Silently, she offers me her palms as I wash my hands in the basin before pulling up another stool and sitting opposite her. I run my finger over her wound after removing her bandages. She doesn’t flinch. “Erevas won’t do any good on your hands. You wouldn’t be able to cast if I use shadow to bind it, like I did on your stomach.”
She must be in agony. But she barely seems to acknowledge the pain at all, only shrugging lightly. “Let them try to heal by themselves, then.”
Frowning, I move on to her fingers, testing the reflexes. “What level of feeling do you have?”
“Tingling, mostly. Some sharp pain, comes and goes.” She looks down at them. “I can use them, though.”
I click my tongue from habit, studying them. “I don’t think you’ll lose them. The color is lessening. Keep them warm, though. I’ll get you gloves.”
“Why bother?” She tilts her head. “I’m less of a threat with my casting removed.”
I pull a tincture from my belt, removing the lid and squeezing a small amount onto my fingers that I carefully brush into her darkened, swollen fingers, careful not to rub. “You wouldn’t be whole without it. I wouldn’t be that cruel.”
“Whole.” Lyra’s eyes are fixed somewhere behind me. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to feel like.”
Her words linger as my patients wake, and I put her to work arranging supplies. Daewen, the oldest of the three soldiers currently under my care, curses beneath his breath every time she walks past, moving between the supply stores and my worktable. “A damned fire-witch in Umbraxis. It’s not right, Eres.”
His eyes widen when her head turns at exactly that moment. Her fingers flicker in a strange, jerking movement, and I bite down on my cheek when Daewen pales. “She’s not cursing you.”
The younger two aren’t much better. One refuses to even look at her, and the other looks close to pissing the bed.
It’s a relief when Darian slips through the doors, bearing a tray and a strained smile. “I’m on dinner duty today. We’re short since Kaelen ordered an extra patrol.”
I watch as all three patients turn their heads away, ignoring him. His smile slips. “I’ll just leave this here.”
“Thanks.”
When Darian’s eyes shift to Lyra, I step up beside him, looking down at the tray. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But he hesitates. “I… wanted to talk. To you and Kaelen, ideally. But it can wait.”
The shadows beneath his eyes look deeper than I’ve ever seen. “Do you need a sleeping draft again? I can make one up for you.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t stop the nightmares. It just traps me inside them.”
When he rubs his eyes, my chest grows tight. “The Binding… I didn’t know it was that strong.”
Strong enough that I’m tracking every movement Lyra makes. Even now, I’m aware of her tearing up strips of cloth behind us. Aware of the way her eyes are staring into my back.
I told her it would pass. This…need, to stay close. And now I’m wondering if everything I’ve heard was a lie. Kaelen refused to acknowledge it when I challenged him last night, even as he refused to meet my eyes. But Darian has never been able to hide his emotions.
My voice lowers further. “Tell me the truth. Are you in pain because of his distance?”
Dare doesn’t say anything. But the look in his eyes tells the truth as deeply as any confession he could make. “I’m fine.”
No, he’s not. Not even a little. And I could kick myself for believing him all this time. “Come to my chambers tonight. Late. Kae will be there, and I’ll make him listen. He’s being a fool.”
“It’s not about that,” Darian sighs. “But—”
“Traitor.”
At the low hiss, Dare stiffens. “I’ll see you then.”
He turns away before I can stop him, vanishing through the doors.
Slowly, I turn. “Who said it?”
The three wielders in the beds look at me. Daewen lifts his chin, a mutinous expression on his weathered face. “It’s the truth. There’s treason in his blood. Don’t need none of his type here, Eres. None of hers, either.”
