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She never had and never would heal anyone the way she healed Kaine:
Enid Ferron’s lady’s maid stood beside Kaine, looking down at Helena with rheumy blue eyes. A faint whiff of something dry but organic drifted into the room with her. She was dead but so expertly reanimated, she looked almost lifelike.
“I think your scars are prettier than mine,” she finally said. “I have a better healer.”
“I’ve never gotten to tell anyone about you. I’d want someone to know what you were like.”