Her blistered fingers quivered in her attempt to bring them back under her control. They trembled and curled slightly after some effort. Some part of her yearned to test if she could still weave with her fingers in such a state, but she didn’t dare try.
She dreaded too much discovering them truly impotent.
“May I?” Estevan said, catching her attention. He was standing in front of her now, presenting a small ceramic jar in one hand and a wet towel in the other.
Semras nodded stiffly, and he knelt before her, biting the fingertips of his gloves to pull them off. With reverent care, he washed her hands with the warm towel.
As soon as the soothing heat caressed her skin, a wave of relief suffused her entire being. For the first time in a week, her fingers felt clean. Semras closed her eyes to savour the sensation of the inquisitor’s careful ministrations.
The soft clink of ceramic, followed by the smell of beeswax, came to her before she felt Estevan massage an ointment onto her hands. Fragrances of mullein, calendula, and rosemary oil drifted to her nose, and the witch hummed her approval.
“No comfrey?” she teased him. “Not that I mind it. This is a good mix … and, again, a witch’s recipe.” Semras opened her eyes. “Where did you get—”
Before her, Estevan’s ears and neck had reddened far beyond what could qualify as crimson. The sight of it was enough to stun her into silence.
“If Father saw me now,” he said to himself, “he would excommunicate me.Anddisown me. And he would be right to. Radiant Lord above, he would be right to.”
“For … what … exactly?”
Estevan didn’t answer her. “Here. You can use these,” he said, giving her his gloves. “To … to cover your wounds. Do not take it the wrong way. I do not mean to offend you with that gesture. This is only …”
The witch blinked in confusion.
“Listen, if … if someone asks …” he continued, mumbling, “say they are nothing more than a trophy.”
She blinked again. “What more could they be? They’regloves. I mean, beyond what the colours represent for the Inquisition.”
The inquisitor winced, skin still furiously red. “Must be nice living in a world with no rigidly codified names and titles and gestures. And with no … um, hidden meaning behind some gifts.”
“Yes, it’s very nice indeed. You should try it sometimes, Estevan.” Semras slid her hands in the gloves. They were too big, but their warmth felt pleasant and comforting.
He glanced away. “Good. Let us never speak of this again, Miss Witch.”
“‘MissWitch’? Why do you sound like Sir Ulrech suddenly?”
“I am trying to establish some propriety between us.” Estevan grimaced. “If you prefer, I suppose that ‘Miss Semras’ could be appropriate too.”
“I think I preferred when you just called me ‘witch.’” Semras flexed her fingers to test out the gloves. Slowly but surely, she could feel them coming back to life. Smiling privately, she added, “Because now you just sounded like Themas.”
His grimace deepened into a scowl.
Nottoolongafter,Sin’Sagar came back carrying dishes for them.
The steward left them on the desk, then cocked one perfect eyebrow at her new gloves. “My lord Inquisitor, about this new wing expan—”
Estevan’s neck flushed once more. “Void take you and spare me your wing project, Sin! Get out of here.”
Mirth narrowed the Andakkadian’s eyes into two thin slits. He gave them both a silent bow, then left.
They ate together, discussing their travel plans and arguing over each detail.
“No, I won’t budge on this, Estevan,” she argued for the last one. “We’re going with Themas. You can stay behind if you don’t like it.”
“We do not need him,” the inquisitor replied, “and I do not trust him enough to let him in on the details of our plan. He will only be in the way.”
Her tone grew colder. “You may not need him, but I do. I’m relying on him.”
A small lie—for him and for herself. The young knight hadn’t freed her despite his promises, but he had tried to help, and that had to be enough for her to count on him again. Her choices of allies were limited, and she had no intention of staying alone in the inquisitor’s presence for longer than she needed to, soThemas would have to do. If things went wrong, she wanted someone on her side. She couldn’t trust Estevan anymore.
