Chapter Twelve

“ S ee to the male over in the corner bed. Vicious wound, but I think you can tend to it easily enough.” Thaliya barely glances at me as she moves from bed to bed, assessing and checking the patients within. The one look she does give me reminds me not to use my newfound skills unless she’s present. We can’t have suspicions rising before we’re ready.

She’s been distant since we spoke in hushed whispers about my past. I can’t tell whether she’s hurt I didn’t take the news more graciously, or if it’s because of the upswing of injuries and ailments as of late, or she’s giving me space to process everything. Despite the way I left it between us, I can't stay away from the healer’s wing.

Perhaps it's because of this place, or perhaps it’s because she’s my first memory. One that’s been muddled over time, but small pieces remain.

Her big smile and strong hands reach toward me, light halos her long silvery hair. Her warm arms wrap around me, calming me as she whispers words I don’t understand into my hair.

She drew me out of darkness and brought me to this wide-open space full of light. Ever since then, I’ve been a permanent fixture here, always helping where I can. I’ve picked up a thing or two to where Thaliya now depends on me, even with some of her more difficult cases.

“I’ll do my best,” I say in automatic answer, recalling the many travelers who’d pass through our small cottage farm in need of a stitch or a poultice. Once or twice, I set a bone. Even though we were so out of the way, there were always plenty of passersby needing attention.

I change direction without stopping and head toward the far corner of the room where a dirty, wounded male sits with his eyes closed and his right shoulder bandaged, already seeping with blood through the layers of carefully placed bandages. As I get closer, I can smell the days of travel on him. I try not to wrinkle my nose at the overbearing scent.

“Hello there.” I pitch my voice low so as not to startle him, but his eyes remain closed. The lines around his lips and the deeper ones bunched around his eyes tell me he’s in a lot of pain. “My name is Roe; I’d like to take a look at your wound if you’ll allow it.” Unsure if he’ll answer me, I reach toward the bandage but suddenly stop as he jerks awake and grabs my left wrist. Startled, I completely freeze.

Every once in a while, the ward receives someone a little touchy or even a little drunk. I’ve learned from experience the best way to deal with those types is to remain calm and move as little and as slowly as possible.

His body stiffens then he opens his eyes. He looks from my hand, now opening and closing slowly in an attempt to twist out of his grip then back at me. It’s hard to tell in this dark corner of the ward, but recognition seems to light his eyes, which is odd because I’m certain I’ve never seen this man in my life.

He pulls me closer to him and I automatically lean in, thinking he’s about to whisper something. Fear rises and I try to twist out of his grasp. With the rest of the ward behind me, I can’t even try to catch someone’s eye for help. But instead, he inhales deeply and then suddenly releases my wrist .

“You may,” he replies as if his behavior is completely normal and nothing odd passed between us.

I turn toward the bandage table set up beside me, attempting to gather my wits and decide if I'm in any danger. My breathing slows, and I look back at the vagabond beside me. Although quite large, incredibly dirty, and a little strange, he doesn’t seem to wish me any harm.

I proceed with unwrapping his shoulder with care. The four deep slashes hint at a swipe from a large beast. Seeing it, I almost remark on my surprise he made it here in one piece, and I’m about to say so when he finds his words and I realize he’s not the token drunk warrior passing through. “I know it’s bad, but you should see the other guy.” His bright smile shines through weeks of beard growth. I’m taken aback at how out of place that smile is against his roguish exterior—a diamond in the rough.

He looks up just long enough to see me crack a smile. “Did ‘the other guy’ happen to have sharp claws and walk on all fours? What was this?” I motion to the wound, trying to place the size and shape but even all my late nights studying large volumes on animals and plants native to Everguard right besides Killian as he studied the latest battle maps from overseas, I can’t think of anything that would do this much damage with one blow. Perhaps an overly huge wolf?

Rather than answering my question, he asks, “Roe, you say? That’s an odd name. I don’t think I’ve come across a name such as that before.” His muscles flex. I catch the blood that oozes out of the undressed wound with a practiced swipe of cloth.

Still wary, I respond succinctly. “Roe is short for Rowandine.”

“Rowandine of the…” he lets his question linger.

“Of Merula, of course. Where you find yourself.” I wait a moment before continuing for that familiar dawning of recognition that I am of the royal family. But it doesn’t come, and I send a quiet “thanks” up to the stars for being able to remain anonymous today.

“Ahh, yes. But of course. Of Merula. Well, I thank you for tending to my wounds, Rowandine of Merula.” He gives a slight nod of appreciation in an almost regal way. If I hadn’t witnessed his outburst before, and he wasn’t so incredibly dirty, I would’ve decided he was a high noble of some sort.

I leave and return with a poultice I’ve made myself. It’s big enough to cover the entire wound, which is certainly one of the bigger ones I’ve seen lately. With practiced hands, I affix a fresh bandage back over the wound.

