Page 14 of The Infirmary for Dragon Burns and Midair Mishaps

“Or what?” she said, finally holding her hand out.

“Or I’ll squeeze extra hard when I replace the bandage.”

“That’s not very nice of you.”

“That’s what patients get for deliberately making my job difficult.” My eyes flicked up to meet hers briefly. “And I never said I was nice.”

She made a sound of discontent, but I ignored her, focusing on my exam once again. Immediately, I could tell the bandage had been clumsily retied. In fact, it was barely covering the wound at all. My mind screamed the word infection. I could imagine it now: the red-hot itch. The swelling. The fever. The white pus that would ooze from the bite before the necrotic tissue ate away at her.

“Why do you look like you just stepped in dragon dung?” Vaela said.

“Because you clearly didn’t listen to a word I said yesterday about wound care.” I uncorked the bottle I’d retrieved from the apothecary. “Are you trying to lose your whole hand? This looks like it was wrapped by a child.”

“I’ll let Dalton know he has no future as a healer,” Vaela snarked.

“I have no idea who Dalton is.”

“He maintains the nesting shed. And he’s only eighteen, so practically still a child.”

“I suppose I’ll let him off then.” I carefully unwrapped the bandage and set it aside to discard.

“But not me?”

“You’re old enough to know better,” I said.

“And how old do you think I am?”

She shifted her hand, flexing. I latched onto her wrist, holding it in place. “At least as old as me.”

“And how old is that?”

“A lady never tells.” The corner of her mouth curled upward. It was the tiniest smirk I’d ever seen in my life. “Twenty-four,” I told her. “How’d the bandage come off in the first place?”

“I ride a dragon for a living,” she grunted. “It’s not that complicated.”

I paused and hummed, hand on her wrist. I could feel her pulse flutter. “I suppose you’re right.”

She barked an unexpected laugh. It was deeper than I would have imagined. “Excuse me? Did you just say I was right?”

I plowed on before she could start gloating. “I only mean that I’ll have to allow for that. Usually, I send my patients home with orders to rest until they’re healed. But you can’t very well pick and choose when you need to wrangle dragons.”

“Finally, something reasonable out of that mouth.”

Was she looking at my mouth? I swallowed hard, shoving that thought aside. “As much as I’d like to tell you to take it easy until this has scabbed over, I doubt you’d listen anyway.”

She scoffed, the corner of her mouth twitching again. I held her arm closer to the lantern, my eyes flickering over the wound. It didn’t look any worse than it did yesterday. At the very least, the redness wasn’t spreading, and that was always the first sign. That and⁠—

“How’s your pain?” I asked.

“Manageable,” she said. “I’ve had worse scrapes.”

I didn’t doubt that. I held up the bottle of antiseptic, giving her fair warning before I poured it over the wound. She didn’t flinch this time. “But no worse?” I said. “No burning?”

“Aside from when you pour that horrible stuff over it?” She shook her head. “More like a dull ache. Occasionally sharp if I move it wrong. But nothing that’s keeping me up at night.”

Which was impressive since a dragon had put its teeth through her hand only yesterday. “Let me know if that changes,” I said, picking up a fresh roll of bandages.

Her eyes widened. “You mean I have to come back? Again?”