In the past no one was ready to heal anyone because it was disadvantageous for them. But suddenly then the story took a turn for a moment. When John forgets about the secret room and all these things.
Lord Eric, chieftain of the warrior-bred clan, stood outside the balcony with one hand on the hilt of his sword. The scars on his forearm glinted dully in the moon—old reminders of a hundred battles won for his clan.
But there was one scar, carved deep across his chest, that still ached whenever the night turned bitter.
Eric's eyes chilled. That scar should have killed him years ago. It was not men's medicine, nor the work of any warrior, that had saved him. It was Elsa's father—a healer who worked magic that was forbidden to men.
The recollection of that moment stayed in Eric's heart like a holy whisper, and ever since then he had guarded Elsa, the healer's daughter, as if she were of his own blood.