“Igh, what’s that?” He grunts and crinkles his nose at the freshly bandaged area.

“I could say the same about you.” I bite my tongue, unsure if that was too forward. “Anyway, don’t pay mind to the smell. Remove it in the morning when you change the bandage and you’ll be well on your way to mended.” I pat his shoulder gently as I complete my care instructions, enjoying the look of surprise on his face. The same look I’ve grown accustomed to throughout my healing career as I find my poultices work well and quickly, which seems to be surprising to most who find themselves in my care.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if I’ve somehow woven something from the earth into each poultice I’ve ever made. Surely that would go unnoticed by the rest of the healers, except maybe Thaliya.

“Well, Roe, I would not be so concerned with what’s beyond these walls than what’s within them,” he says by way of thanks.

Odd. But my ears perk up and I respond in kind, “I did notice on my travels into the city walls that the fields weren’t as bountiful as they’ve been in years past, and the streets were quiet. Is this how Merula has been of late?” I ask, unsure how much I should be sharing with this man, but I feel like this much is harmless.

“Oh? So you’re just passing through as well?” He looks pointedly at my gown beneath my apron with raised brows and I realize he’s probably picked up on more than just my name in these past few minutes, no matter how grimy his brown traveling leathers appear.

“Ah, yes. I arrived just the other day, after a long—” I pause, biting my lip as I search for the right word for where I’ve been. “Absence.”

“Yes,” he says, another short answer, but this time I wait patiently and am rewarded when he continues. “You’re right in your observations. A lot has changed these past few years, and certainly not for the better. Hadeon—” His gaze slants toward me, and his warm sable eyes meet mine, and starts again. “King Hadeon prefers to look at the bigger picture, and does not spend time worrying himself about trivial things.” He tilts his gaze back to me, and I try to wrest the confusion from my face.

I know from my time spent with Killian in the library, that Father spends much of his time with his High Council, which consists of him, Killian, the Head of Guard, Patton Montford, and a few of the wealthiest men in Merula’s court. Little of his time is spent with the people themselves of Merula or the surrounding lands. But even if Mother is the one hearing all the concerns of Merula’s people, would she share their struggles? And surely Father would work to rebuild what’s faltered since his arrival. Since I’ve arrived, I’ve only heard brief snippets of his conversations with Killian, but none of it sounded concerning for the people of Merula. In fact, the opposite is true .

“The king does nothing for his people?” I ask, trying to keep any inflection out of my voice that would give away I have anything to do with King Hadeon and the way he spends his time.

“He’s already left his homeland, Nefaria, in shambles while he conquered Merula. He has no need for these people any longer. There’s nothing left for him here except an old castle that’s seen better days. Soon, he’ll head north, torching anyone who opposes him. The other races stand no chance against his ruthless ways.”

“Even with what’s left of their magic?” I can’t help but think humans can triumph over magic so easily, but it’s happened before.

“And I’ll bet my last coin he’s already started making nice with the lands to either side.” I raise my eyebrows at this. He must’ve heard about the upcoming nuptials here at the castle.

He pulls a coin out of his pocket and flips it a few times before tossing it my way. My reflexes are quicker than my thoughts, thank goodness. Before I know it, the smooth coin rests in my palm.

“Good work, Rowandine, love.” Thaliya comes up behind us and helps the man out of the bed. My hand closes over the coin just before Thaliya pokes her head over my shoulder. “You’ll be right as rain before you know it.”

As he rises before me, with the help of Thaliya who’s stronger than she looks, it does not go unnoticed that he takes up half the room with his size. Under all the cloud of travel, I get a whiff of woodsmoke and cedar. “Thank you, Rowandine of Merula. No doubt I’ll be back to my whole self in no time.” He only winces a little as he flexes his muscles, trying out the work I’ve done.

I can’t help but watch as he grabs his shirt from the end of the bed and gingerly works it back over his head. The way his muscles flex and move remind me of something Gryphon said recently about a creature lost to us. Was it the wings of a dragon? Or something else he mentioned in passing?

He clears his throat and catches my eye one last time then walks toward the exit with Thaliya striding after him to keep up with his large steps. He stops only to lean over and have a brief conversation before exiting through the back door and I can’t help but be left with the thought they know each other.

I’m unsure what transpired between the two, but as I return my supplies to the front of the room, his words echo in my mind, and they sound a lot like Killian’s. The night he spoke of rebuilding Glorixia. The love for his people of Merula lost in the sparkle of a new and shining city. I look toward Thaliya, and she’s still watching the horizon long after the man’s gone.

I pat the coin in my pocket while the blatant anger that man feels for my father pulses around me, slowly dissipating the farther I get from the ward, but his words stay with me all the same. He already has Merula and will be looking north and to the surrounding lands soon. Father said my new match is coming from over the Caldertasi Sea? Are his moves really that transparent? Or is that man more than a vagabond passing through?

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