Sundown coughed as someone poured a bitter liquid down her throat.

  “She’s alive, at least,” said a woman’s quiet voice, as though from a great distance.

  “Will she live?” That was Chane. Why did he sound so muffled?

  “She needs lots of fluids and about fifteen stitches, but I think she’ll live.”

  Of course Sundown would live. She was a bloodwitch. She’d lived through worse things than a little scratch on her arm.

  Oh, right. The direlun. She remembered now.

  “What do I owe you?”

  Money. Sundown’s heart flew to her throat. She couldn’t afford a surgeon’s fee!

  She tried to move, tried to say something but she wasn’t able to do more than roll her head.

  The surgeon must have thought this was a cue to pour more of that horrid substance into her mouth, and Sundown once again had to swallow or choke on the liquid. It tasted like an over-steeped tea mixed with vinegar, and had a strange metallic trace to it that gave her a hint of… blood?

  “That’s a fair price,” Chane said, and Sundown realized she had missed the transaction during her fit of coughing.

  She tried to speak, tried to get their attention. Blood rushed in her ears as she struggled.

  She could only manage a weak groan. She was so weak. She hated being weak.

  “Rest, dear,” said a soft voice, and Sundown was lowered onto a bed.

  The bed could have been rocks for all that Sundown cared. To her it was a cloud.

  Another dose of the bitter medicine, and she began to feel as though she and her body had parted ways, as though all her sensations were coming from a great distance.

  And then darkness took her again.

  Sundown sat in a chair in the living room of the midwife’s house, as close to the fire as she could bear, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. She was close enough that if the flames shifted they could have wilted her hair, but still her cheeks were ice.

  She should have felt scared. Anxious, at the least. She just felt cold. A little bored, rather frustrated, but other than that, nothing.

  Her lack of emotion should have scared her. Not even the direlun had done more than raise her blood pressure briefly. It seemed nothing scared her anymore.

  A stooped, white-haired woman shuffled in from the kitchen holding a teapot like a dagger.

  “Lore, please,” Sundown begged, shying back from the elderly woman.

  “You’ll keep drinking my tea until your infection is gone.” The midwife poured a cup and presented it to Sundown as if she were trying to push it down her throat.

  Sundown accepted the cup just to keep her teeth intact, and took the smallest of sips, getting more liquid on her lip than in her mouth.

  “I’ve seen mosquitos drink more than that,” Lore said. “How are you supposed to get better if you don’t refresh your strength?”

  “My strength would be a lot more refreshed with a draught of barkworm infusion.”

  “Sorry, no liquor for patients.”

  “Just let me burn a little blood. It will take one, maybe two ounces to get this infection—”

  Lore rapped her on the top of her head with a boney knuckle. “Don’t even think about it. You bloodwitches burn your blood like you’ve got buckets to spare, until you’re passing out in the woods. Your body needs your blood in your veins, not drifting in the ether. Now drink.”

  She humored the woman with another, larger, drink. Every muscle in her gut fought to send the tea back where it came from, but she managed to keep it down, if only to avoid Lore’s ire.

  “Good. Now stay warm. If you need something I’ll be in the kitchen. Once you finish your tea, I’ll let you try some broth and bread.”

  Sundown waited until Lore was out of sight before setting the cup on the seat next to her. The tea, if it could even be called that, was worse when cold, but that was no reason to drink it faster. Delaying the inevitable was the only thing she had any agency over at the moment.

  “Hey, Sundown,” a voice hissed from the open window.

  A girl’s head bobbed into view, and though Sundown only caught from the eyes up, she recognized her.

  “Constant? What are you doing here?”

  “Come here.” Constant waved her over.

  Sundown rose and slowly stepped her way to the window. “Why are we whispering?”

  “I don’t want Lore to catch me ‘disturbing her patients’ or whatever she says.” Constant was perched up on a firewood log standing on its end just to reach the window. “I don’t think I disturb anyone. Why are you at the midwife’s house, anyways? Are you pregnant? My mom says it takes nine months to grow a baby, but you didn’t have a bump last time I saw you. Did Chane get you pregnant? I saw him yesterday without you and I thought maybe you had died, or he killed you or something.”

  Sundown put her hand to her head as exhaustion swept over her. This was not what she needed.

  “I got into a fight with a direlun. Lore is the only person in town who could stitch me up.”

  “Lore gave me stitches once. Want to see?” She held up a finger. “I was dressing a fallock for dinner and the knife slipped. Why are you still here if Lore already gave you stitches?”

  Sundown was wondering the same thing. “I have an infection.”

  “Can’t you make yourself well? You’re a bloodwitch. Just burn some blood.”

  “I can’t,” she said hollowly. “I lost a lot of blood when—wait, who told you I was a bloodwitch?”

  Constant reached into her satchel, pulled out a paper and placed it up on the windowsill.

  Chane’s face stared up at Sundown in harsh ink lines.

  “I got this from the constable’s desk. He’s going to wonder where it went, but I don’t think he’ll notice for a while. His desk is messy, papers everywhere. I don’t think he even listened to the post messenger when she left it for him.”

