Page 75 of A Whisper of Cinders

I quickly look away. I really don’t want to cry in front of him. Why can’t he just return to being a smug bastard. I prefer that, I think. Or at least at this moment I do.

We’ve reached the Sanctum, the pull of the tree immediate and even stronger than this afternoon. I stumble, as if the force pulls me to the ground.

Conláed looks over his shoulder. “Everything okay back there?”

My cheeks turn red, I hope he doesn’t notice. “Perfectly fine, I stumbled over a protruding root.” I hear him nicker softly. We both know there are no roots sticking out of the level flooring.

I follow him into the healing area and Althea walks over to us, most of her patients sound asleep or in a good enough state to take care of themselves for a little moment.

“Maily! Back so soon?” Her eyes move toward Conláed, eyebrows rising slightly. “And with company. What did you do this time?”

He holds up his hands. “This wasn’t because of my training Althea, I am not a brute.” He gestures for me to come closer and I reluctantly do so. “Tell her, feather, or I will.”

I inwardly roll my eyes. “I hurt my hands.”

Althea breaches the distance between us. “Both of them? Did you get yourself burned? Let me see — oh.”

She examines my hands much in the same way Conláed did moments earlier. “Dear moons Conláed, couldn’t you have brought her in sooner?”

“Well…”

“It isn’t his fault, he wasn’t there. I hit a punching bag without protection and…voila.”

He really was going to take the blame for me? For what reason? Althea lets go of my hands and gestures for me to enter the empty room on our left. “Go inside and sit down. Don’t move an inch. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Knowing she will not tolerate any contradiction, I enter the room and sit on the bed, my legs dangling off the side. She’s talking to Conláed, their voices too silent for my ears to pick up. He gives me a quick glance, full lips pressed in a tight line, before he walks in the opposite direction.

Althea disappears out of sight, but returns shortly after, carrying a basket with supplies. She rolls a small stool towards the bed and sits down, the basket standing on the small cart next to her.

She pulls the table closer and lays out a sterile field, placing my hands on top of it before she begins cleaning the wounds. “You don’t have to talk about what happened, I don’t expect you to.” The disinfectant stings, but with all the pain — physical and mental — I can handle another burn. “But please take care of these two. Correction, take care of your whole body. It does so much for you.”

She gently squeezes my fingertips before continuing with the treatment, applying a thick, sweet floral scented ointment. “I will bandage your hands so the ointment can really sink into the wounds overnight. You should be fine by tomorrow morning, meaning the wounds should be closed and you can walk around without covering them. That does not mean you can go punching anything or anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

I nod twice. I know she is a kind soul, but she can be a little scary and you really don’t want to end on her bad side. She takes her profession very seriously. And that is actually a good thing. She makes the bandaging look so easy, but the criss-cross pattern is quite complicated to do and one that took me many tries to master.

“Perfect. Now, don’t forget to move your fingers so they don’t get stiff and —” She stands up, grabs five small veils from the table behind her and hands them over to me. “Drink one now and the rest over the next four days. It is to ease the pain and to stimulate healing, prevent inflammation and kill any germs that might have entered your blood flow, if that would be necessary.”

I pop the cork of the little bottle and bring it to my lips, the golden liquid a syrup-like consistency and it takes me a couple of times to swallow it down. It tastes a little like honey. “Thank you, Althea. For everything.”

“My pleasure, although I do hope the next time I see you here, it isn’t as one of my patients, hm?”

Deciding it might be wiser to not answer that, I hop off the table and leave the patient room, nearly bumping into Conláed who carries a tray with some delicious smelling food. “Whoa, easy there, feather. Adding burns to your injuries wouldn’t do you any good. Although you would be at the right place.” He lifts the bell jar up and reveals a divine looking pasta. “It’s pasta with mushrooms, nothing special really, but I wasn’t sure what you like to eat. Pasta seems a safe option, because who doesn’t like that and the mushrooms were a lucky guess.”

He looks at me with uncertainty, as if he really hopes I like the food. I mean, he brought me food. A man was thoughtful enough to think about my needs when I couldn’t do it for myself, even after I told him I wasn’t hungry.

Oh, Conláed, the man that you are. What other secrets have you got up your sleeve? “Thank you, that is very considerate of you. You really shouldn’t have.”

“I do though, you wouldn’t have eaten if it were up to you.”

He is right, although I won’t admit that.

“I can take care of myself.”

He takes in my now bandaged hand before our gazes lock. “I can see that.” The burning sensation that had just ebbed away, comes back instantly. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth and gently bites it and I can’t help but follow the movement, noticing how full his lips are as his teeth release it again.

“Can you please eat the food, Maily?”

I suppress the urge to gawk. He calls me Maily. It’s my name, I know, but he never calls me by my name. How can I deny him?