "Is he getting any better?"

  "His lifeline is weak, but it's secure for now. I'm strengthening it as best I can."

  The squire noted Diana's weary eyes and face, her hands trembling slightly as sweat flowed freely from her brow. He dutifully retrieved a nearby cloth and dipped it in the washbasin, pressing the cool cloth against her blazing forehead as he wiped away her perspiration.

  "Thank you." She smiled weakly. "I never got your names, either."

  Henry felt his face burn with embarrassment as he gave a quick, awkward bow. "Sorry! I'm Henry. That's Praetorus over there. Rebecca is on the bench, and my friend here is Arthur."

  "Nice to meet you, Henry." Diana's smile grew. "What are you children doing so far out here? The village is half a day's ride from here, and the Regency much further than that."

  "Rebecca, Arthur, and I are headed to the Whistling Mines from Lisselton. As for Praetorus..." Henry cast a wary glance at the archer. "Why are you still here, anyhow? We're long gone from the forest, and you've still not told us your mission."

  Praetorus remained silent for a moment, before he finally spoke. "You are correct. I have not been entirely honest with you."

  Henry narrowed his eyes, his hand on his sword. "Explain yourself."

  "Very well." The archer fixed his gaze on Henry, his bright purple irises seeming to glow in the dim light within the chapel. "I shall be honest with you. I am hunting beasts. Specifically, I am hunting a dragon."

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  "A dragon?" The torches around them flickered slightly, as if the word itself struck fear into the flames. Indeed, Henry could feel a cold chill slither down his spine.

  "Yes. The wyvern we encountered earlier was a promising sign. Your survival was an added bonus as well."

  "You knew?" Henry fought the urge to draw his sword right then and there. "You knew the wyvern was there, and you led us there anyway?!"

  "I was confident you would sufficiently weaken it and give me an opening." Praetorus' expression remained unchanged. "If it is of any comfort, I would have stepped in were any of you in mortal danger, and I did."

  "You expect me to thank you?! You almost got us all killed!"

  "It was a calculated strategy. I would not have done it if I knew you were not up to the task."

  Henry could feel rage coursing through his veins, the same rage that compelled him to beat Arthur to a pulp earlier. However, he managed to control it this time, tempering it with ice cold disdain for the archer. He shouldered past Praetorus, heading to the kitchen.

  "I'm going to prepare dinner for everyone. But know this." He stared daggers at the archer. "Arthur thought the same as you, and you saw what I did to him. Consider that he is my friend. You are not." Henry could practically taste the venom from his words. "I guess you are a mercenary after all. Just not for coin."

  With that, he walked off to the kitchen, feeling Praetorus' gaze pierce his back.

  Praetorus watched the squire disappear down the hall, mulling the words over in his head. He had to be much more careful from now on, and as much as he hated to admit it, Henry was right; his plan had very nearly failed. Arthur and Rebecca were still down, and Henry was wounded, nearly killed by the beast had he not stepped in. Still, though the outcome wasn't ideal, it was favorable; nobody was killed, and he had his prize. He checked his quiver once more, just to check; the five quills he had taken from the wyvern were still there, each one gleaming like a diamond. He'd need to refine them into arrows to truly have his prize, but he had them nonetheless.

  His hair bristled, meaning someone was staring at him. He looked up, meeting Diana's gaze from across the room. The healer still had her hands on Arthur, but she was looking at him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern.

  "He said your name was Praetorus?" Her voice was soft and comforting, something which felt more disarming to Praetorus than any weapon could be.

  He nodded, covering up his quiver. "I am."

  "Is it true? You used them as a means to an end?"

  Praetorus stared at her. "I did. What of it?"

  "Well, I don't know you all too well, but I would say he'd be right to feel angry about it." Diana closed her eyes. "You used them as sacrificial lambs. And they were nearly killed for it."

  "But they were not. I am not concerned with their feelings on the matter, only that the mission was completed." Praetorus crossed his arms. "It is the Ashenbow way."

  "I see." Diana's eyes remained closed, but her expression morphed into a slight frown. "Is it also the Ashenbow way to discard the wounded so easily as well, as you almost had with Arthur?"

  "You misunderstand. I did not want to discard him, but to help him." Praetorus's brow furrowed. "I did not want him to suffer as my brother had suffered."

  "You brother was poisoned the same way?"

  "Indeed. Like the squire, I wanted to heal him, to keep him alive until we could find a cure." He could feel the old pang in his chest again, the familiar sensation of pain and sorrow from that day. He stifled it, as he had always done when it arose. "I prolonged his suffering for three days. He died, in greater pain than many. And it was my fault."

  "I'm sorry." Again, Diana's soft voice unnerved him. "You didn't deserve to see him die like that. No one does."

  "And you." Praetorus folded his arms across his chest. "Why are you helping him so fervently? You do not know him at all, and he is not your kin, yet you are offering your very essence to sustain him. Why?"

  "I am a healer," she replied gently. "It is my duty to help the sick and wounded."

  "You are going beyond merely helping. The squire may not know, but I do." Praetorus tightened his lips. "The spell is killing you, draining your life into his. Why?"

  Diana opened her eyes and met Praetorus'. Her gentle voice may have been disarming, but the look in her eyes was sharp enough to cut and hold his tongue.

  "I won't fail. Not again." And with that, she closed her eyes once more and focused on her task, leaving the archer in stunned silence.