It's strange, Feyla thought as she approached the new House of Healing. To be a guest in a place that used to be a home.

Unlike its neighbors, the gates into the Healing House's courtyard were opened wide. An arch over the doorway was engraved with a pair of open hands reaching out as if to help a friend—the symbol of the Healer's Guild. A phrase was carved below it in Ancient's Speech, but Feyla didn't need a translator for the words she'd committed to her mind and her heart all those years ago. Do No Harm Through Touch Or Charm.

Guilt panged in her chest like an old wound. Her days as a battle healer were long over, but that phrase still served as a bitter reminder of the vow she'd broken. Healers were supposed to restore life. Not take it.

A young apprentice healer met Feyla at the entrance. "Welcome, Healer Everbloom." She bowed her head in respect. "Healer Morrowbryn is expecting you."

"Miss Everbloom," Feyla corrected.

The young girl looked at her strangely before escorting Feyla to the building. The sun shone off the simple, clean white stone as healers zipped about the courtyard carrying supplies and escorting patients around the newly-opened Healing House, their white robes standing out against their colorful sashes that signified their specialties.

At the epicenter of it all, exactly were Feyla knew she would be, stood Delia Morrowbryn. Her red-and-gold sash marked her as the Head Healer and her militant ordering of the other healers showed why.

"Delia!" Feyla shouted, waving at her friend.

The other woman broke out into a smile. "Feyla!" she called out, taking the low steps leading down into the courtyard two at a time. The two women embraced, both laughing happily.

"I've been waiting for you to stop by," Delia said as the two separated. She dismissed the apprentice with a nod of her head.

"I thought I'd give you a few days to settle in first. How's Jaerick?" Feyla asked.

"Oh, you know Jaerick. He's right in the middle of whatever disease is most likely to kill him," Delia said, dismissing her husband and fellow healer's dances with death with a flip of her hand. "He didn't want to live in the capital at first, but I finally convinced him. The guild spared no expense on this place and there was no way I was passing up the chance to run it. You must let me give you a tour before we eat."

Feyla grinned at her friend's enthusiasm as she was pulled inside.

Delia guided her into the Healing House and began showing off all of its amenities like a proud mother. She wasn't exaggerating about the guild sparing no expense, Feyla thought. The wards for the patients who couldn't stay in their homes were clean and fresh, the gardens were airy and well-maintained, and the apothecary room was stuffed with enough medicine and potion ingredients to fend off several plagues.

"And this is the library and records room," Delia continued steering them into another room lined floor to ceiling with shelves. The scent of herbs and parchment encircled everything. Expensive, magic-powered glow-lights hung from the ceiling, waiting to be triggered at night by the rune discs on a wall. "It's still a bit empty right now, but we just got in some texts and research from the guild house which will help."

Feyla nodded along even while her thoughts started drifting away. As she admired her friend's new location, memories of forgotten dreams settled on her like a fog that had blown in from the sea.

Wouldn't it be nice to open up our own little healing house one day? As much as I love this, we can't keep running around the kingdom being battle healers forever...

"Feyla?"

Feyla jerked herself out of the memory of her past words. "Everything's beautiful, Delia." She smiled, less genuinely than before as they finally sat down at a table outside to eat. "I'm sure you and Jaerick are going to love it here."

"We'd like it better if you were joining us too. Just imagine, the old team back together again!" Delia's voice sparked with excitement. "Or most of it at least. We'd stay plenty busy around here, but that doesn't mean we can't pick up the occasional mission," she said, lacing her tone in temptation.

Feyla let her smile drop. "Delia, please, not again." Her friend had been writing her about different positions and posts to try to lure her back into the fold ever since Feyla had hung up her white cloak.

Delia huffed in frustration. She jabbed her fork into the fish they were eating. "The guild leaders would be forgiving, Feyla. They understand that there are some instinctual responses that overwhelm—"

"Delia!" Feyla said, her voice finally rising above its usual friendly tone.

The other woman fell silent and shook her head. "Fine. But I still think you're going to regret this," Delia finished, her voice dripping disappointment.

Feyla's chest twisted at the sight of her friend's fallen face. "Is everything finished?" she asked. Hopefully offering a subject change would help.

Thankfully, Delia accepted it. "We're taking patients now, but one of the guild leaders is still coming in for a final inspection."

"Which one?" Feyla asked a bit too quickly.

