She was going to fall. And on that pristine white coat, too. Right into the wet red mud.
“Steady,” I grunted, catching her by the elbow just in time.
“Thanks!” she said breathlessly, smiling up at me.
Her smile was not like Tasha’s or Shiloh’s. In general, it was shaped the same way, and it had those same tiny, fangless human teeth. But Tasha’s and Shiloh’s smiles did not make me feel like someone had shot a stunner’s blast directly into my guts.
In all honesty, it would have been easier for me if she had pulled a weapon instead of that smile. Weapons I knew what to do with.
I supposed it was not so strange that I was feeling unlike myself in her presence. The hospital had not been ready for her arrival, and this still ate at me. Discipline, preparedness, and taking care of my responsibilities were as core to my inner being as my own name. Perhaps even more so. Because I was fairly certain that even if I were no longer called Hallum, I would still be acridly disappointed that her hospital was not finished, even if there was not a thing I could do about it.
I focused my frustration – and my gaze – elsewhere.
“These boots are not at all appropriate for this area,” I told her bluntly. She was liable to break a narrow human ankle, and then she would be the patient instead of the doctor. And as I was the only other person in this province with any kind of medical training, I would be the one responsible for aiding her. For a moment, all I could think about was having her on a bed before me, the warm, bare skin of her leg in my hands.
Her skin would be very soft. I was certain of it. When I’d done the human hug to her, the strands of her hair had been fragrant silk when they’d brushed my chin.
“I will procure you other boots,” I added, banishing thoughts of smooth skin and hair from my mind. The same way I’d banished what I’d maybe thought was the briefest flicker of whiteness in my eyes when I had held her. I was probably mistaken about that. My eyes hadn’t actually gone white in many cycles. But…
“Oh, I do have better footwear, I promise,” she said with a tinkling sort of laugh that told me she was currently not at all concerned about the state of her anklebones. “Somewhere in there.” She waved her right hand (her left arm was still in my grip) towards the wagon. “Unfortunately, I was in a bit of a rush and didn’t label any of the boxes, so I can’t dig other shoes out right now without unpacking everything. But if I just walk on my tippy toes, that should be fine. It’ll be good for my calves!”
I did not know what a tippy toe was. This had not been covered in the anatomy section of the human document. I also had no idea what a tippy toe had to do with a bracku calf. There was no time to try to figure it out, as I was rapidly losing hold of my wobbly (but apparently still very determined) human.
“Wait,” I said as she walked unsteadily forward and out of my reach. She stepped awkwardly, almost daintily, with most of her weight on the balls of her feet instead of the ridiculous pointy bits at the backs of her boots. “Dr. Ortiz, halt!”
That last bit had come out more sharply than I’d intended. The echoing bark of a man who’d spent so long as a military commander.
She twisted her head back to look at me, her eyebrows arching upwards.
“Wow, I can see why they made you a prison warden. You’ve definitely got that stern, bossy thing down.”
That actually had nothing to do with why I was now a prison warden. I was here because I’d volunteered to come. Given up my rank and status in the Empire of Zabria of my own free will.
Because I felt as though I’d failed that little bruised and blood-covered boy so badly.
And I could not bear to send him into exile on his own.
But she did not need to know the whole sorry tale of that boy’s conviction and my subsequent change in career. She needed to stay put before she fell and snapped something. Or several somethings.
“Apologies,” I said, closing the distance between us with one large stride. “I went from a career in the military to overseeing the convicts in this province. I am used to issuing commands.”
“But we are equals, aren’t we? Just to clarify before we begin working together. I’m not under your command,” she said, tipping her face up towards mine. The sun speared across her features – her rounded cheeks; her smooth, light brown skin. The little black points of her eyes – the human pupils – shrank to fine flecks of ink, revealing rich shades of brown, gold, and even shimmering strands of green. There was something surprising about that green, something almost rebellious in it. Like those first stubborn, nearly dogged shoots of life in spring. The kind of green that nothing can freeze or smother once it takes root.
“You are not under my command,” I confirmed. “But you are under my care.”
She blinked, a fluttering sweep of those odd human eyelashes. Then she smiled again.
She was doing that a lot. Smiling. I would have to learn to somehow fortify myself against it.
“And since I’m the resident physician, you are under my care as well!” she said cheerily. “We’ll help take care of each other, shall we?”
There was no reason that her words – uttered with such a casual and sincere ease that told me should would have said them to anyone – should make me suddenly feel so off-balance. As if I were the one in the foolish footwear, fighting not to fall face-first into the mud.
“I do have some emergency medical training,” I said stiffly, “should it ever be required.” Strange. I could not remember the last time I’d felt the need to prove myself to anyone. But I felt it now. The bone-deep desire to let her know that I was capable of taking care of the men in my province and myself.
And her.
“Oh, that’s great to know,” she said, bobbing her head up and down in a human nod. There was no hint of pride or ego in her reply, and I realized only then that my words could have come off as being quite arrogant.
