Page 55 of Veiled

He looks like he wants to say something, but before he can, I add, “If there is nothing else, Sir, I would like to get in a quick stretch before sparring with my partner.”

“Oh, uhm, yes, of course, Miss Corvin. Good luck.”

After assuring Perry and Ariel that everything’s fine, I try to mentally prepare to spar. Usually, I can push through each fight with minimal reaction because I lock it out like I used to when someone else was hitting me, but I can’t risk it today, knowing Korr is watching.

The black eye that’s already beginning to swell when I sprint to my room to shower after class is all the proof I need that my reflexes still aren’t quick enough in a fight. I need to work with Matt again, immediately. It’s the only way to get back on track.

At this point, what class don’t I need extra help with?

I head over to Combat Medicine early to talk with Healer Alric about my absence, and we set a time for me to come in on Thursday evening to make up the test I missed on the MARCH procedure—identifying immediate life threats before treatment. After confirming Zeke and I were able to get all of our supplies for today, I’m dismissed.

When I spot Zeke, he’s waving from the table at the back of the class. I weave through the cluster of other recruits that are trying to find their partners and tables, and eventually make my way back to him. I don’t miss the looks at my black eye, or the girl who fails at her attempt to whisper, “Damn, I guess she really does like it rough. She should use some concealer at least.”

Fucking. Lucas.

Trying to beat the awkwardness of our last interaction by pretending everything’s normal, I start talking before I am even all the way to Zeke. “Hey! How was your weekend?”

“Not too bad, but I had a ton of studying hours to get in, and the library was packed, so I spent half the day on the hard floor. How about you? Other than supply shopping. Which, thanks again for doing all of that.”

“No problem. It was quick and easy.” I grin. “Plus, I took advantage of being in the city and stopped at their downtown market.”

“I didn't know they had a market here. Is it like a farmers' market or restaurants with food trucks? How was it?”

“A bit of both. I think it may have been the best food I’ve eaten in my entire life.” I laugh, reminiscing. “Probably the most I’ve ever eaten in a single day, too, but everything was so good, I couldn’t resist!

“I’m officially jealous. What were your favorites?”

“Ugh, I can’t pick! Maybe the tzatziki and pita chips? Ooo or the salmon tartare? Ok, don’t laugh, but it actually might have been the footlong hot dog,” I admit as I partially cover my face. Gods I’m a child. “Well, I had to split the hot dog because there was no way with all the other food I was eating that I could have finished it. But it was so juicy and cooked so it had barely started to split open.” I can’t help the little food moan that comes out.

“Ok, I lied. You can’t tell me anything else, my mouth is watering now, and we’re stuck here for the next two hours.” Then, he surprises me by asking, “So, who was the lucky bastard that got to try all that food with you?”

I seriously never know if he’s trying to flirt or if he’s still drooling over the food.

“There were like five of us, and we all ordered whatever sounded good and passed it around family style.”

“Oh, that sounds much better than my weekend. Maybe I shouldn’t have let you do all the shopping without me.”

“You can come to town with us next time we go, if you want?” I offer, because what else am I supposed to say to that?

Mentally, I’m begging Healer Alric to start class, something I never thought I’d say.

Too many minutes later, Healer Alric steps to the front and instructs us to open our books to page 27. “Last week you proved that you know the procedure for doing MARCH; today you will implement it on your mannequin patients.” He pauses as he looks us all over, making sure we are keeping up with his instructions. “Then, you will all demonstrate the correct application of combat tourniquets and wound packing for severe extremity hemorrhage before calling for me to grade.

“Mannequins are in the back. And be gentle with them, I don’t want blood all over my floor. Begin.”

“He doesn’t mean real blood, does he?” I whisper to Zeke as we get in line for our patient.

“Unfortunately, I’ve heard they each have their own blood pouches to make the exercise more lifelike.”

“Fighting for my fake patient not to bleed to death today was not what I was expecting for our first lab.”

“Told you he’d throw us into chaos. Are you any good at this stuff?” Zeke asks as he bridal carries our silicone friend back to our table.

“I wouldn’t say I’m good,” I admit. “But I’ve spent most of my study hours studying combat medicine, so I understand it in theory. I usually pick up on hands-on stuff fast, but if we have to measure anything precisely, please—for the love of the gods—take charge.”

“Okay, so not the baking type. Got it.”

“Oh, definitely not.” I wave a hand. “Everything I‘ve ever tried to bake has either burned horribly or come out as a weird, sludgy mess that even Droopy would turn his nose up at.”