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When Maela saunters into the room at noon, she practically chokes on her cigarette to find me done. ‘I guess I didn’t give you enough thread,’ she says in a low voice. ‘You look like you got bored.’
‘Maybe I’m as talented as you don’t want me to be,’ I counter, keeping my eyes level with hers and ignoring the woozy shakiness spreading through my body. If she thought her diversion would sidetrack me, she was mistaken. ‘Will someone be coming to check my work?’
Maela’s eyes narrow, but she sp
eaks in a normal voice. ‘Of course. Later.’
‘Let me know what they think,’ I say as arrogantly as I can, while bleeding profusely. My terse new escort takes me back to my quarters, and I try not to drip blood on the high tower’s expensive rugs.
There’s no one waiting in my room. Not even Enora, who I fully expected to descend on me as soon as I entered. So I let myself cry, my tears washing down along the blood soaking my skirt. I can’t bring myself to examine my hands, and a search of my cavernous bathroom yields no medical supplies. I finally call on the companel to ask for bandages and a doctor. Neither request is denied.
An eternity later someone raps at my door. I don’t know who it could be. No one knocks here. The maid, kitchen staff, my aestheticians – all of them enter and exit at their convenience. So for the first time I discover my door has a peephole. Peering through the tiny circle of glass I’m greeted by a single electric-blue eye. For a moment, I freeze. It could be Erik or Jost, and I realise I’m not sure which one of them I want to see more, or if it’s even safe to let either of them in. But finally I take a deep breath and open the door.
13
Maela wouldn’t knowingly send me the one person I might be both dying to see and wanting to avoid, but it would be the evil icing on the cake to have Jost attend me. Does he know I’m being punished for kissing Erik? Or maybe he’s just been thinking about me, too. The idea that he might want to see me sends my pulse racing so fast that my mutilated fingers throb. Now might not be the time to worry about this. He’s seen me looking worse, so I instruct him to come in, anyway. Jost’s head is turned away from the open door.
I clear my throat to get his attention. ‘I’m not naked, you know.’
‘I’ll try to be less polite in the future,’ he says.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask as I gingerly wrap a clean towel around my bleeding hands.
‘You sent for medical help.’ He holds up a small medic bag.
‘Exactly. They don’t have a clinic here?’ Realising my exasperation might be misinterpreted – because I’d much rather be here with him than on an exam table – I quickly add, ‘I’m glad you make house calls, but what is your job anyway?’
‘I do the dirty work, remember? I’m trained to do basic medical patching. If you aren’t dying, you get me. The clinic is reserved for other things.’ His tone implies there’s more to the story, but I can’t handle any more information right now. I make a mental note to bring this up later when I’m not bleeding profusely.
‘So your job is to clean up after me?’ I ask, tilting my head to get a better look at him. Unfortunately, the small shift makes me extremely dizzy.
Jost catches me in time. ‘Exactly.’
He helps me to the large floor cushions and takes my hands carefully. His own are warm and rough against my wrist as he inspects mine. His soft touch isn’t doing much to help me with the light-headedness, but I couldn’t care less.
‘Do I want to know what happened?’ he asks.
I shake my head. ‘Maela has taken a shine to me.’
‘What happened to a low profile?’ Jost asks, with a follow-up groan to seal his disapproval.
‘I’m tall.’
Despite his clear frustration, he smiles just a little. ‘Let’s clean these up. You know we’re going to need to wash this off,’ he says, taking my elbow and helping me to my feet. Apparently I’m not funny. But if I can’t tease Jost, I’m not sure what to do with him.
In the bathroom he turns the tap on full blast. The rushing water echoes off the marble. ‘There,’ he says, and I give him a quizzical look, but he just takes my hands. Instead of pushing them under the rushing tap, he cups some water in his left hand and pours it over my wounds, tenderly wiping away the blood. I’m used to people doing things for me by now – my hair and cosmetics, even dressing me – but Jost caring for me reminds me of my mother watching over me when I was ill. The ache spreading in my chest is anything but homesickness though.
Opening the pouch he brought, he takes out a small pot of salve. ‘This is going to sting.’
‘I’ve managed worse.’ But as he applies it to the open cuts, I regret my bravado. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from yelping.
‘How are you doing?’ he asks kindly.
‘I’ve been better,’ I admit, sucking in a long breath to distract myself. ‘So the Guild has you healing Spinsters in addition to your valet duties? Exactly why are you here?’
He leans closer to me and whispers against my ear, ‘Did you think we could talk in your room? I don’t need the Guild to know why I’m here.’
‘I guess I didn’t expect . . .’ My mind no longer forms full thoughts as his breath hits my neck.
