The sight of my wound made me inhale sharply. It looked worse than I had expected. Bruises in varying shades of purple and blue extended across my entire right side, with a prominent, angry red burn in the center that was still oozing fluid. Baradaz grabbed a clothsoaked in disinfectant salve and began to cleanse the wound, the sting causing me to groan.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, not glancing up. “At least it looks better today. The infection seems to be gone.”
Stars, I didn’t want to know how it had looked when I arrived here. And I hadn’t even thanked her yet for saving me.
“Thank you for taking care of me. I know you did not have to.”
To keep the pain at bay, I concentrated on the feeling of having her so close again after such a long time. She had to lean over me quite far to reach my injured side, and every movement granted me a whiff of her enticing scent, the vulnerable, soft skin of her neck temptingly close.
What I wouldn’t give to bury my nose in her hair and breathe her in deeply.
Baradaz merely nodded at my words and completed her task. “There. It should heal nicely, though it will take some time.” Her fingers lingered on my skin a moment too long before she bandaged me up again. “It will leave quite a scar, though, I’m afraid.”
I relentlessly pounded at the slight fissure in her mask, hoping it would become a genuine crack, revealing the old Baradaz beneath. “Well, it’s not the only mark you’ve left on me.”
As expected, my casual words made her glance at the silvery scars on my shoulder and the elegant black lines covering the left side of my body. An instinctual reaction she couldn’t suppress.
Say something,I wanted to beg her.Anything. Stop acting like you don’t know what it means, like you don’t know what I feel. Stop pretending you don’t care.
Her head turned toward me, and our eyes locked. For one glorious moment, everything fell away—the war, the endless years of loneliness, the pain, everything I had done.
Our breaths mingled, and I felt as if I were back at the beginning.Standing at the edge of the Abyss, the icy winds of the Other raging around us, my body thrumming with anticipation as I leaned closer to her, her face tilting up to mine…
In a swift motion, Baradaz pulled back, her expression shifting from vulnerable to guarded, as if a frozen wall had been rebuilt between us. Her ability to rein in her emotions with ruthless efficiency would have impressed me if she were anyone else. In her, I despised it. I had always hated it when she allowed any part of her nature to be caged.
“This was with your things. I suppose I don’t need to ask how you found me.” Baradaz fiddled something out of the pocket of her breeches and placed it on the nightstand with a soft clink. Alyr-stone, Air magic moving restlessly underneath its surface. She gave me a questioning look. “How did you center a tracking spell? I wasn’t aware you had anything of mine in your possession.”
You’re in my veins,I wanted to answer. It was the truth. If someone were to spill my blood, scatter my very being to the winds, I suspected the remaining tatters of my spirit would still yearn for her somehow.
“There was enough of your magic left in me to weave the spell.”
My response made her gaze flit away from me, her lips pressing together as she took a deep breath. “Then you found quite the talented Air-Weaver,” she said hoarsely, deliberately ignoring my reminder of the bond between us. Over the ages, she had surely cursed the existence of that bond countless times. Not that more than a faint shadow of it remained.
“Or she found me,” I answered, for once not laying a finger on her wounds, too consumed by my own endless regrets. Baradaz stepped back to the table and began tidying up the medical supplies. “I see you had no qualms about going through my belongings,” I said, breaking the silence once more.
She shot me an annoyed look. “You arrived at my door badly wounded and without explanation. Who could have said whether whoever did this to you followed you here?” Her eyes flashed. “Call it a safety precaution.”
That silenced me, as I had no desire to discuss the details of my injuries with her.
“What happened?” she asked, a challenging look in her eyes. “Did your past catch up with you?”
I hesitated, reluctant to reveal the whole truth. It would not soften her toward me.
“In a way. It’s not as if I lack enemies,” I replied, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.
Baradaz huffed, but didn’t press for more details. However, I knew better than to think she wouldn’t bring it up again.
Something else was pressing on my mind, though—or more precisely, on my bladder. I cleared my throat. “Can you help me get to the bathroom?”
Baradaz raised an eyebrow, her expression turning sardonic. “You can’t even sit up on your own. There’s no way we’ll get you to another room.” She pulled a battered-looking pot that she had obviously dug up for this purpose from under the bed and shoved it in my hands. “Use this.”
“I am not using a bloody chamber pot, woman!” I snapped in indignation.
“Don’t worry. I shovel the dung of ten araks every other day.” Her eyes held not a glimmer of compassion as she stood up and moved toward the door. “I can manage emptying one chamber pot.”
Oh yes, why settle for merely damaging my self-esteem when she could utterly shred it to pieces and gather the sorry remains, creating a nice little bonfire to merrily dance around?
The next minutes were perhaps among the most humiliating in my entire existence and left me trembling and covered in sweat. Being Human, I decided, not for the first time, was an utterly disgusting experience.
