"Not long now," said the one with the raspy voice.
"Shall I call the m-master?" answered the other.
"Yes. I am sure he’s impatient."
Shuffling footsteps faded.
The taste of the elixir bubbled in Luella’s empty, nauseous stomach. She tried to keep it down, but started to gag again, and the fae female touched her brow, hands waving over her nose and mouth, and offering a soothing peppermint scent fromthe oils clinging to her fingers. "Do not throw it up." She spoke softly. "He is almost here."
A heaviness suddenly hung about the room, taking the chill in her bones and forcing it down into an oppressive sort of iciness.
"She does not look well." Caliban’s voice filled the room, quiet and deadly.
Luella trembled.
"Master, she is as well as she can be. We—did the best we could."
Luella tried to speak, to question where she was, but all that came out was a low groan.
Caliban’s profile was distorted from the shadows; they clung to the air around him like smoke. He stood before the female, a hand coming to rest on the table by Luella’s hip. He stared down at her momentarily, expression unreadable. "The best you can do is offer her to me, half-broken and incoherent?" he asked lowly.
Luella would have flinched, but everything was still hurting. She only watched.
"Apologies, Master. We will endeavor to do better." The female’s scratchy voice caught.
"See that you do. I expect this will not be the last time you heal her injuries." Caliban clapped his hands together suddenly. "Tell me, what is it you have done to her. In detail."
His every word was measured, as if not many lived inside him, so he had to carefully pick and choose which to string together to form the perfect sentence. The line of his shoulders was loose, but he carried himself guarded, on edge, eyes constantly shifting.
The female touched Luella’s right shoulder. Luella felt her fingers trembling against her. "Her hand was ruined. Crushed. We cut open the skin just above the joints and fused the brokenbones. A few—nerves were damaged. I do not believe they will ever be able to be repaired fully."
Caliban made a low growl. He moved, and the female made a sound of protest, quelled by the violent look in his eyes.
Luella felt his touch at her wrist, and a pained whimper was torn from within her. He prodded the bones in the back of her hand, then down to her fingertips.
She stopped feeling him halfway down her palm, then it came back as he touched the middle of her pointer finger, only for sensations to fizzle away as he pressed down on the pads of her fingers. She saw him as he did so, but could not feel it. The places she did feel, however, caused immense pain. It felt like her bones were bruised.
When he was done, she exhaled in relief as he let her go.
The maid gestured to Luella’s ankle. "Her ankle was sprained. We applied a cooling salve for the swelling."
"Can she walk?" Caliban wanted to know.
"Yes."
He hummed, then placed his hand by Luella’s head on the stone, looming over her. Her breaths stuttered from her aching lungs. His eyes were ripe with shadows.
"Get up."
Luella didn’t move.
"Help her." He didn’t raise his voice—he didn’t need to.
The females placed their hands under her shoulders and helped her sit up. Ithurt.
The sheet slipped down to pool at her waist, revealing her nude upper half. She couldn’t even move her arm properly to straighten it. She felt his stare—it was less hungry and more appraising, like one might look at a fresh cut of meat.
Caliban’s eyes shifted to stare at her wings. Luella felt them at her back, tired and trembling. The strain of flying hadworn her down until nothing was left of them but two lifeless, feathered husks.
