I moved closer, reaching out to unwrap the blanket. I hesitated for just a moment, the protective instinct in me warring with the need to shield her from more vulnerability. But she had agreed, and I owed it to her to treat her with the care she deserved.
I gritted my teeth as I stole a close look at her battered body. Her skin was marred with shallow cuts and bruises. My hands trembled, and I had to clench my jaw to keep the rage at bay.
This was my fault.
I should have seen this coming. I should have been there. I should have been faster, stronger. I should have protected her more.
Vivian shivered despite the warmth in the room. Every bruise and cut felt like a personal failure, a testament to my inability to protect her.
“You’re safe now,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow in my mouth.
She took my hand and carefully got into the tub. The water enveloped her fragile frame, the lavender-scented steam curling around her like a protective shroud. Taking a washcloth from the ledge above the tub, I dipped it into the water and wrung it out.
The first touch of the cloth against her skin made her hiss, and she flinched away from me.
“Sorry. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
“It’s not you. It’s… everything.”
Her words shattered me. Her pain seeped into my chest like an open wound. I could feel her fear, her exhaustion, her fractured strength. She was barely holding on, and it killed me that I couldn’t take it all away.
I worked in silence, moving carefully, almost reverently, as though each stroke of the cloth could erase what had been doneto her. The angry redness of the cuts began to fade as the enchanted water worked its magic, but I knew the scars that would remain wouldn’t only be on her skin.
When I had taken care of every cut and bruise, I lifted her out of the water. She didn’t protest. In fact, she rested her head against my shoulder as I wrapped her in a thick towel. Her damp hair clung to her face, and I brushed it away gently, my fingers lingering longer than they needed to.
I carried her to the bedroom, where the bed’s dark furs and woolen blankets had already warmed in anticipation of our arrival. Setting her down carefully, I dried her off, my hands steady even if my mind wasn’t.
I took one of my sweatshirts out of the chest of drawers behind me and pulled it on over her head. It was far too big on her, but the sight of her in it stirred something in me. She looked fragile and utterly human, yet her eyes still held that quiet strength.
She sank back against the pillows, and I pulled the blankets up over her, tucking her in like she might disappear if I didn’t.
I sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The words were a vow, one I would carve into my soul if I could.
It wasn’t the first time I’d spoken those words to her, but I needed to repeat them, needed to believe them. For Vivian. And for myself.
Tears glistened in her eyes, and a glimmer of trust pulsed through the bond.
“Thank you,” she whispered finally.
The flames cast long,flickering shadows across the walls, but even their warmth couldn’t chase away the cold knot of anger and fear coiled in my chest.
Vivian was fast asleep, curled up beneath the heavy blankets. The bond between us was steady now, yet it offered me little solace.
I moved to the cabinet built into the far wall, the hinges creaking softly as I opened it. Inside was an array of supplies—medical salves, potions, and herbs I’d spent years collecting. I grabbed the salve I needed from the top shelf.
I carried it back to the bedside table and unscrewed the lid, the soothing scent of chamomile and healing magic wafting into the air. The salve glowed faintly, its surface shifting like liquid silver. I dipped my fingers into the cool substance, feeling the tingle of its magic activating against my skin.
“Vivian,” I murmured softly, sitting beside her on the bed.
She stirred but didn’t wake.
“I need to take care of your wounds,” I said quietly, knowing she couldn’t hear me but feeling the need to say it aloud anyway. “This will help.”
Carefully, I pulled back the blanket and pushed up the sweatshirt, exposing the cuts and bruises. My chest tightened at the sight of them, my anger flaring anew. Each mark was a reminder of my father’s cruelty, a stain on her body that I would never forgive.
With painstaking gentleness, I began to apply the salve, smoothing it over each wound. The magic in the salve activated immediately, its soft glow spreading across her skin as it began to heal the damage. Vivian flinched at the initial contact, a whimper escaping her lips, and my heart clenched in response.
“Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