  Sundown couldn’t read very well, but she knew a “Wanted” poster when she saw one.

  This poster was offering a hundred scythers for any information that led to the arrest of Chane Vespers, Shadow Hunter. He had a long list of offences levied against him, including the slaughter of five Hendrguards. And one of the lines at the bottom mentioned that Chane could be traveling with a young bloodwitch.

  Sundown cursed.

  “My mom says that when she burns her hand on the kettle, but she doesn’t like it when I say it.” Constant pointed to the reward. “One-hundred scythers for any information. I could buy a new gorehound with that, maybe even a marven. I like riding marvens.”

  “Constant, please.” Sundown caught the girl’s hands and squeezed as hard as she could in her weakened state. “Promise me you won’t turn us in.”

  “I promise. I don’t think I can keep a marven at my house anyways. Dad doesn’t want to build a stable. Mom tried to make him build one last spring, but he had too many jobs and it didn’t happen. Besides, I want my shadow back, too. Chane is helping you get your shadow back, so maybe he can get mine while he’s at it. Will you get my shadow back for me?”

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  “We’ll try, Constant.” Sundown barely could keep her patience. “Does anyone else know that Chane is in town?”

  “I think Lore does. She knows Chane from before, though. She knows a lot of people. One time the baron’s son rode through town—”

  She cut off as she noticed something down the street.

  “Oops, I have to go!”

  She shot out from under the windowsill, crossing the street in an instant.

  Sundown folded up the poster and hid it next to her breast. She would worry about it later. Right then she was having trouble standing up straight.

  She made her way back to the fireplace, and was getting up the courage to take another drink of Lore’s tea when the front door opened.

  Chane lumbered in, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands. He was bundled up to his eyes with a scarf and furs, which was as good a disguise as anyone could ask for.

  “Any progress?” he asked in a cheerful, muffled voice.

  “I can sit up without feeling like I’m going to pass out,” Sundown said. He didn’t need to know what standing took out of her.

  “You should probably still be lying down.” Chane pulled off his scarf and loosened his furs, but he didn’t remove his shoes or move far from the door.

  “I’ve tried to get her to rest,” Lore said, coming out from the kitchen. “She’s incorrigible.”

  “I’m bored,” Sundown said. “I’ve wasted nearly an entire week resting here, and I’m no closer to getting my shadow back.”

  “Is she getting better?” Chane asked Lore.

  “She gets restless lying down, so I let her sit near the fire, but the moment she gets up to do anything she exhausts herself.”

  Traitor, Sundown thought.

  “Does the infection seem to be lifting?”

  “As far as I can tell. But her body is so small; with the amount of blood she lost, I’m surprised she can even go to the toilet on her own.”

  “I’m right here,” Sundown said sharply. “And I can tell you that I’d feel a lot better if I wasn’t forced to keep drinking that concoction you call ‘tea’ every two hours.”

  “Sundown, please humor Lore.” Chane gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know being sick and weak is unpleasant.”

  “I’m not weak!” She put a hand to her head as the sudden effort of shouting made her dizzy.

  Lore clicked her tongue. “Try not to get excited, child. Chane dear, any progress on my payment?”

  “That’s part of why I’m here. I’ve found a lead, but it could take me a few days to chase it down.”

  “Ah. It’s been a full week, hasn’t it?”

  Chane nodded grimly, and Sundown felt uneasy.

  “What are we talking about?”

  “Blood,” Chane said. “I need a dose of fresh blood.”

  She remembered the deal she had made with Chane.

  “Right. Two scythers a drink?”

  “One.” He wagged a finger at her. “And a meal to help you recover your stamina. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that to Lore this time, as I’m wrapped up in business.”

  “Just a moment,” Lore said. “She has barely enough for herself. Take a drink of mine this time.”

  Chane looked uncomfortable as the white-haired woman shuffled her way across the floor.

  “You need your blood, Lore,” he protested.

  “You aren’t touching any of Sundown’s blood until she’s back to full health. Now stop being finicky and get a bowl or glass ready.” She pulled out a surgeon’s scalpel from her belt.

  Sundown watched with morbid fascination as Lore cut across her wrinkled arm and let it drain off her elbow into Chane’s waiting cup. It looked like a good three or four ounces before Chane had her stop it with a clean cloth.

  “I’ll worry about stitches later,” Lore said. “Drink up.”

  Chane looked awkward as Sundown and the midwife watched him. He downed the glass in one swift motion with a grimace.

  Sundown could have imagined it, but it looked like something dark covered his face for a moment, and his eyes glowed black. Then he was his usual self again.

  “I’ll be back in a few days,” Chane said. “Be good to Lore, Sundown, and try to get better.”

  “Not like I’m trying to stay ill,” she said under her breath. “Are you even going to tell me what this ‘payment’ is that you’ve worked out with Lore?”

  “In good time,” Chane said. “Lore, go take a seat, you’re looking pale.”

  Lore nodded wearily. She stumbled as she made her way to a chair by the fire, and Chane had to steady her.

