I couldn't stand it any longer. The sight of those guards manhandling a desperate mother with a sick child in her arms sent rage coursing through my veins.
"Stop!" I shouted, rushing forward before I could stop myself.
The guards turned, surprised by my interruption. The mother looked up at me with tear-filled eyes, clutching her son protectively. The witch—apparently the healer we sought—raised an eyebrow at my audacity.
"I'll pay for the boy's medicine," I declared, praying I had enough coins left from what Damian had grudgingly provided for our journey.
"And who might you be?" the woman asked, her gaze traveling from my face down to the magical collar around my neck, her expression changing to one of understanding.
"It doesn't matter who I am," I replied, stepping between the guards and the cowering mother. "Just help the child."
The healer's painted lips curved into a mocking smile. "You'll pay three coins for a stranger's child? How touching."
