"I cleaned it with alcohol and cauterized it earlier." His head slumped forward.
"That's hardly proper treatment. I'll send for a doctor—"
Sebastian caught her wrist as she turned for the door. "No."
"But—"
"No," he said again with force. "No doctors, no surgeons. Just help me put this bloody bandage on, and all I'll need is sleep."
"What about infection?" she whispered.
"It will be fine."
Cleo swallowed. "I could cast a small healing ward over it. It might not seal the skin, now you've cauterized it, but it might help with the degree of healing."
"Thought your talents ran to Divination?"
"They do. I've reached the Fourth Level, however. I know the minor Healing Arts, though I'm certainly no adept."
The offer sat there as he considered it.
"Don't you trust me?"
"I trust you." Sebastian barked a laugh, which swiftly fell silent. "I'm just not used to such offers. I keep searching to find your angle, but then I remind myself who I'm dealing with. You're not like my mother, or any of her acquaintances."
"I should certainly hope I'm not. Why didn't she heal you?"
"Because I disobeyed her."
What kind of woman let her son hurt like this? "Hold still. I have to touch you." She lifted her hands and pressed them over his wound as she pushed the bandage aside. Sebastian tensed, the skin flushed with heat.
Power welled through her as Cleo opened herself up, drawing heat from the fire, from his skin, from deep inside her... From everything that surrounded her. It felt like she was a flower, finally blooming. The world fell away, all of the cold, harsh realities of it, and her senses grew stronger.
Suddenly his heartbeat thumped through his chest like a drum. Cleo could sense the tension within him, as if he watched her blindfolded face, and smell the faint burnt tang of sorcery that clung to his clothes. He'd expended a great deal of power today.
"You should be careful. You have the scent of overexertion all over you. If you use too much sorcery, Bastian, you might burn yourself out."
At that, she released the ward with a soft power word, and Sebastian gasped as a cool tingle slid across his skin. Beneath her touch, the wound burned like menthol, a strange hot-cold beneath her hand, as her magic sank itself into that fevered skin. She was left touching smooth skin, newly reknit, and only faintly throbbing with heat now. By morning, he should have healed completely.
"Thank you," Sebastian said gruffly.
"You should have told me sooner. How did this happen?"
Silence again, broken only by the sound of him swallowing. Liquid swished as he lowered the bottle. "Don't ask, Cleo. One of Morgana's schemes."
"And the girl?"
His head shifted as she felt him look up. "How did you—?" Then he grunted. "Did you See it?"
"No. I'm not myself today. I can't seem to grasp my precognition through the distraction. I overheard Morgana speaking in the courtyard, however." She pressed her hands to her thighs as she knelt in front of him. "There. We're all done. You should come to bed."
"Cleo."
"I promise I won't ravish you."
"I should stay on the trundle in my dressing closet."
That wouldn't do. She couldn't chase him from his own bed in such a condition, and she'd been telling the truth: Hers was drenched, a ridiculous ploy she hadn't thought through all the way. "Will your mother not think that unusual? She might... wonder if my presence bothered you."
