12
Rada
Leaning on each other, Noctis and I entered the house, followed by Bane, shaking the rainwater from his fur. I gritted my teeth at the sharp pain that pounded through my wrist.
“You own a healing stone, don’t you?” Noctis said, helping me into a chair at the dining table. “We need to use it on your hand. I fear it might be sprained or broken.”
He stubbornly refused to rest before he had examined my injury. With a weary sigh, I nestled into the blanket he had retrieved, savoring the comforting warmth that gradually banished the chill of my damp clothes.
I handed him the worn-out Fire stone. “You can put that one back,” I told him, then quickly explained where I kept mylyr-stones. Despite my reluctance to reveal all my secrets, I knew there was no point in withholding this information.
Noctis draped a second blanket over his shoulders and headed to the kitchen to retrieve thelyr-stone. Frustration welled up inside me as he returned and carefully placed it on my throbbing wrist. Ididn’t need the ominous hum of the healing stone to tell me this was bad.
Maker, how would I manage if the stone wasn’t powerful enough to heal me? My animals, the farm… They needed me. Not to mention the risk that Vultaron had not been the last of Noctis’s former followers coming after him.
“Can you use it to heal yourself?” Noctis asked, his eyes meeting mine as he sat down. His gaze was filled with compassion. And worry. I resolutely ignored both.
“Healing yourself is inefficient; the necessary patterns are too delicate to weave when you’re in pain.” I took a deep breath. “Besides, the stone can only mend minor injuries. I might be able to speed up my recovery, but it will still take a few tendays before I can fully use my hand again.” Tears stung my eyes. Saying it out loud made it feel even worse.
“Is there a healer nearby who could help you?”
I shook my head. “The nearest healer is in Dalath. It takes a two-hour ride to get there.” I rubbed my temple, fighting another wave of nausea. “But Kyree will realize I am not Human if he heals me, so that’s not an option.”
“Fine,” Noctis said, reaching for the healing stone. “Then I’ll try.”
“Your healing skills are terrible,” I answered, coughing as bile rose in my throat. Curse it, if I was feeling this ill, my wrist was probably broken and…
My abdomen convulsed, and I retched, throwing up all over the floor.
The following moments passed in a blur, wave after wave of nausea making me bend over and vomit repeatedly until my body thankfully decided my stomach was empty. Someone gently held my hair away and rubbed circles on my back. When it was finally over, I couldonly close my eyes and rest my head on the table, utterly exhausted. Would this all disappear if I ignored it long enough?
The sound of water splashing and the sharp scent of vinegar pulled me out of my misery. I realized that Noctis had moved away from me some time ago. Disbelief washed over me as I opened one eye to find him kneeling on the floor next to a bucket filled with water, a rag in his hands, cleaning up the mess I had made.
“Maker! Let me do that,” I exclaimed, attempting to rise.
“Don’t you dare move from that chair, Baradaz,” he ordered, giving me a fierce look. “I’ve got this.” A wry smile lifted his lips as he wrung out the rag and resumed scrubbing. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to clean up vomit. I’ll survive.”
“Isn’t it?” I asked, resting my head on my arms, torn between gratitude and embarrassment.
Noctis carried the bucket into the kitchen to empty it and wash his hands, a twinkle in his eyes as he returned to the table with a glass of water and a clean cloth. His amusement was quite astonishing, given the situation. I murmured a quiet thanks, greedily gulped down the water, and wiped my face.
“I had quite the learning curve regarding the susceptibility of mortals to alcohol after becoming Human,” Noctis remarked, settling into the chair opposite me. “Now,” he said, gently reaching for my injured wrist. “That wrist is broken.”
“I know,” I said, letting my head fall back onto the table.
“You need some healing magic.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
“I know,” I told the fascinating swirls and patterns on the wooden surface in front of me.
“There is a way to weave that healing spell,” Noctis said, his voice vexingly gentle, as if I were a frightened animal he was trying to soothe.
“I am not letting you into my mind,” I snapped, glaring at him. Regret washed over me as soon as I saw the overly understanding expression on his face.
“Of course not,” he replied, lightly trailing his fingers over my skin. “It would be no more than a shallow touch.” Why was I even allowing him to hold my hand? His intense dark eyes remained fixed on my face, their openness unsettling. “I swear, I won’t go anywhere I’m not welcome.”
“No!” I could hear the desperation in my voice.
“Baradaz, that wrist has to be healed.”
