“Mytenacityis how we survived.”
He snorts. “After I snapped you out of your catatonic terror.”
This guy is so rude. But I’m not about to say so out loud.I’m far too strategic for that—is what I tell myself. Even if he’s the vicar’s son, he’s been useful so far…as much as I hate to admit it.
I scan for dangers as we emerge into the balmy greenhouse, grateful to find none.
“This way.” He guides me to a shed that’s been built off the back wall of the greenhouse. “In here.” Thank goodness it’s unlocked. We both do a quick search of the interior, but it’s small enough that there can’t be many surprises. He says what I’m thinking. “Defensible.”
I nod.
“Now, you stay here. I’m going to collect what I need.”
“Which is?” I let him ease me into a seated position on a bench. The world is starting to spin a bit from either blood loss or exhaustion…or both.
“Something to patch your back up.”
“Are you some kind of healer now?” I narrow my eyes slightly.
“Would it be so bad if I was?” Lucan shrugs and heads into the rows of plants.
I should have paid closer attention the past six years I’ve been stuck around him. I shift to a more upright position and wince at the multiple stabs of pain. He returns with two types of leaves clutched in his fists. His knee bumps into mine as he sits, and I jerk away from the touch. He doesn’t even seem to notice it happened.
“I’m feeling better,” I say, not only because I’m dubious of what he plans to do with the sprigs and leaves in his fist, but because being this near him is uncomfortable.
“Sure, sure,” he says in the most dismissive way possible as he begins to grind the plants together in an empty pot. I pay close attention to what he’s adding when and how much water is needed to form a thick paste. If there are plants here that can heal, I need to learn how to use them. He stares at me for a moment, and I adjust my back, wincing at the pain. “But you don’t look like you feel better,” he says.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“You’re a bad actress.”
I scoff at that. If only he knew how decent an actress I can be. I’ve kept all of Vinguard thinking that I’m Valor Reborn—blessed by my position, loving of the Creed. High Curate Kassin Thaz’s good little daughter, following the path he’d always dreamed of but could never achieve, straight into Mercy Spire.
Despite the fact that I’m fairly certain that, out of everyone, I’m the one who’s cursed.
“Turn around.” Lucan has a glob of the plant mush on two fingers. I never realized how big his hands were until I had a reason to focus on them.
“You expect me to put my back to you and let you smush that into my wound?”
A pause. A lift of his brows. “You want to do it yourself? Or would you prefer just sitting here with it bleeding and hurting?”
He’s so annoying when he’s right. With a grumble, I banish my desire to be childish and turn. Lucan’s touch on my back is strange, his fingers callused and warm. When he pushes the torn edge of my top to the side, I shiver. I almost prefer to focus on the pain than think about him touching me. When he’s this gentle, I can almost forget all the reasons I have to be skeptical of him.Almost.
I’m not going to let him win that easily, I vow to myself.This is what he does. He shows kindness and then turns on you. I’m in a vulnerable state. Of course it’s natural to want to literally andemotionally lean on someone helping you.Take what you need from him now and get what information you can, Isola, and sort through your thoughts about him later.
There’s a bit of initial pain at the pressure of him pushing the mixture into the wound, but the makeshift medicine immediately begins to take effect, and the ache numbs. My shoulders relax, and a soft sigh escapes my lips without a thought.
“I really don’t need, or want, your help,” I murmur.
“You might not want it, but I challenge you on needing it.”
I glance over my shoulder and study his face. Square jaw, strong nose, hazel eyes—the brown-and-gold sort more than green. All the pieces fit together perfectly, and I really hate that I notice. Because he’s right…I still don’t know if I trust him. He’s either the vicar’s loyal heir—in which case he would help me—or he’s a zealous, jealous sycophant like Cindel and would gladly poison me to expose I’m not really Valor.
“How’d you learn how to do this?” I ask.
“The one good thing about being in the Creed is access to the library. There’s a lot of information there, and I’ve had a lot of time to read.”
A lot they don’t want us to know, I think, but I’m not sure if they’re my words or Mum’s.
