Eli wanted to protest, to leap down from the table and leave before he could no longer find the resolve to do so, but he was already unable to find the will to make his feet move, so he waited for Kit to return with a small jar in her hand.

She scooped up a generous portion and rubbed it gently over the cut, her stitches having done the job of completely stopping the bleeding. “Will you see your mother or your sister? Can one of them treat this for you, or shall I send this jar with you?”

“I will see them,” he assured her, thinking she shouldn’t send...