I hiss through my teeth at the deep-reaching ache. “Just so you’re aware, I’ll never let you live down the way you’re fussing over me. You will rue this day for the rest of your life, Sadrielle.”
“That’s cute.” She gives my wrist a light tug, making me wince. “I’m not a physician, but if the snark is any indication, I predict a full recovery.”
Fair enough.But “the snark” is so much easier than acknowledging my overwhelm at the extent of her thoughtfulness. “You really asked Fiona about cleaning it?”
“Of course.” The bandage suitably damp, she grabs the scissors. “You weren’t in any state to absorb instructions yesterday. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. And don’t worry,” she winks, “my hands are clean. Washed them before I knocked.”
“Thank you.” My heart clenches, warmth surging through me. “In all seriousness, I really appreciate it.”
The scissor blades whisper and rasp as she cuts lengthwise through the bandage.
Gently, slowly, she peels the old dressing away. The skin around my sutures is slightly swollen. The areas in between are pulled taut.
Sadrie examines me with all the authority of a physician. “There’s a little puckering around the stitches, but no inflammation. It isn’t red or oozing pus.”
I wrinkle my nose.
“It’s what Fiona said to look for. She told me to fetch her if there were any signs of infection, but so far, so good.” I’m released while Sadrie dampens a new washcloth and soaps it up. “You still haven’t told me how you wound up in this predicament.”
“Oh, gods,” I sigh. “I was hoping we could just ignore that.”
“Wouldn’t that be convenient foryou? Sadly, my caretaking comes with a price.” Motioning for my wrist again, she cleans my wound with great care. Her eyebrows shoot up, but there’s an impish quirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I scrunch up my face. “I suppose that’s understandable.”
So I tell her what I can, including the fact that I still don’t remember everything. Renewed shame runs through me while I talk, leaving the emptiness of self-betrayal in its wake. Particularly horrid is knowing I did something so abhorrent (whatever it was) that Bibi felt the need to violently defend Elodie.
As a bonus, I follow up that charming anecdote with what happened this morning. By the time I’m finished, I can’t meet Sadrie’s eyes. The humiliation is infinitely worse than my poor arm and its fifteen stitches.
A new washcloth is grabbed and dunked. Sadrie squeezes it out with her free hand, the excess splashing gently in the basin, and proceeds to wipe the soap away.
“I feel like a monster,” I mumble. “I’m so ashamed of myself for losing control like that. D-do you feel—” I have no idea how to put it. “Do you ever feel like you become somebody else? I don’t know… As if you’repossessedwith rage? Or any feeling, I suppose.”
“Oh, songbird, I don’t think so.” She discards the last washcloth. With an expression close to pity, she dips two fingers into the jar, gathering a glob of ointment. “Feelings are unavoidable, but the actions you take are a choice,” she says, misunderstanding my meaning. “Your anger isn't about other people, Tiss. Even when you think that it is. Even when it arises from something someone says or does. Taking responsibility for your feelings means not lashing out when you feel overwhelmed.”
She packs ointment around my stitches. Reeking of herbs, it immediately soothes the deep-seated ache, dialing it back to a dull, smarting twinge.
I muddle through my thoughts, unsure how to respond. She isn’t wrong, of course, but she also doesn’t know how literal I’m being.
How could she, though?It sounds ridiculous, what I’m trying to say.
“You’re right,” I finally concede. Because she is, ultimately, and she’s going out of her way to help.
“Well,” she smiles, “I will say you keep life interesting.”
“Thank you for taking care of me. Gods, I owe Elodie a big apology. She probablyhatesme, if she didn’t already.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She needs time, but she’ll get over it.”
I snort. “That’s a nice thought.”
“She found me at the laundry lines this afternoon and handed me this ointment to give you.” Sadrie’s chin lifts when I glance up. “The way she phrased things, I’m fairly certain your precious priestess whipped it up specifically for this catastrophe.”
Even after I ran her through with a bloody letter opener?I look at the small glass jar with new interest while my stomach does a somersault.
“And so that we’re clear, I don’t mind if something happens between the two of you.” Sadrie’s words come in a rich hum.
“You don’t?”
