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I take a second to admire his long, curly eyelashes before I get the needle and thread out.
I sterilize the needle first, and then, as quickly as I can, I sew up the wound.
When I pull away, I realize that Slyth has been clutching my wrist the entire time, and I wasn’t even aware of the pressure on my arm.
“You can let go now,” I tell him gently. My chest feels funny, as though something has burrowed its way into me and has taken over control of my heart.
“You can let go now,” I repeat. Slyth has opened his eyes and is looking at me with an expression I cannot identify, an expression that I don’t think I want to identify.
“Do you really want me to?” he asks me.
I let myself sit in the little silence that blooms around us and enjoy the feel of his hand on my wrist, but I do not answer his question.
Then, after a while, I pull away.
Having Slyth on my side, so to speak, is good. Because it means I won’t have to use any humans as distractions when I finally attempt to kill the royal family.
It has been eleven years since I fled Lodra. It has been eleven years since I lost my father. Since my father was taken away to be a slave for the royal family.
It has been eleven years since my mother started teaching me how to use my magic in earnest.
I was too young. I shouldn’t have experienced the kind of hurt I did. I shouldn’t have seen the kind of violence I did.
I might like Slyth, but I cannot let this go unpunished.
* * *
Six.
Slyth’s wounds are healing more slowly than I would like.
You’re not supposed to worry about him. You’re not supposed to care.
The problem is, though, that I do care. I have started caring about Slyth more than I’d like to admit.
And after the night we spent together, I feel like I have given a part of myself to him, in a way that I never did with the human village boys.
With the human boys, I could still protect my heart. But with Slyth, the naga I am supposed to hate, I am defenseless.
“I think you need a little more of the meqixste salve,” I murmur as I inspect his wounds for the millionth time.
“Do you really think that will help?” he asks me. I don’t miss the tinge of anxiety in his voice.
I didn’t think any naga could experience anxiety,I think to myself. I caress his face for a second before I start to slather the wound on his side, and the wounds everywhere else, with the meqixste salve.
“You’ll be fine,” I say briskly before I walk away. I didn’t miss the way his eyes widened and his face softened when I smoothed my palm across his cheek.
I have convinced myself that helping Slyth to heal is a strategic decision at this point. And while I might not completely believe it, I know that it is true.
He has connections that will help me with my plans, and I am willing to use him until he has nothing left to give me. And I know that he will feel obligated to help me after I have healed him.
I just wish things weren’t so complicated.I sigh as I start to mix up more of the salve.
Every time that I think of Slyth, I also think of my mother. And my father. They are the main reason I embarked on this journey of revenge in the first place.
And I still want revenge. But with every second that passes that I spend with Slyth, the waters of my revenge become more and more muddied.
How am I supposed to do this, when I feel all these things that I didn’t feel before?
