Page 99 of Veiled

My muscles are burning, every joint sore, every breath ragged. But it’s a good kind of exhaustion, the kind that feels like progress.

“Get a drink and head outside for suicide runs,” Korr orders.

I thank Ian, my voice hoarse, and stagger toward the door. The hill from hell looms outside—steep and relentless.

I slip into my room, quickly downing one of the pain and anti-inflammatory tinctures that Sasha has been secretly making in her room to help her recover from her more physical classes, and change my clothes before running out the door to Combat Medicine.

As soon as the doors close, Healer Alric rises from his desk and stands in front of us. “Broken bones aren’t just painful; they can be life-threatening if they are not treated promptly or correctly. Today, we’re focusing on fractures and how to properly stabilize a splint, reducing further injury and, hopefully, preventing shock from setting in.

“The dummies will be your patients today. You and your lab partner will take turns assessing each wound. Using the materials in front of you, you will decide the best way to treat the fracture. These are not to be rushed through. I want you to take in every joint, muscle, and bone as you determine which position and angle will be most beneficial to your patients' long-term recovery.”

Zeke slides into position as the first “healer” for our dummy. His confidence is clear as he begins wrapping the rod along the dummy’s forearm in quick, practiced motions. With a firm tug, he ties the cloth off and reaches for the second support piece.

I tilt my head, watching the way he’s positioning the splint. It’s straight like it should be, but it’s wrong. The angle is too sharp, too rigid. He’s pinning the wrist in a way that would trap the swelling instead.

“Zeke,” I say slowly, taking a step closer. “Hold on.”

He pauses, one eyebrow raised. “What? It’s aligned. I checked.”

I shake my head. “You’re right, but it’s too tight around the joint. If this were a real arm, you’d be cutting off circulation within minutes.”

He frowns like he doesn’t quite believe me, but I can see the hesitation flicker. Zeke is usually the one helping me with my mistakes, not the other way around.

A memory flashes in my mind of my dad slamming my wrist into the wall too hard, the white-hot pain I felt, and then the cold of the hospital as the doctor pressed gently on my swollen forearm.

“She was playing with the neighbor kid and fell from a tree,” my dad told him.

The doctor looked at him, then at me as he adjusted the splint with careful hands, “You really should be more careful. You’re lucky to have had your dad so close.

“Joints need room,” he’d told my dad. “If it’s too tight, swelling has nowhere to go. That’s how you lose circulation. Or worse.”

I breathe out slowly and gesture to the dummy’s wrist. “Here,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Leave a little space around the joint. If you wrap too tightly, you’ll crush everything underneath, and it’ll lose circulation.”

Zeke’s face shifts—confusion, then understanding, then a spark of concern. He loosens the cloth with careful fingers. “Like this?”

I nod, adjusting the angle slightly. “Exactly. See? It stabilizes without pinning the wrist in place. Keeps circulation open.”

He huffs a breathy laugh. “Huh. And here I was feeling cocky today.”

“Don’t worry, you can still be cocky when you fix all my mistakes in a minute,” I smirk.

He bumps my shoulder with his. “Thanks, and good catch. You weren’t kidding when you said you’re always studying for this class.”

Healer Alric appears behind us suddenly, closely inspecting the splint. His eyes crinkle with rare approval.

“Excellent correction,” he tells me. “That wouldn’t have been an easily noticed mistake, especially once he had the second step complete. You may have saved your patient's limb, congratulations.”

Zeke shoots me a look, half impressed, half teasing. “That’s high praise from Healer Alric. I’m surprised he didn’t give you a medal for your act of service.”

I roll my eyes, but warmth blooms in my chest anyway. I’m still not good at this, but I’m getting better.

Chapter thirty-seven

Annalise

“It’s not that I don’t miss you guys, I really do,” Sasha says sheepishly, though she hasn't stopped smiling. “But spending every afternoon trying out new recipes with the endless resources I have is literally a dream come true! Yesterday, I started working on a powder that, if I can get it right, can be mixed in while blades are being made, allowing them to be able to ignite with the flick of a switch…or maybe a press of a button—I haven't decided yet.”

“Holy Shit, Sash! You’re incredible! I didn’t know you guys would start working on such complicated spells as soon as the rest of us were out of your way,” I say, completely in awe of my friend.