I pulled the last splinter from Kiki’s copper coat, then washed her wounds before smearing on one of Leif’s healing salves. Thinking of Leif, I calculated the timing of his trip. My brother should have reached the jungle by now. Had our father started cultivating the spores?

The pain in my chest, which had died down to a smolder while I’d been distracted, flared to life once more. Would Valek divulge that information to the Cartel? He was resistant to goo-goo juice, but not to magic. And Cilly would take great delight in scrambling Valek’s brains as she searched for information. Revenge for killing her brother.

“Thank you.” Fisk interrupted my morose thoughts. “For...” He swept a hand wide. “Rescuing me, and getting my kids to safety. Despite the danger.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, it was my turn.” I touched his shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

That surprised a laugh from him. “I don’t know if I can top today. When I saw you hunched over, screaming about the baby, for a moment I actually worried you were going to squat down and pop the kid out right there in the lobby.”

Pop the kid out? If only it would be that easy. “Don’t worry. I’ve about two seasons to go.”

We shared a look as we both acknowledged the unspoken—if I survived that long. If any of us did.

Fisk wrapped his arms around his stomach. “I’m sorry about Valek.”

“Me, too, but he knew the risks. And he’s escaped worse situations. The man doesn’t know how to quit. And we shouldn’t, either.” Energized, I grabbed my saddle bags and headed for the house. “Come on. Your people are going to be hungry and thirsty when they arrive.”

The place was just as dark and empty as it had been the last time I’d visited. Just to be safe, I did a sweep of all the rooms. When I returned, Fisk was building a lattice of branches for a fire. I moved to help him, but he waved me off.

“Go get cleaned up or you’re gonna scare my kids.” He pointed to his cheek.

I touched mine. Ow. My fingers came away sticky with blood. So worried about everyone else, I’d forgotten about my own injuries. In the washroom, I plucked splinters from my face, neck, hand and arm. Just like with Kiki, I cleaned the wounds and rubbed a healing ointment into the stinging cuts. By that point, my disguise was ruined. I scraped off the putty and untangled my black hair. At least Valek had left the strands long enough for me to collect them into a single braid. It reached just past my shoulders.

A fire roared in the hearth. Fisk huddled next to it, soaking in its heat.

I sat next to him. “Bad enough to be locked in a cell, but then the cold dampness seeps into your bones until you believe you’ll never be warm again.”

“Yeah, I hadn’t experienced it before.” He watched the flames as they danced. “I’ve been hungry, poor, homeless, alone and afraid, but I’ve never been so helpless and terrified. So...”

“Exposed?”

“Ripped apart.” He rubbed a hand over his short beard. “All my thoughts and memories laid bare. All my secrets. My kids who depend on me...taken. Nothing I did made a bit of difference.”

“I know. It’s rough, and it leaves you feeling raw. But you walked away with your personality and memories intact. You’re still Fisk. They could have taken that, as well.”

“So, I should be grateful?” His tone was bitter.

“Not at all. Just think about it. As bad as it feels right now, and when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and ignore the world, remember—you are alive, both body and soul. You didn’t die, so don’t act like it. There are a lot of others who can’t say the same thing.”

“Is that your idea of a pep talk?”

“Yup. Mind you, it’s just plain old Yelena’s words of wisdom from her own experiences, and not the Soulfinder talking.”

“That’s okay. I’ve heard the Soulfinder is a bit of a drama queen anyway,” he teased—a good sign for his recovery.

“Tell me about it. Plus, she’s always in the middle of trouble.”

His small smile widened suddenly. “Cilly didn’t get everything.”

It took me a moment to follow his shift in topic. “No?”

“No. She doesn’t know about your deal with Cahil, thank fate!”

“Why not?”

“She didn’t know to ask or to look. Bruns is confident that his people are loyal.”

Thank fate, indeed.

As Fisk warmed up, an unpleasant odor emanated from him. Unfortunately, I was well-acquainted with the reek of dungeon. I sent him to get cleaned up before his kids arrived.

Around midnight, they started trickling in, either alone or in pairs. All were tired and hungry, but still had enough energy to give their leader a hug or a high-five. We fed them and sent them to bed. The farmhouse had plenty of bedrooms.

“Not many helpers left,” Fisk said in a dejected tone.

“Phelan said none of your guild were killed. They’ve been sent to the other garrisons, which is a good thing for us.”

“They’ve been brainwashed and forced to work for the Cartel. How is that a good thing?”

I’d forgotten that he didn’t know about the spores. Without telling him all the details, I said, “There will come a time when they’ll recover their senses, and then they’ll be in the perfect position to help us stop the Cartel.”

Fisk shook his head. “My guild has gone in well over our heads. It’s too dangerous for them.”