“That’s to help mend the skin. It’ll speed up the healing to close up the scratches and shouldn’t leave a scar. On a Fae it should be healed by the morning, but it may take an extra day or so for a human. I can’t say for sure since I’ve never used it on one.”
“And the rest?” He’s finished with the poultice and has grabbed the smooth wood and bandage roll.
“I need to splint your hand. It’ll keep everything in place where it needs to be so the bones can heal properly. If they’re even the slightest bit disturbed, you could have some complications with your hand.” He flips my injured hand, so my palm is facing up. He lays the wood, so it covers my hand from the center of my palm up to my fingertips.
“How do you know how to do this?” I ask out of genuine curiosity.
He flicks his eyes to mine briefly before he drops them back down to my hand and mine follow suit, watching his movements as he lines the end of the roll to the base of the board. “I’ve had to treat my fair share of wounds before,” he answers simply.
“Your own or others?”
He’s silent for so long, carefully wrapping the bandage around my hand, that I almost don’t think he’s going to answer. I’ve asked something too personal. I’m about to say something to tell him that I take it back, but he speaks before I can. “Yes.” That's all he says, but it’s answer enough, and I don’t dare push him further on the topic.
My eyes snag on the hand that’s bracing mine while he wraps it in the bandage. It’s the one with the strange marking on the wrist. I know I shouldn’t say anything, especially after I’ve already asked something personal, but my curiosity wins out.
“Is that some sort of birthmark?” The lines are thick and could easily be some sort of permanent ink on his skin, but the way it looks seamless on his skin makes me think that it’s not a tattoo. Or at least not a mortal one. Maybe ones here are infused with some sort of magical ink that they sink and settle into skin.
His wrapping pauses for a split second before he continues, but his gaze tracks mine to the mark. “Something like that, but not quite.”
I watch him, eyes locked, silently urging him to continue. I’m curious, yes, but the conversation is helping to keep my attention off the pain in my hand. Although, he’s right. That disk under my tongue has started to dull the pain as it’s begun to dissolve.
I know the moment I win because he lets out a long sigh, dropping his eyes to focus on my hand as he speaks. “It appeared when I was only ten?—”
“Appeared?” I interrupt. He lifts his eyes to mine and an eyebrow raises as if to saydo you want to hear the story or not?“Sorry,” I mutter, and use my free hand to mime turning a key in a lock over my lips and tossing the invisible key over my shoulder.
He shakes his head with an eye roll but continues. “As I was saying… It appeared when I was ten.” He pauses to makesure I’m not going to interrupt. “It’s ancient Fae magic that no one really understands how it works. These kinds of markings show up when the Fates have determined a specific path for an individual through the assignment of a mate who will have a complementary marking.”
“Fates? You mentioned them when you spoke of the wisps. What are they exactly?”
“They’re these higher beings that weave the threads of destiny for the realm of Faerie. Or at least that’s what the legends claim.”
“Huh… So, what’s a mate then? I think I’ve seen something about them in one of the books I have back home but if I’m honest, I think I flipped past those pages.” I can feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Books?” He lifts his brows in question.
“Yeah, well I’ve stumbled across a couple here and there from traveling vendors. I’m almost positive they were written by humans because they have some of the most outlandish stories in them, but I’ve always been… curious.”
“Yeah, I can attest to that.” He chuckles as he gets back to work, and the sound settles something in me. “Mates are a Fate-chosen pair that are supposed to be the best fit for each other. What makes them the best fit is always different based on the pair. Sometimes it’s another equal in strength, sometimes it's someone who can balance the good and bad in the other. It’s never been something you can predict yourself. It’s always been set out by what the Fates believe is best.”
“So, wait, let me see if I have this right. This person is like, yourdestined lover?”
He gives a slight shrug. “Essentially.”
He has a Fates-chosen lover out there somewhere?! Oh, my gods. What if he’s already with her. And we cuddled in bed this morning. I think I’m going to be sick.
My jaw drops. “And this is all predetermined? You don’t get a choice in the matter?” Something about that doesn’t sit right with me. What if your Fates-chosen mate is someone truly horrid? Violent. Or lecherous. How is that fair for anyone?
He tilts his head side to side. “Well, at the end of the day, everyone gets a choice. You can choose to ignore or reject the bond, but in all honesty, most don’t. It’s a gift from the Fates and many welcome the one who is supposed to be their Fates-chosen partner. But the mark doesn’talwaysindicate a mate. It’s incredibly rare, but sometimes it can point to a different way in which the Fates have destined your path…” He trails off for a moment. “I’ve had this for… let’s just say quite a long time, and I’ve not yet found its paired mark yet, so it’s starting to look unlikely that’s what mine means.”
I’m instantly relieved to learn that he hasn’t found his mate yet. A feeling that I’m attributing to the fact that I’m not some home wrecker, andnotthat I’m relieved he’s single. “Oh, I see. And why the sun?” I ask as he finishes wrapping my hand, tucking the loose end into the tightly wrapped bandage.
He chuckles lightly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“So,” I say, drawing out the word as he gently places my injured hand back in my lap and turns to begin clearing up the supplies. “With thatquite a long timecomment… How oldareyou, exactly? The stories I’ve read say that Fae are immortal and can appear young for centuries.”
He meets my gaze with a smirk before refocusing on his clean up. “We’re not necessarily immortal in the sense that we’ll live forever. We do age and will eventually die of natural causes, but we age much slower than humans. So, yes, we can live for centuries before we pass and can appear incredibly young for several of those. As for my age, all you need to know is that I’m older than I look, but probably younger than you think.”
“How would you know how old I think you are?” I ask with a smug smile.
