One bottle - water, I assume - is emptied into the bowl. The other I recognize as soon as Bridgette pulls the cork free. It’s alcohol, the same type we use to clean wounds in the clinic.
“This potency of alcohol catches fire easily,” Bridgette says as she wets the end of one rag with the acrid contents. “But it also burns quickly. Too quickly to damage skin unless there’s a puddle of it.” She approaches, and my skin prickles at her proximity. Gentle fingers brush my curls over my shoulders before the rag draws a line of cold alcohol down my back. “Ready?”
I let out a breath, skin shivering where she’s wet it. “Ready.”
Bridgette lights a match before she brings the flame to my back. There’s awhooshof air, a shock of warmth, soft as wings against my skin. It travels up and down the line of alcohol before Bridgette snuffs it with a damp rag, a shock of cold after the heat.
“Wax will get you a fire burst,” Bridgette says as she draws another line across my skin, twisting it back and forth over my spine. “Butthiswill get you an inferno.”
She brings the match down again, and heat races across my back. I groan and sink against the bed, enjoying the shock of warmth before the damp cloth snuffs it out.
“Too hot?” Bridgette asks.
“No, it’s perfect,” I say as I melt under her hand.
“Want more?”
I can’t help but grin. “Always.”
Bridgette draws another pattern of alcohol, a pentacle that crosses the center of my back. The match connects, and the lines of fire race out to fill the pattern. It burns for longer than her previous designs, and I gasp at the heat before Bridgette snuffs it out.
I enjoy the attentions as she draws another pattern, a spiral twisting out from the center of my back. It disappears in a snaking trail of heat that seems to ease every knot in my back. Yet even as my body relaxes, my mind is far less capable.
“Can I ask you something?” I say at last.
“Of course.”
“Do you think Arlon will be... okay with this plan?”
“Arlon is... cautious,” she says carefully. “Sometimes too cautious, in my opinion.”
My hopes sink and I bury my face against the covers. They still hold his scent. “You think he’ll hate it.”
“I didn’t say that,” Bridgette says, amused, as she draws another line of alcohol across my skin. “I think he will be... surprised by the audacity of it.”
She brings the match down, and comforting heat blooms from the pattern she created. It doesn’t do much to stop my swirling thoughts. Yet it’s like Bridgette can feel the whirlpool as her fingers trail over my back.
“Gal, look at me.” I turn my head and am greeted by a gentle hand that smooths my curls away from my face. “Youaren’t Arlon.”
Cancassi had told me they thought I would be a very different Grandmaster than Arlon, but wrapped in my own doubt, it’s hard to say if that’s a good thing or not.
“Every Grandmaster of the Crux has brought something different to the position,” Bridgette continues, “and you will be no exception.”
“He’s just always... so certain,” I sigh.
Bridgette lets out a huff of a laugh as she rolls her eyes. “Gal, Arlon deals with doubts, the same as the rest of us. For better or worse, he’s just very good athidingthem.”
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she idly draws another line of alcohol over my skin. When she brings the match to it, I close my eyes, trying to calm the tempest.
“Maybe this idea is too much. Maybe I should scrap it. Come up with something else. Something less risky,” I say and hate how uncertain, how scared my voice sounds. “I just - gods, this whole thing could misfirespectacularly. And if I fuck this up, then that’s it. My chance of making this position permanent? Gone. Redeeming my family’s name? Forget it. And on top of that, I’ll have created a whole other headache for Arlon when he gets back.”
Bridgette tsks before she trades the alcohol-dipped rag for one of the other bottles on the bedside table. She pours some of its contents onto my back, and I catch the scent of lavender before she starts to massage the oil into my skin. I bite back a groan as her fingers rub the knot of tension that’s turned my shoulders into rocks.
“You’re focusing on the wrong things,” she says simply. “So let me ask you this. What happens if this plan goes how you imagine?”
My thoughts spiral off, reaching towards more hopeful futures. “If this works... wizards will get attention in town, but hopefully for a better reason. If people are receptive to this... it could cool the mood a bit. Help build the trust back between the Crux and the city.”
Bridgette’s palms smooth firmly down my back, wringing a groan from me as she says, “And, if you want my opinion, succeeding at that is going to get you a permanent appointment as Grandmaster. Do you know why?”
