In the darkness, Griffine saw Freya lying unconscious. She crawled over, pushed the girl from Buchi, and called her name softly. But Freya was wrapped in thick bandages, crudely applied by the women they had found in a nearby town—the minimum care the Wizards had given them at Antitina's request.
Griffine felt that Freya's breathing was extremely weak, coming and going. She touched the female knight's forehead with her cold hand and found it burning hot. Her wound had festered and become inflamed. The long, narrow sword wound was close to her lungs and heart, and Griffine's knowledge of natural history and medicine, gained through her royal education, told her that an infection this severe could very well claim the Valkyrie's life.
The discovery filled Griffine with anxiety. She gripped Freya's hand tightly. The female knight needed a qualified priest, or at least a cleric capable of casting healing spells, to stabilize her condition. But the people outside might not care whether they lived or died. Besides, the soldiers in the camp were unlike the educated Wizards—the poorly educated Noble Private Soldiers were themselves a potential danger.
The Wizard who had brought them here had already warned her to stay in their tent as much as possible. Otherwise, they would bear the consequences themselves.
In the darkness, Princess Griffine finally remembered something. Her hand moved inch by inch down her neck until she felt the pendant of the necklace at her collarbone. Perhaps out of confidence, or perhaps because they had not regarded her "maidservant" as worth searching, the Wizards had not searched her. They had only taken the weapons she and Freya carried, including the Lionheart Sword.
Griffine's heart seemed to settle.
The necklace had once been her birthday present. On her seventh birthday, her father had solemnly given