“It seems the dragons have finally gone back to the sea,” murmured Takkan as the rain abated.
I’d completely forgotten about the storm. I started to pick up my bruised persimmons, but the cold had numbed some of the tender spots in my fingers and I forgot to be careful. A spasm of pain shot up my hand, and I winced, gritting my teeth until it passed.
“What is it?” Takkan asked worriedly. “Are you hurt?”
No. No.I drew my hands behind my back. I pretended to shiver as I wrapped them.Just cold.
“You don’t need to cover your hands, Lina. I’ve seen the burns.”
Of course he had.
Takkan tilted his head. “May I?”
I hesitated, Zairena’s ridicule still fresh in my memory. If Takkan were to recoil…
Then what?I reprimanded myself.What do you care what he thinks? What do you care what anyone thinks?
Ididn’tcare. I proved this to myself by yanking the scarf from my hands.
Indifferent, I am indifferent to Takkan.My mind chanted this refrain, but my eyes roved over his face as he inspected my fingers, a silvery latticework of cuts and burns. I could tell it upset him, seeing my hands hurt this way—more than the bowl on my head or that I refused to speak. A dozen questions perched on the lift of his brow. But his lips didn’t twist with disgust, nor did his eyes soften with pity. I didn’t think I could bear his pity.
“Your fingers won’t heal properly,” he intoned, “not when you have barbs still in your flesh. I could remove them for you now, but if you prefer to see the physician—”
No.I did not wish to see a physician. I did not wish to see anyone.
Takkan frowned. “Lina,” he said firmly, “your choice is either meorthe physician. Otherwise, you won’t be working in the kitchen, not with your hands like this.”
I felt a stab of annoyance and crossed my arms.Are you commanding me now?
“Don’t look at me like that. It won’t do you good, cooking with an injury. The longer you go without help, the longer your hands will take to heal.”
His eyes were adamant, one thick eyebrow slightly raised as if to dare further disagreement.
Much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I had done my best to take the barbs out every night, but my fingers were no longer deft at such precise work, and a few stubborn ones remained. They bothered me more than the cuts and burns.
I twisted my lips, then laid my palm flat for him to begin.Go ahead.
“Would you like a handkerchief or something to bite down on?”
I wanted to laugh. A few barbs would hardly be enough to make me whimper, let alone scream. Instead I shook my head.
Holding my hand still, he removed the barbs, slowly and steadily. His hands were so gentle it almost tickled.
I looked away, watching incense burn beside the altar. Usually its smell, a smoky marriage of sandalwood and jasmine, made me sleepy, but not here. Not while the sticks burned in front of my slipper and tapestry. Not while Takkan was holding my hands. I turned back to him, so focused on his task that he barely noticed me.
Funny, I used to flirt with the boys at court by sitting this near to them. Flashing coy smiles and brushing my elbows against theirs was a game for me at festivals and boring ceremonies Father made me attend. I liked seeing the effects of my attention—whether it made their breathing quicken or their ears redden, whether they immediately began to recite poetry or tried to claim my hand. But with Takkan, I didn’t dare. It wasn’t a game with him.
When at last he finished, he reached into his pocket for a wooden container of balm, the same he carried for his wounds. A familiar whiff of medicine stung my nose, herbal and sharp.
“Try this,” he said helpfully. “Rub some on your hands every morning, and when the pain keeps you awake at night.”
Thank you.I turned for the door, eager to finally leave.
Outside, the rain had set into a soft, powdery snow, and torches lit the fortress grounds, their flames quivering against the wind like fireflies.
“Wait, Lina,” said Takkan, clasping the other end of the sliding door. All traces of his earlier pride had vanished, and his voice had gone solemn. “They told me you were found in the middle of the Zhensa. I swore not to ask you about your past, but if someone has hurt you, or if you are in trouble…tell me. Please, don’t hide. I’m a friend.”
My heart grew suddenly heavy, and I was glad he couldn’t see my eyes. They would have given me away. Slowly, ever so slowly, I made the slightest nod.
