“Tending to your wounds.”
“Can’t Myron fix them without hurting me?”
“No.”
I glared at her.
“The High Lord of Spring tried to administer treatment to Lord Caius, to no avail. This was the only method that proved successful.”
I gripped either side of the tub with my hands, bracing myself, and hoped they’d taken my humanness into account when they’d deemed itsuccessful. I clenched my teeth and nodded for her to continue.
The sharp edge scraped back and forth around the darkened perimeter like she was skinning game, and I bit down to stop myself from crying out as the burning pain sent my nerves on fire.
A snide part of me wondered if maintaining the visions would have been preferable.
After what felt like an eternity, she put the instrument down and gripped the edge of the patch like someone pulling up their boots, then slowly peeled it back. My hand pounded down against the tub’s edge from the searing pain, and a slurping sound filled my ears as layers of my own flesh were stripped away with it. The middle was more sensitive, and when she exposed it, the scream I’d been biting down slipped out in a sound of guttural agony.
In a flash, Nevander was standing at the threshold, peering down at me. A slight blush dusted his cheeks from my nakedness, but he’d sobered when he took in what was happening.
Anger crossed the female’s features. “Out,” she commanded.
Nevander turned to face away but didn’t make to leave. A silent compromise. The female huffed her indignation, then continued.
I groaned, my body already aching from the coiled effort it took to stay put. Nevander tensed at every sound, as if he, too, were being hurt.
The black mark was now gone, replaced by an angry patch of raw flesh where beads of blood pooled like morning dew.
She slid a cool, greasy salve over the oozing wound, and I hissed at the unexpected stinging that hit me like a thousand burning needles. Nevander turned his head, nothing but cold fury in his eyes. I was grateful it was him and not Thaddeus—I doubted he’d allow it. But it needed to be done.
After the initial shock of the salve ebbed, the female gently laid a green leaf over it, and an instant cooling seeped into the wound. I heaved a heavy sigh in relief.
Instrument poised, she probed the next mark, and I grabbed her wrist before she could continue. She looked between my hand and my face, eyes narrowing.
“I need a moment,” I breathed, feeling lightheaded as beads of sweat trickled down my face.
“The feast starts soon.”
“I don’t care,” I said flatly. “I need a moment.”
“Lord Caius did not have such problems with his treatment.”
“Well, good for the high lord of the Summer Court and his magical, perfectly crafted, immortal body. I’m so happy that he didn’thave such problems,” I spat, releasing her wrist.
She gave me a withering look but relented.
I took a moment, head bowed, eyes closed, willing the dizziness to go away as I forced myself to take slow, steady breaths. I heard Thaddeus attempting to enter the room, only to be turned away by Tarrin. Good—I didn’t want him here for this.
I steeled myself and let her continue.
Piece by piece, she patiently removed each mark, no matter how small.
“Stand,” she said.
I did, and she searched my body thoroughly, making sure she’d gotten all of it.
I caught my reflection in the mirror—pallid, gaunt, shadowed. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and the idea of attending the dinner seemed insurmountable. But we were here for a reason.
I can do this. I can do this,I silently chanted, forcing myself to rally, willing the words to be true.
