Page 122 of Bone Year

“He really is the best at it.”

“I believe you.” Though in a village with a little over a dozen people, it’s not hard to be the best at anything.

His father stands behind us, watching, not interfering. Draven is against the far wall where he was when they came in. Neither of them speaks while I work, and the quiet they’re giving me is the kind I didn’t know I needed until now. I’m sure it’s taking all of Draven’s willpower to not chime in and tell me I’m doing something wrong or that he can do it better.

The stitches go in cleaner than I have any right to expect from hands that have been failing me for the last year. Eight of them, small and even, the kind of work I used to do before my father died. I cut the thread and tie the last knot off. Tomas looks down at his arm and then back up at me with disbelief.

“That’s it?” He prods gently at the edge of the stitching.

“That’s it.” I swat his hand away from the wound. “Keep it clean, and don’t get it wet for a week. Your father will know what to watch for.”

His father nods. “What do we owe you?” He reaches into his coat.

“Nothing.”

“Miss —”

“Nothing.” I close up the kit. “Go home and feed him something warm.”

He hesitates in the doorway with his hand on his son’s shoulder, and I can see him working up to saying something.

“The lake was louder today.” He looks down at the floor instead of at me. “You’ll want to know that. It was louder than it’s been in weeks.”

Draven crosses his arms over his chest against the wall.

“Louder how?” I stand up, the kit still in my hands.

“Like something’s awake in it. I don’t know how else to say it. It was louder.”

He takes his son’s good hand, and they leave. I put the kit back in the pack and look down at my hands. I’ve been bandaging patients in the wards for weeks but haven’t done any stitches. I just did stitches, and my hands were steady.

“Rose.”

I don’t look up.

“Rose.”

“I’m fine, Alucard.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine.”

I look up at him. He’s still against the wall with his arms folded, watching me with an expression I can’t read from across the room.

“You did well.”

“I did basic stitches.” I cross to the table and sit back down in front of my half-eaten slice of bread. “Besides, I wasn’t trying to impress you and am certainly not looking for your approval.” I take another bite of the crusty bread. Draven paces and keeps glancing out the window.

“What do you think he meant about the lake?” I ask.

“From the map, it looks like the fissure runs into the lake. Could be a sign of activity.” Draven’s tracing a finger along one of the maps spread across the stone table. “It’s almost sundown. You should get some rest.”

“And what about you?” I set the chunk of bread down I’ve been pulling pieces off of to try and fill my belly, even though it tastes stale.

“I’m going to check our surroundings and get a look at the fissure.”

I’m stumbling out of my chair. “The seamkeeper said we should wait until tomorrow.”

“I don’t give a damn what he said.” He pulls his cloak off the back of the chair.