“He’s dead,” the healer spoke over the shoulder of her gray dress. “If you are the one who killed him, there is a way to bring his life back.”

“I am not a murderer.” Ronan frowned, clearly not liking the woman’s accusing black eyes when she faced him. “He is a guard from Merisgale Castle. He was supposed to collect the King’s Sword. Before he died he said something about being ambushed.”

“A likely story.” Her words laced with sarcasm so thick it should have choked her. It brought Ronan’s narrowed gaze up from the dead man. Who was this woman to accuse him?

“I did not kill this man.” Ronan crossed his large arms. It was a trick he’d learned years ago for making himself appear larger than he really was. Instantly, it worked and Arien took a step away from him but the witch would not be intimidated.

“Hmm.” She looked as if she wasn’t certain if she could believe him. “No chance that perhaps you wanted the sword for yourself?”

“Why would I want it? I couldn’t use it.” Ronan was growing more irritated with the woman by the moment.

“Don’t be a fool. Anyone can use the King’s Sword. But it has to be used only against Sleagan’s dark forces.

Arien gave a startled cry, his eyes widening at the easiness in which the healer had spoken the name. Ronan just stared at the woman.

“It is just a name.” She looked at the boy. “It’s not the name you have to be afraid of.”

Ronan began to grow suspicious. “How is it you came to be so close by?”

She eyed him steadily, and then shrugged her thin shoulders. “I have a gift of knowing where and when I am needed. I had a feeling this morning and began walking in this direction. Unfortunately, that gift doesn’t account for old age slowing me down. It seems I’m too late to save this man.”

Ronan made a quick decision not to accuse her of anything. “Even if I wanted the sword I would know nothing of using one against anyone. I just make the weapons. The business of what is done with them belongs to others.”