Page 100 of Winter Gods & Serpents

He reached close enough to her that she had to look up at him like a ceiling chandelier. “If she loses her arm, you will then send an armless princess instead of a sleep deprived, fatigued, maddening and crazed one to Adriata, now move,” he ordered, making his way to me.

“Nia,” I called and then gave her a nod. “Let him.”

She took short glances at me before forcing herself to move away.

I had my other hand on the hilt of one of my daggers, fear had substituted pain. I realized it was fear of him, not losing my arm.

He kneeled before me, helping remove my sweater, leaving me in my exposing nightgown before turning to take my gloves off.

Involuntarily I pulled my hands back.

His gaze turned to mine, unwavering and cold like a frozen lake. “The gloves, Princess, I am not asking.”

Within a beat he pulled them off despite my protest. Confused he looked between me and my bandaged hands before unravelling the white gauze soaked and almost frosted to my hand. He fixated on my palms for a long while, coated in old and fresh half-moon scars and slashes all over. Unexpectedly, he ran his thumb over them, and I instinctively balled them up in fists, pulling them back over my chest.

“My arm,” I said, half taken a back and frustrated at him. “You were to do something to it.”

Nia handed him the warm cloth and he placed it over my arm before notifying me of his real intention. “I will use my magic.”

Nia looked between us contemplating.

Dread and fear circled around me. I would rather lose my arm than have him do that.

As if he could sense my thoughts he sighed and narrowed his gall demanding gaze on me. “I am not taking you back missing a limb. I promised them I would bring you how I found you. Remember? Shinning and polished.”

Objection at the tip of my tongue, yet I gave in and extended my arm to him. He ran a hand over the greyed flesh, a few times. His hands were rough, but they were warm and gentle—terribly gentle. I stared confused back and forth his actions, almost making myself dizzy till I felt something like worms crawling under my skin. The sensation almost made me flinch away, but the greyed flesh began turning to its normal colour.

I traced a finger over my arm half in disbelief that this was not some form of trickery and illusion.

“I moved your blood round to normal circulation, just like how we move objects. It’s how we heal some of our wounded and prevent blood from clotting,” he explained to clear the confusion that was readable on my face.

“If I was not your pawn, would you have helped me? Would you have helped someone like me?”

There was nothing on the agreement that said missing a limb would prevent the agreement from happening. I could bet a good cheek they’d be most pleased if I returned limbless.

He glanced shortly up at me, shifting on his knees almost uncomfortable. “The truth?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, lie to me, Adriatian.”

He continued tracing my skin and quietly said, “I would have not helped you.”

“Look at me when you say it.” It was my time to demand his confusing truths.

He halted, hesitated, and then slowly looked up at me with that stare of his. “I would have not laid a finger to help you, that arm could have fallen off along with the rest of you, shredded to a thousand pieces and I would have done absolutely nothing, maybe even smiled.”

“Lies,” I murmured, lost in his glassy telling stare, the ring of cold around them tall and unnerving. Alaric had taught me that truths always softened someone’s eyes.

“You told me to lie to you.”

I scowled. “It was sarcasm you absolute fool.”

He raised a dark brow then nodded returning to my arm. “Keep the warm cloth on still, the wound might be gone but there will be soreness still over the flesh. A bath might help,” he said lastly, turning to Nia who nodded and headed to do just that.

He pulled my hands down examining the redness there, gently running his fingers over them before tuning my palms upward exposing my scars again.

I resisted and fought the urge to close them.

Expressionless, he remained concentrated on his work. Not a word, not a single reaction. Why did it annoy me more than him speaking, his silence was deafening. After he finished, he wrapped salt and the warm cloth above and the look he gave me almost made me flinch.