I winced when he grabbed my wrist, and he tsked. “I don’t know how you expect to care for Cillian when you can’t even care for yourself.” He attempted to bend my wrist, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Funny, I don’t think I asked for your opinion,” I said dryly.
He just sighed and shook his head. “It would be great if you didn’t just stop by when you’re injured. Everyone would love to see you more, you know.”
I couldn’t, not when it was my fault Lor had died, when I was the reason for so much heartache in our family. Every time I saw anyone in my family, that guilt consumed me.
“Just fix my damn hand.”
Nevan studied my injury. “It’s not your hand. It’s your wrist. You’ve broken it, which means you’re in a tremendous amount of pain. I can’t believe you’ve just been walking around with a broken wrist?—”
“Nevan,” I said, and he rolled his eyes, gently laying my hand on the little stand next to me.
He shook some of the white powder into a bowl, then used a glass dropper to add a few drops of the liquid. The mixture sizzled, limegreen smoke rising into the air as Nevan grabbed a white bandage and smeared the paste on it.
“I’m going to wrap your wrist and hand. You’re to keep the bandage on for forty-eight hours. Your wrist will start to feel better, but that doesn’t mean the bandage can come off. Your bones need mending.” He began wrapping my wrist and hand while I sulked like a small boy who’d just gotten his candy taken away.
The door burst open, and we both turned to see Niamh standing there, eyes widened in shock. For a moment, my breath left my body.
The sunlight highlighted her wavy red hair, which hung down to her waist. Freckles dotted her pale skin. Her green eyes were so light they almost looked otherworldly. She was no longer wearing her blue dress but a moss green one that was cinched at the waist with a brown rope belt, the shoulders hanging around her biceps, exposing her collarbone.
On our journey, she’d been disheveled, her hair in knots, her skin covered in dust. None of us were at our best, but now that she’d bathed and was wearing new clothes, she looked luminous.
“Oh drat.” She planted her hands on her wide hips. “This isn’t where I was hoping to go.”
“I’ve never seen you before,” Nevan said, and I snapped my gaze away and back to my wrapped hand, scolding myself for staring. Niamh would probably take it to mean I wanted to be friends. She was that kind of person, I gathered. Wanted to be friends with everyone.
“I’m Niamh.” She eyed the cluttered room with interest and walked farther inside, reaching out toward a potted flower that was as tall as her, its wide yellow petals unfurling.
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that!” Nevan called out. “That one bites. But it’s very effective for catching gnats.”
Niamh snatched her hand back.
“Are you the town healer?” She guessed, studying the connected tubes sitting on the back counter, amber liquid running through them and into a funnel.
“I am.” Nevan shot me a curious look. “Who are you?”
“Oh!” Niamh put her hands to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got turned around and didn’t even think to introduce myself. Although Wolfe could tell you who I am.”
“So that was the mission that took you two away for a week?” Nevan looked at me. “Let me guess, you were on the hunt for yet another bride for Cillian, and now you’ve found her.”
I gave Nevan a warning look, but Niamh had stopped, the sunny smile melting from her face.
“Another bride?” she asked, then her gaze swiveled to me. “What does that mean?”
Nevan finished wrapping the bandage on my wrist. “Okay.” He clapped his hands together, clueless of the secret he’d just let slip. “You’re done. Keep the bandage on. No fighting or dangerous stunts for at least two days, and then you should be back to all regular activity. Niamh, it was so great to meet you, but I have another patient to see, so you’ll both have to be on your way.”
I shot him a glare as he shooed us out of the healer’s quarters. At least I could finally find the high prince. Niamh sputtered as the door closed in our faces, and I spun on my heel and strode away, hoping she’d have the good sense not to follow.
CHAPTER 8
Niamh
The door shut in my face as I processed Nevan’s words. Another bride. He’d definitely said another bride. Which meant I wasn’t the first one. And then I started wondering how many brides the prince had found, and what had happened to them. Sweat gathered on my palms, and I rubbed them against my dress.
Here I was, thinking I’d found a safe haven. A utopia. How foolish.
I groaned, knowing I’d have to tell Morton about this. He’d get himself worked up in a frenzy, and then he’d say “I told you so.”
