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Your women dont fight. How does this healing thing work? asks Violet, intrigued. Copycats. Salyer was a media favorite. I crossed my legs, refusing to fall for his intimidation tactics. There are always a few followers—copycat killers that spring up after someone like him is captured or killed. Violet rips the flowers from her fingers and glares at her friend.You didnt think? Says it all, doesnt it? She reaches out and wipes her fingers on Catherines coat, glaring at her, daring her to say something. Catherine looks at the floor. Very well, she replied, a little more calmly. If you explain why you didnt become a Seer. Of course, sir, she says, automatically. You know me better than anyone. Sorry? No. Not yet. Its fine, she whispered the words to him, keeping her voice calm. The Roh family—the few of them who remained—took their duties as servants to her line far too seriously for Jerens comfort. From bodyguards to ladies in waiting, she had always been surrounded by Rohs. Following her escape from River Holt, Gilliad had accused them all of treachery and by his actions made the survivors even more devoted to her. She couldnt just dismiss them. They’d laugh at her if she tried. A Roh was born, not made. Nevertheless, little one, at least let me walk with you. Nor me, says Rowan, dropping his voice. Look, were just helping the day pass by. Im healing. Shes my helper. It’s a game, really. I want to show her how the job actually works – or how it used to. Its in the car. In here, hed said, unnecessarily, as he opened the dark wooden door and led her into a bedroom so murky that the walls and furnishings seemed to swallow the light. Eve had been pleased to see an Oriental, high-backed chair by the door to the bathroom, plonking herself down immediately and looking up at tobacco-coloured ceiling beams – the same dark staining as the floorboards, upon which a vintage green and pale pink Chinese wool rug has been vacuumed flat. The big four-poster bed faces the window - three arched panels of glass exuding a church-like air: a triptych of fell. I see a warrior. One who knows his mind. He wants your support, but I do not think you can wholly trust him, Jeren. He still wants a figurehead for his cause. Not to mention the strength she could give his cause if she was his wife as originally intended. Meeting Shan had changed all that. When he pulled her out of the wreckage of the coach, when hed helped her, taught her... when shed fallen in love with him instead of bowing graciously to the duty of marriage her father had intended. The shadow of that duty still persisted. The vision granted her at the pools of AranMor had seen her wed to Vertigern, ruling as lord and lady of River Holt. One of her visions, anyway. The other had promised a life with Shan. How could both be true? He hates your brother. Now more than ever. The wordmate made Jerens gaze snap onto Shan. He opened his mouth, wishing he would explain, knowing he couldnt say a word. Its not that I dont need you, Shan. She reached for him, but he pulled away. Shan, please. I didnt mean that. The Ariah caught Shans look and scowled..