  “Sorry,” the midwife said with a chuckle. “I’m so used to seeing blood loss in my patients, I’m a little surprised when the symptoms happen to me.” She tightened the cloth on her arm, already showing the stain of blood soaking through.

  “Time for your tonic?” Sundown offered.

  “For you, yes. I’m vegetarian, so I’ll be drinking something else.”

  “Vegetar—Lore, what in the shades is in that tea?”

  Chane laughed and pulled his scarf back over his mouth. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  As he left, Sundown’s instincts drew her attention to his face. He wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. In fact, he looked uncomfortable.

  He was hiding something from her.

  “Sundown, child,” Lore said with a slight affect to her voice. “You need to finish your tea.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “Fresh pot in the kitchen. Could you get me a cup of bittertrop while you’re up? I’m a little woozy.”

  “I thought there was rule about liquor for patients.”

  “I’m the midwife. I do what I want. You are the patient, and will also do what I want. Please,” she added with a smile.

  Sundown rose and balanced her way to the kitchen, huddled in her blanket. She poured herself a fresh cup of the tea Lore had prepared, and put off drinking it by fetching Lore a small cup of the strong-smelling bittertrop from the back shelf of her cupboard.

  As she poured the cup of liquor, Sundown’s gaze rested on an assortment of dried herbs and mushrooms that had been left on the counter—as well as something that looked distinctly animal in origin.

  She shuddered and went to take the drink to Lore, then paused as her eyes caught one of the ingredients on the counter.

  The mushrooms were tall and cone-shaped, and the gills extended from the cap down the stem. Terraced Nightcap. A painkiller, mild hallucinogen, and extremely powerful sedative.

  And apparently, the main ingredient in her tea.

  “That’s why I’ve been so lightheaded.” Her lips pressed into a grim, thin line.

  Whatever Chane was doing for Lore, he wanted Sundown out of the way for it. And Lore had been keeping Sundown in sleepy compliance for him.

  Well, two could play at that game.

  Sundown took a pinch of the small pile of chopped mushrooms and dropped them into Lore’s drink. She wasn’t sure how much would do the trick, but she figured at least as much as the woman had been giving to her would be enough to send her off to a deep sleep.

  She stirred the mushrooms until they had slightly dissolved and settled in the bottom of the cup, where Lore was less likely to notice them among the grain of the wood. Then she took it into the living room.

  Lore drained the whole cup without hesitation, and made sure to ask if Sundown had taken her own drink.

  “Tasty as ever,” Sundown said. “I’m feeling tired, so I’m going to my room to rest.”

  “I think that would be best, dear.” Lore yawned. “I have a few things to clean up in the kitchen, so I’ll just be down here.” She watched Sundown go up most of the steps, but her eyes were already drooping, and when Sundown checked from the top of the stairs, the midwife’s eyes were closed serenely.

  Sundown packed her travel bags quietly and quickly. She found that now she knew the source of her languor, she could more easily deal with it. Action was tiring, but necessary to burn the Nightcap out of her system, and after she pushed through the first five minutes of movement, she found her strength returning. She burned the smallest bit of blood, her first burn since the direlun’s attack, and the fog lifted entirely.

  Shouldering her bag, she felt nearly invincible.

  The midwife was fast asleep in the living room, head tilted back and sounding like a chorus of frogs.

  Sundown checked the bandage on the woman’s arm; she didn’t want Lore bleeding to death on her conscience. The bleeding had stopped, and Sundown felt satisfied.

  Then, on a whim, she burned some of the woman’s blood from the bandage, and began searching her memories. She unraveled the days back to the moment Chane had arrived with Sundown.

  An image came to her mind of Chane holding Sundown in his arms, from Lore’s perspective. Sundown always felt odd looking at other people’s memories of herself.

  Lore was shocked but pleased to see Chane, especially when Chane offered a trade that would pay for Sundown’s treatment.

  The words were faint, but “Cursed” and “Faceless” stood out prominently among the muddle. She burned more of Lore’s blood to make the memory come in clearer.

  “Get rid of it for us, and I’ll do anything you ask,” Lore had promised.

  “That’s a fair price,” Chane had said. “Keep her safe for me. Don’t let her get into any trouble. I need her to find the Thaelun.”

  “Good heavens, Chane. You’re not thinking of trying to take a shadow from a Thaelun, are you?” Lore’s voice and emotions revealed her disappointment.

  “It’s as good a chance as any. Promise me you’ll keep her out of the way until I need her.”

  The memory faded as the blood ran dry from the cloth.

  “Odd,” she muttered. “What did he mean, ‘As good a chance as any’?”

  Apparently he wanted to find the Thaelun for his own purposes, and needed her to do it.

  Meanwhile, Lore was having him get rid of a Faceless as payment for healing Sundown.

  Well, if they had to pay back Lore, Sundown intended to be a part of it. Nobody was going have any debts to hang over her head. She had enough of those already.

  Besides, she had killed a Faceless before. How difficult would another be?

  Lacing her shoes tightly, she slipped out the doorway and into the cool morning air.

  She had a Cursed to kill.