His lips seal, though his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. It’s a relief that he’s no longer looking at me with skittish unease.
“This one can be rubbed on your chest if the cough gets worse,” he instructs, tapping on the second vial. “And this third one can be soaked into the cloth, mixed with some snow to hold over your eyes and forehead for the headache. The snow will also help ease the fever.”
I nod, glancing at the dried herbs wrapped in the cloth. “And those?”
“They’re to put under your pillow.”
My brows pull together. “Why?”
He picks up the cloth and unwraps it. They’re not herbs like I thought, but dried flowers. “Where I come from, it is good luck to place peonies beneath your pillow when you are ill, my lady. You’ll have to settle for putting it beneath the furs, though,” he says, winking with his good eye.
“You’re giving me these?” I whisper in touched surprise.
The tops of his cheeks redden slightly, his accent thicker with his sudden shyness. “Here.” He holds them out for me to take.
They’re delicate, three blooms on dried stems, parts of their leaves cracked off and crumbled. I turn them around in my hand, the pink color of the flowers gone dusty, the edges of their petals browned like the crust of bread.
“Thank you,” I murmur, tears springing to the backs of my eyes.
Peonies for good health. A willow branch for luck. Cotton stems for prosperity. The fleshy leaf of a jade to bring harmony.
Hojat hesitates, maybe noting the way the flowers are affecting me. I take a steadying breath and set them aside, blinking away the watery blur.
“Keep snow on your head, but send for me if you start to feel worse,” he tells me.
“You’re a very well-prepared army mender,” I say with a smile, gently setting the flowers aside. I’m still pointedly ignoring Rip, wishing that he’d leave, wishing that he hadn’t seen what he did. It’s only a matter of time before he starts asking questions and demanding answers.
“I have to be,” Hojat replies with a shrug as he settles things inside his satchel, arranging them just so. “Oh, I also wanted to thank you, my lady.”
“For what?”
“For speaking with the saddles. Because of you, a few of them allowed me to treat them,” he says cheerfully, all previous awkwardness gone.
“Really?” I reply, surprised. I didn’t think the girls would listen to me about Hojat, but I’m glad to hear that they have. Who knows what sort of injuries they sustained when we got captured from the Red Raids?
“Yes. It’s a good thing, too, considering the condition of the one woman,” he goes on while he places the other vials for me on the ground near my pallet. “She’ll need to be careful, especially considering our current whereabouts. It won’t do for her to get too cold, and the travel rations haven’t been too kind on her stomach.”
I watch him walk to the tent flaps and gather some snow, piling it into the cloth. He then pours some of the liquid from the other vial into it before tying it off.
“Is she going to be alright?”
“Yes,” he answers, handing me the snowpack. “She’s progressing nicely. No signs that she’s in any danger of miscarriage.”
My heart slams to a stop.
“Wait.What?”
Hojat turns, his expression changing because of whatever he sees on my face. He looks over at Rip, who’s still standing across from us, silent as a stone gargoyle, spikes gone, arms crossed in front of him.
“Apologies,” Hojat mumbles. “I just assumed. Well, with you visiting them… Never mind.”
“Which one?” I breathe, and I don’t move my eyes off the scarred lines of his face, don’t miss how the misshapen skin creases with contrition.
Hojat spares another look at Rip, and the commander gives a tiny nod, though he never takes his eyes off me.
The mender shuffles on his feet, the hesitation of truth caught in the harsh slash of his mouth. “Straight black hair, a bit standoffish. I think her name started with an M...”
A snap in my chest—like a frozen pine needle crushed beneath a hard boot. “Mist.”
