Page 47 of Bonded To The Arena Master

"An inspiring standard from the lord responsible for an entire house."

She wets a cloth with the clear liquid.

"What is that?"

"Diluted numiscu neutralizer. It will loosen the grit without softening the plate."

"You have treated Volvath carapace before."

"Guards visit apothecaries when they want care without a weakness entering official records."

The first pass of the cloth sends a cold sting through my arm. I keep it still. She cleans along the grain of each plate, changing the fold whenever it gathers dust. Her concentration narrows the world to the movement of her hands.

No one touches an arena-master without permission. Physicians wait for commands. Armorers work around me with rigid care. Lovers, before I ceased allowing them near, understood the limits of an encounter.

Beatrix expects trust as part of treatment and gives competence in return.

She finishes cleaning the scrape, then lifts the bowl.

"Goligan and powdered nimond," she says. "The goligan protects the living layer. Nimond binds to the plate until the edge seals."

"Human remedies on Volvath armor."

"You may return to collecting red dust if demon pride objects."

"Proceed."

She spreads the salve with the narrow spatula. Coolness follows its path across the exposed line. Her thumb steadies the edge of my carapace while she presses the mixture into the shallow break.

Pain has never required my attention. This gentleness does.

I watch her face rather than my arm. Fair skin shows faint abrasions near her temple. Weariness darkens the flesh beneath her eyes. She has changed into a clean green gown, but the neckline slips toward her upper arm as she reaches across me.

The bruise on her shoulder has deepened overnight.

Purple spreads beneath her fair skin, crossed at the center by a darker mark. Its shape follows the pressure of my hand when I forced her through the opening ahead of the collapse.

My attention remains there after she withdraws the spatula.