Page 32 of Dream Reaper

But then the flame eased backward. Ava blinked until her eyes accustomed to the sudden glow of light. Brynja glared down at her, the torch held high in one hand.

“I’ve stitched the dragon’s wounds earlier today,” Brynja said, her tone hard and emotionless. “What else would you do for her?”

Ava winced and dragged herself to her feet. “You stitched her⁠—”

“I said, what else would you do for her?” Brynja repeated, her tone icier than ever.

“Is, uh, is there any sign of infection?”

Brynja didn’t so much as blink or draw breath. She might have been made of stone, not flesh and blood.

“If the, uh, scales are warmer to the touch than normal, I would put on a poultice. Turmeric and clay, if you have them.”

“Clay we can do,” Brynja said, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t even know what turmeric is.”

“Ah. It comes from the Dunewatch. They grow it underground. It’s the rhizomes that you need. It’s an orange-colored spice if you purchase it from an apothecary or a wise woman.”

“I’ll just trot down to the nearest dune post and fetch some, shall I?”

Ava’s cheeks grew warm. “You could also try a clay and ash poultice. You should be able to find those around here.”

Brynja took a sudden step forward. “Watch your tone, elf.”

“I meant no disrespect.” She backed deeper into the dark storage room. “I was merely answering your question.”

“You were merely doing much more than that.”

An awkward silence followed, and neither of them seemed willing to break it.

At last, Ava drew in a slow, steadying breath. “When she is awake, I would feed her broth with a little ale and ash mixed in it. Make sure it isn’t boiling, but dragons do like it quite hot.”

“Ash?” A flicker of doubt rippled over Brynja’s face, the first sign of emotion she’d shown since entering the storeroom. “In her broth?”

Ava forced a smile that she hoped was encouraging. She wasn’t really accustomed to smiling. In her line of work, patients preferred a calm and confident healer who comforted with their actions and with their results, not with their smiles.

“I know it sounds strange,” she said. “But ash is healing for dragons. At least, that’s what I’ve read.”

“So, you’ve never tested this ridiculous theory yourself, then?”

Ava shook her head, swallowing the lump in the back of her throat. “No. I’ve never been asked to heal a dragon before. But I’ve studied extensively in my apprenticeship.”

“You’re an apprentice?” More doubt crept into the human girl’s tone. “You must really have him wrapped around your little finger if he trusts you with his dragon. You aren’t even a proper healer. She’d be better off on her own…”

She stepped backward as if she meant to retreat and close the door.

Ava surged forward, one hand outstretched. “Please don’t go. I-I haven’t had any food and water since yesterday. And I can help you with the dragon. I can show you how to get her to take the broth, and⁠—”

“I’ll just give her the bowl, won’t I? If she’s thirsty, she’ll drink.”

Ava winced and shook her head at the girl’s ignorance. “That won’t work. When an animal is ill, they can be difficult to entice.”

Brynja blew out a noisy breath. “If you’re trying to coerce me into letting you out of this cell, you’re crazy. You aren’t going anywhere.”

Tears pricked behind Ava’s eyes, the exhaustion, hunger, and thirst gnawing at her insides as she lifted her chin a fraction. “Very well. I will wait here, and we can re-discuss this after you’ve tried to feed an angry dragon from a bowl. And after I stitch your hand back on after it’s been bitten off.”

Brynja’s mouth thinned to a dangerously white line. “Watch your words, elf. I’m the only thing standing between you and a shallow grave.”

“And I am the only thing standing between that dragon and her grave,” Ava said softly. “I may not be a master healer, but they trusted me to work with the prince of Gelaira. I am quite skilled. I mean no one any harm. I’m just a healer. Nothing more.”