A loud exhale left the Urchin then, the tension in his shoulders easing some. A breathless laugh echoed between them, a sound she’d never heard. “Leave the match…” She startled when the box clattered onto the table. “Miss Pennigrim—” he began.
Alora,she corrected inside.
They both turned toward the door when it swung in.
“What is it now, Mer—” The stranger ceased speaking at seeing Alora sprawled upon the sofa. Another Urchin. Another black cowl and masked jaw, though this one’s hands were uncovered.
Alora ceased thinking at all. All except for one thought.I’ve made another grave mistake.
“Well. If this isn’t a first,” droned the new arrival.
She pushed to the heels of her palms and flinched when the grip of a hand found her bare shoulder. She couldn’t help glancing down at it. “He’s a healer,” said the man beside her.
A healer.AnUrchinhealer.
“The best there is. It will be effortless, painless—”
“Some effort, I’d say. I did have to get out of bed,” said the second Urchin, and he moved farther into the room, enough to latch the door closed. His voice, too, was rasping.
A singular moment flashed in Alora’s mind from back in the street. “When did you forget to fear me?”
She certainly remembered now. Her heart sped, her palms slick. She didn’t want to give away any more of herself than she already had, but if she needed to in order to protect herself, she’d do what she must. If she imagined them asleep, would they fall to dreams? They might never wake would be the problem. Or perhaps the solution?
The Urchin must have become alerted to her stress, because his fingers pressed deeper into her shoulder. “You won’t be harmed.”
“Where have you brought me?” she whispered, as the healer moved to pour himself a drink from a cart against the far wall.
“A meeting place.”
“Of Urchins.”
“Yes.”
His hand hadn’t moved, like he was worried she’d bolt. Which she wouldn’t. Not until she ensured they couldn’t follow.
“What is the damage then?” said the healer. He remained turned from her as to pull down his mask and drain his glass.
“Ankle sprain. Fairly certain it isn’t broken.”
“It isn’t,” said Alora in a near shout. A ball of panic began to grow in her chest. She didn’t want him to touch her. Didn’t want him to mend the bones. What if he made a mistake? What if he caused them to disappear entirely? There was no cure for that. Bones could not be regrown.
She would know.
“Let’s see, shall we?” The healer rubbed his hands together.
Distantly, Alora thought perhaps it was to warm them before he placed them against her skin. Directly in front of her though, it appeared a gleeful gesture. Like he couldn’t wait to dig around inside her with his ability. Her stare riveted on the rings adorning his thumbs.
“No.”
“Miss Pennigrim, please. That ankle requires attention.”
Alora tracked up the arm holding her, to the masked mouth, as it was all she could see. “I said I would go to the doctor.”
“They won’t heal you so well as him.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Yes, I can.”
