Even if the hope of him coming to save me was sometimes the only thing keeping me sane.
He doesn’t need to know that.
The door opens and a skinny elf in glasses rushes in. “I’ve heard about your arm, Prince Tristan—”
“It can wait. Please see to my… to Nate first. Lutie told you about the need for discretion?”
The elf swallows, his eyes passing over me with such pity I can’t watch it anymore.
“But… Ser Tristan, I’ve never treated a human before.”
This is so humiliating. Now my guardian has to convince the doctor to bother looking at me. But he does and even promises to turn away as the medic opens the cloak. That does make my ordeal slightly more bearable. After the examination, I’m happy to be once again wrapped in the fine cloak.
I love it so much.
Loved it from that first moment Tristan draped it over my shoulders.
The list of things that are wrong with me is long. The worst of the treatment is the moment when the elf forces my ankle back into its proper position. But he does give me some bitter drops that relieve the pain a little bit. Then, there’s a special potion meant to be added to my baths, and a syrup I’m supposed to consume every eight hours. I’m to stay warm, on soft padding, and eat small quantities of liquid food, or else I could drop dead.
Makes sense. Basic biology.
Knowledge doesn’t make me feel any less hungry though.
The medic concludes I should be seen by someone more specialized, and that’s that. He seems very happy tending to Tristan’s injury instead. There’s a spark of curiosity in me at how different the treatment is. From under my blanket I see themedic wrap some green wet rags, or maybe leaves, over Tristan’s arm once it’s set in place. He then dries it with the green fire called swamp light, so that it creates a kind of cast. Apparently, he will be fine within the week.
It makes me hope that my state could also be healed sooner were I to use elven means for it. But then I remember I don’t want to stay here.
Right before the medic leaves, our food arrives on an elegant trolley, but Tristan ushers out the servant who tries to get a peek at me.
Once we’re alone, the silence is filled only by the crackling of real, warm, orange flames in the fireplace, and the clattering of dishes as Tristan prepares our bowls. He struggles with his stiff arm, but I’m in no state to help him.
Why should I, anyway? He spent the last two months enjoying his royal life in a castle while I rotted in a dungeon, never knowing if the next day wouldn’t be my last.
I don’t bother filling the silence, but as much as I hate being too weak to eat on my own, the scent of clear vegetable soup makes my stomach growl. I’m grateful when he feeds it to me with a spoon.
I have never eaten anything more delicious.
My grandma used to say ‘hunger is the best sauce’ and she wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t even notice when Tristan managed to get the bathtub filled, but the moment I’m done eating, he offers me the warm water. The last thing I want is for him to see my naked body again, but once I wrap myself in a linen sheet, he carries me to the tub, which already smells of the healing oils.
A part of me is furious and wishes I could walk on my own, but another part is greedy for affection and happy about the excuse to touch him.
He sits on a stool by the tub, golden eyes so earnest. He’s the opposite of Gloombane, yet I can’t trust him. How would I know what his real agenda is now?
“Would you like me to help?” he asks, grabbing a sponge.
My first instinct is to shake my head and attempt to wrestle the sponge out of his hand, but I don’t have the energy for it. Maybe it doesn’t matter that he gets to see the ruined state of me? I just need a bit of help.
Tears threaten to fall again, so I keep them in by squeezing my eyes shut, but I nod, and the first swipe with the warm, soapy cloth feels like the touch of an angel.
“What happened, Nate? Why did he do this?”
Is he blind? Even random elves at the tavern commented on my shadow, and it was the reason why Gloombane didn’t want me in the first place!
“What do you think?” I snap, forcing sound through the rock in my throat. A tear rolls down my cheek from the humiliation of it all. “I was useless to him with a shadow this pale. He said… he said if he can make me suffer, it would darken.”
Tristan’s eyes widen. “That’s… despicable. And clearly hasn’t worked!”
