“I hate it even more when boys scream.”
I tried to wiggle my fingers, but they wouldn’t move. A tide of panic set my heart racing again. “I can’t—”
“Don’t worry,” Edan said. “Now,xitara, don’t get the wrong idea.” He brought my fingertips to his lips and blew on them.
“What are you—”
He set my hand down. “It should take a few minutes. It might feel a little odd. Best for you not to think about it.”
“Think about what?”
“The burns aren’t as bad as I feared,” he went on, ignoring me. “But the joints and muscles are in poor shape.”
“Think about what?” I repeated.
Then I felt it. A sharp twinge in the muscles of my hand. The twinge became a tingling—more painful than pleasurable, but the sensation was odd, as if my bones were reconstructing themselves. Feeling returned to me finger by finger, and blood rushed to my palm as the swelling went down and my veins blued. I held my breath until it was over; then I gasped. “How did you—”
Edan poured water liberally over my hand, washing away the blood and soothing the bruises. “Healing was never my gift, but I learned enough to be useful.”
I sat up. “I meant, how did you find me?”
“Oh,” he said. “I heard you scream. Good thing you did. My hearing is very sensitive, you know.”
I was barely listening. I wished he hadn’t taken away my gag. The pain in my hand spiked, and I wanted to scream again, but I wouldn’t—not in front of Edan. So I clenched my teeth together and clamped my lips closed.
Slowly, the bruises faded before my eyes, the ones over my knuckles taking longest to disappear. I watched, so mesmerized that I almost forgot the pain.
“There,” Edan announced. “Good as new. Almost, anyway.”
I stared at my hand.
“No ‘thank you’?” said Edan mildly.
“Thank you,” I breathed, flipping my hand back and forth. Even my calluses were gone. It would be a nuisance developing new ones, but better than having a broken hand. “Thank you.”
“Hmph,” Edan said. Brusquely, he took my hand and studied it. “Not bad. Healing works best directly after the injury is sustained, you see. Once the blood and bones settle in the wrong place, it’s difficult to convince them to return.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means enchantments are usually only temporary. Which is why I’ll have to watch over your hand very carefully.”
I cleared my throat, suddenly made uncomfortable by Edan’s attention, and put on my most businesslike voice. “I want to repay you for healing me. I don’t have much money, but—”
He let out a short laugh. “Save your jens. Enchanters have little need for money, or anything else. I don’t need any payment.”
“What about help mending?” I persisted. I gestured at his clothes. “Or a new garment that’s a bit more colorful than the black you always wear.”
“A new cloak could be tempting,” he mused. “Though, come to think of it, a favor from you might prove useful one day, especially given you’ve those scissors. I’ll think on it, Maia Tamarin. Thank you.”
His long fingers brushed the back of my injured hand, wrapping bandages over me. My stomach swooped from the intimacy of it, and when he was done, I drew my hand back.
“Thankyou,” I said quietly.
Edan merely smiled. For the first time, I wished he would keep talking. This silence felt heavy, awkward. “Finish your tea.”
I hesitated.
“Toads and turds, girl, it’s not poison. Drink the whole thing.”
