“My people have ways of healing wounds,” she said. “It will sap your strength for a short time, but once it is complete you should be able to walk again.”

“Is that why I can’t move my arms?”

“Most likely,” she said. Reaching down, she picked up one of his hands and lifted it. The muscles quivered and his fingers shook, but the feeling of her hunter-rough hands on his sent electric tingles down his spine. “Can you hold it here?”

She let go, and the hand dropped like a stone to the ground. He winced as it struck. “I cannot.”

Emelethana nodded grimly. “The fever must have been worse than I thought.”

“Fever?”

“It felt as though you had lit a campfire behind your eyes,” she said, with a little smile.

“That’s not generally a healthy thing to do.”