Delia tilted her head to the side, her eyebrow rising in judgment. "I doubt it'll be your mother, Feyla. I don't know why you panic so much about her." She shook her fork as if she was scared and mimicked Feyla's voice. "Oh, not my beautiful, successful mother! Not the woman who always supported me!"

"You didn't have to grow up with her," Feyla reminded. "And if she comes then I'll have to admit—"

"Admit what?" Delia jumped on the unfinished phrase.

"Delia..."

"Come on, Feyla, we've been talking about me, now tell me about you!" Delia said, pushing the issue as usual.

Feyla bit her lip. Guess there's no avoiding it now, she thought. "I'm...seeing someone."

Delia gasped excitedly. "Really? Who? Do I know him? Is he handsome? Well-educated? How's his family? Is he that lord you wrote was interested in you?"

Feyla shook her head. That had been a while ago. "No, he broke it off when I brought up meeting his mother. This is someone new." Feyla sighed contently. "But Delia, he's all of those things. He's handsome and brilliant and has the dreamiest Northlander accent and he's good with kids and adores me and—" Feyla stopped herself. She touched her cheeks with her cool hands in an attempt to stop her blushing. "And I'm happy. I'm really, really happy."

Delia smiled, propping her chin on her hand. "Well, it sounds like you finally found someone decent. Which makes me wonder why don't you want your mother seeing him."

Feyla twisted her napkin in her hands. "Well, he's really passionate about his work."

"That's a good quality." Delia's eyes narrowed. "And now you're avoiding the question."

Feyla braced herself. Time to rip the bandage off. "He's a mage."

Delia's fork nearly slipped from her hand. Her eyes flew everywhere as if she was trying to escape the information. "I've...met some decent alchemists. We've bought from them before."

"He's not just an alchemist, Delia." Feyla finally caught her eyes. She bit her lip, waiting for her revelation to sink in.

Delia breathed in and out, still refusing to meet her gaze. Her fingers tightened around her fork before she slammed it down on her now-empty plate. "Feyla, how could you? A mage? A full mage? You know how the guild feels about those who use their magic for nothing but selfishness and violence."

"He's not like that!" Feyla insisted. Two more healers eating nearby turned their heads. Feyla blushed and dropped her voice.

"Every mage is like that!" Delia exclaimed, uncaring of who was nearby. "They take magic—which literally comes from life—and use it to snuff out the light of others. And then they have the nerve to act like they're any better than the wizards and the sorceresses."

"Mages don't draw power from hellgates," Feyla said, keeping her voice calm while her insides were in turmoil. She clenched her dress in her hands, trying to stop the shaking. Feyla understood Delia's views. At one time, they'd matched her own perfectly. Yet while her interpretation of magical misuse had loosened in the past century, it didn't stop the pressure that swelled in her chest as her friend resurrected every reason she herself had once tried to use to stop her growing feelings.

Delia leaned back in her chair. A line appeared in her dusky forehead as she looked down her long nose at Feyla. "Think about this. Your mother's never going to give her blessing on a mage."

Feyla jutted her chin out. "She will. I just need to ease her into it, and once she gets to know Sedgewick—"

Delia's ear flinched forward at the sound of that foreign name. "Did you just say who I think you said?"

Feyla's hand flew to her mouth, but the damage was already done. She bit her lip and nodded her head.

"Sedgewick Alverdyne?"

She nodded again.

Delia threw her hands up in the air in disgust. "I swear, your taste in men gets worse every decade. The Minister of Magic? You couldn't fall in love with a merchant or a tradesman or a farmer?"

Feyla rose from her chair and leaned closer to her friend, pouring every ounce of persuasion into her voice. "Let me introduce you! Sedgewick actually asked to meet you today."

"I don't really want to meet the man who stands for everything we're against. Sitting across from him at a trial was enough for me," Delia said, rising from her own chair in turn.

"Please? If he's that bad, then you should get a chance to prove me wrong, right?" Feyla asked, grabbing her friend's hands as they started walking toward the main courtyard.

Delia huffed. "All right. But only for you and not till after the final guild inspection."

Feyla trapped her friend in a hug. "Thanks, Delia."

Delia rolled her eyes and hugged her back. "I guess Jaerick and I can handle one visit, but...it's not my approval you need to worry about."

"I'll handle my mother." Eventually, Feyla added inwardly as they reached the front gate.

"You're being a bit naive about—"

Delia didn't get a chance to finish before the world lit up in flames.