I stayed by the fire as the sun inched higher, chasing away the early chill, but nothing could warm the coil of unease twisting tighter in my belly.
I was still sitting there, mind spinning, when Maelra returned—this time with another woman trailing behind her. She was older, with silver threaded through her dark braid, and skin like aged parchment wrapped around sharp eyes. A leather satchel swung from her shoulder.
"Violet," Maelra said in a low voice. "This is Ilyra. She's our healer."
I stood slowly, tension spiking in my chest. "That's not necessary. I don't even know for sure if—"
Maelra cut me off with a look. "Better to know than to wonder. Ilyra's discreet."
The healer gave me a small, reassuring nod. "I won't pry. But if you've been sick more than once, and you've missed your bleeding… we can find out."
I hesitated, fingers brushing the pendant still hidden under my cloak. Garrick's words echoed in the back of my mind.
"You may need your mate sooner than you expect."
