“Please. My Lizzie’s dying.” Despite the stench, I kneel.
Air oozes past the witch’s teeth. “I’ll grant healer’s touch. But there’s a price. You can only use it once.”
Pain infests my hands. Fingers clasped, I race home.
Can’t risk wasting it on the wonky door. The hinges give on the second kick.
Tumbling forward, I stretch my arms out. My chin strikes the bed-frame, but my palms land on Lizzie.
Summer sun fills the hut and music swirls around.
As they fade, so do her blotches.
When the Duke demands I cure his daughter, I understand the price.