I brushed my hair, still smooth and wavy from last night’s braids, and twisted it back into a loose knot to keep it out of my face. I was standing over my wash bin in my undergarments, washing my trousers, when a knock sounded at the front door. Harsh and loud.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
I froze. My muscles locked and my ears flicked to attention.
The racket was jarring in the unnatural quiet of my shop, kickstarting my heart to a dangerous rhythm.
Then I remembered the instructions I had given Tandor earlier—to swing by my shop for some salve for his burns. My muscles slowly relaxed from their tense position.
“Gods almighty! You’re going to break the door down, hang on!” I grabbed a dressing gown and tossed it over my shoulders, hastily pulling it shut while I scurried to the front door.
“Why is the door locked?” Tandor’s deep voice boomed, slightly muffled through the wood.
I unlocked the latch and pulled the door open quickly. “Because it’s nighttime? I forgot you were coming by!” I looked behind Tandor to the folk milling about. The streets were more lively than usual—the potluck attendees must have not wanted the festivities to come to an end.
“Oh, is it nighttime? Huh. I guess it is.” He glanced around awkwardly. “Do you want me to come back in the morning?” His gaze landed on my face and then slid down slowly. To my throat. To the vee of the dressing gown. To my bare feet. His eyes jumped away immediately, back to the empty shop behind me. “Or I could go see Velline…”
I shuffled my feet, feeling strangely exposed even though I was fully covered. “No, no, come on in, I’m still up. It’s my fault that you’re hurt. I can help.”
I stepped back, pulled the door open wide, and held my hand out in a gesture to let him pass. He had to duck his head just slightly to step through the door, and his body took up most of the door frame. I always forgot howhugehe was, but suddenly I felt crowded. Like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He stepped past me quickly.
I pulled the door shut with a resounding clang.
Something about nighttime, the darkness creeping in, made the shop feel entirely too small—like I needed to throw the arched windows open and stick my head out to get a deep breath.
I cleared my throat. “So, how did the hands hold up? Were you miserable all day?”
His ears twitched. “It was… alright.”
I cracked a smile at his embarrassment. “You don’t have to lie to me—I know burns are unbelievably painful. You forget that I deal with hot cauldrons every single day, I’ve been burnt more times than I can count.”
“Well, it definitely wasn’t pleasant. But if I drank enough cider, I could almost dull the edge of it.”
I nodded sagely. “That is a good tip. Maybe you should start picking up shifts with Velline over at Moonvale Medical.”
“Very funny. I didn’t really have a choice, now did I?”
“I suppose you didn’t. Now let’s see if we can do something about your little situation.” I pulled my rickety work stool out for him to sit on but thought better of it. He might crush the thing. Instead, I retrieved a sturdier stool for him from the back. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat obediently and rested his hands on his knees, palms up. They were still wrapped in the strips of his shirt, but he must have grabbed another before he came over here because he was now fully clothed.
Bummer. I chuckled to myself at the thought, imagining a man showing up at my door, half naked, at night, and how scandalous that would be.
He lifted an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing, I just noticed you have a shirt on again. May I?” I asked, gesturing to his wrappings.
“You’re in charge here.”
I rolled my eyes. His blisters had burst throughout the day, and the cloth was soaked through with sticky blood. I tsked in dismay. “Gods, Tandor. This is worse than I thought. We should’ve taken care of this earlier.”
He just shrugged, but I could see the way his back was ramrod straight, and the way the muscle in his jaw twitched when I started to remove the bandages. I worked slowly, carefully, barely touching him. My grip was as light as thebrush of a butterfly’s wing. Still, I could practically smell the discomfort radiating from him.
“So, about that cider…” I said as a distraction. “That sure was something.”
“Oh, that. One of my best, I’d say.” His voice was strained.
“You’re not wrong there. What’s in it? I could taste the cinnamon, but I didn’t recognize the rest of it. What else?”
