Chapter 3 #2
Nyx let out a disgruntled yowl, but remained limp as a kitten as she ferried him outside her room and dumped him in the corridor. He hissed at her, then stalked away, tail flicking in dignified annoyance.
Lea returned to her room and shut the door behind her.
“I thought you were brave in the arena, but I think picking up that cat might be the bravest act I’ve witnessed,” Kallias said.
Lea rolled her eyes, but a strange flare of warmth lit within her at his admission that he’d found her brave. She was used to impressing people, but there was something different about impressing him.
“How is your arm?”
Lea shrugged. “Fine.”
He pointed to the stool in front of her table. “Sit and let me take a look. I brought a poultice to help it heal quicker.”
Lea sat and proffered her arm. She found herself glad that she’d paid a visit to the baths that morning, so she was significantly better-smelling than she’d been yesterday. She’d been careful not to get her bandage wet, and the trip had soothed her other aches and pains.
The baths were her favorite place in the world: dark, quiet at the right times, pleasantly humid. She loved nothing more than to submerge herself in steaming water and let the heat melt away all her tension.
With delicate fingers, Kallias unwrapped the bandage and tossed it aside. A wrinkle appeared between his brows as he inspected the wound. “You ripped a stitch. What did you do?”
Lea tugged her arm away. “How do you know it didn’t come out on its own? Maybe you didn’t stitch it right.”
“My stitches were perfect,” he said with calm certainty. “You didn’t rest as I instructed you to.”
“I did rest,” she protested. Her gaze slid away from his handsome face, now grown stern.
He took hold of her hand, his grip firm. “Your knuckles are bruised. Did you…did you punch someone?” he demanded. “With your wounded arm?”
Something about the feeling of him holding her hand made her breath quicken, but she yanked her hand away. “It was only one punch. Not even that hard.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “I suppose I should expect nothing less from a gladiator,” he muttered under his breath.
“I’m afraid I don’t sit around all day being fanned and pampered like your usual patients.”
“My usual patients are members of our imperial family, so you may wish to speak of them with more respect.” He turned his attention to carefully picking out the fragments of thread from her broken stitch with tweezers.
She bit her lip against the twinges of pain, then hissed as he replaced the stitch.
“It appears to be healing well, so far,” he murmured as he tied off the thread and snipped it.
“No signs of festering.” He moistened a cloth with wine from a small flask he’d brought and dabbed at the stitched wound, wiping away the traces of honey from yesterday. Then, he opened a small clay container.
Lea wrinkled her nose at the musty herbal scent that arose from the green-brown paste within. “That’s foul.”
He ignored her and used a flat wooden tool to scoop out a clump of the mixture, then slathered it on her arm.
Lea made a noise of disgust, but she had to admit the paste had a pleasantly cooling feel. “How long is this going to take to heal, anyway?” she asked as he bound the wound in fresh bandages. “I’m due to fight again on the closing day of the games in two weeks.”
“With luck, I’ll have removed your stitches by then,” Kallias said. “But you can’t fight. The muscle will still be healing.”
Since it would be her last fight of the games, and possibly her last fight for some time, Lea was willing to take the risk. She wouldn’t lose the chance for another win. But the physician didn’t need to know that.
Kallias closed the poultice container and slid it toward her, along with a stack of clean bandages.
“I’ll return in two or three days. In the meantime, change the bandages every morning and night, and apply a fresh layer of that poultice.
If anything changes—if you have any swelling or fever—send word to the palace immediately.
And no more punching people,” he added firmly.
“I only punched one person, but fine.” Achilles had been giving her a wide berth since she knocked him on his backside yesterday, so as long as he didn’t run his mouth again, she could keep her promise.
“Good. Now, I must go. I have another patient to see, and he’s all the way over on the Aventine.”
Lea raised her eyebrows. “You have a patient on the Aventine?” It wasn’t exactly the nicest part of the city, bordering the river with a constant stench of rotting fish and refuse.
“When I was leaving here yesterday, I crossed paths with a man who’d dislocated his shoulder. I want to pay him a visit to ensure it’s healing well. I brought another poultice.”
“I hope his smells better,” Lea muttered, her nostrils still full of the cloying scent, as Kallias gathered his things and left her bedroom.
How interesting—the emperor’s personal physician stooping to treat a plebeian stranger. She would have expected a man like him to turn his nose up at the idea of expending his precious skill on anyone without an ancient bloodline.
But his treatment of Lea, though it originated at the emperor’s behest, had been thorough and clearly competent.
She could have sworn her wound hurt less since he’d applied that terrible poultice, though she’d never admit it.
He could have easily done the bare minimum of stitching her up.
He hadn’t been obligated to return today to check on her, or to promise another visit in a few days.
But he had, and despite herself, she was rather looking forward to seeing him again.