Chapter 10
Lorian
The last file closes with a satisfying whomp of paper and I put it down in my file drawer.
This outbreak needs to be gotten under control and fast. Twenty-seven cases of Pixie-Pox confirmed, with another fifteen suspected. Not the worst outbreak I've seen but significant for a town this size.
I didn't promise anything.
My pen scratches across the notepad as I jot down observations about the efficacy of Maeve's herbal treatments. The ice pops have proven remarkably effective at suppressing the uncontrollable laughter long enough for the children to eat and drink. The data supports their continued use.
I have high hopes the tonic will protect the rest of the unaffected children and bring an end to this outbreak.
Maeve.
Her name in my thoughts sends a jolt through my system even now, two days after I fled her cottage like a coward.
Two days of avoiding her, of sending Mrs. Beckham to collect updates on the school cases rather than going myself.
Two days of remembering how her lips felt against mine, how her body pressed against me with such perfect alignment it was like we were made to fit together.
Which, of course, we are. This is what it means to find a True Mate.
I shake my head, forcing my attention back to the charts.
This is precisely why I need distance. I need to get myself back in control before I can tell her she’s my True Mate.
It’s the only rational thing to do. I've spent years cultivating control over every aspect of my life, and in mere weeks, a redheaded nurse with a penchant for chaos has dismantled it all.
A soft thud from the waiting room interrupts my thoughts.
I glance at the clock again. Mrs. Beckham should have locked up upon leaving. Perhaps she forgot and someone wandered in. Or perhaps it's another worried parent bringing in a child with new symptoms.
I rise from my chair, rolling my shoulders to release the tension built up from hours of work. My back protests with a series of small pops. As I approach my office door, something primitive and instinctive raises the fine hairs on my arms.
Something's not right.
I open my door slowly, scanning the dimly lit waiting room. The security lights cast long shadows across the pristine white walls, turning them a muted gray. At first glance, the space appears empty, the chairs neatly arranged, the children's play area tidied for tomorrow's patients.
Reminding me that I lost the battle of wills with Mrs. Beckham. Not that it matters now. Anything to keep the children waiting occupied and content. I see it now.
"Hello?" I call out, my voice echoing slightly in the empty space. "The clinic is closed for the evening."
Movement catches my eye near the reception desk. A large shadow detaches itself from the deeper darkness by the entrance, and my body tenses in automatic response.
Principal Orlin Braggstone emerges into the dim light, his bulk impressive even by troll standards. His gray-green skin looks almost reflective in this lighting, and his teeth gleam dully as he smiles.
"Evening, Dr. Reizenhart," he rumbles, his deep voice filling the small space. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Every instinct I possess screams danger, though I can't immediately identify why. Braggstone has always been overly familiar but never threatening. Yet something in his posture, in the way he's positioned himself between me and the exit, feels deliberately threatening.
Does he not know the strength of an elf? Does he not understand a fight between us is far from fair?
"Principal Braggstone," I acknowledge, keeping my voice neutral as I maintain my position by my office door. "The clinic closes at six. If you require medical attention, I suggest making an appointment for tomorrow."
He chuckles, a sound like distant thunder, and begins circling Mrs. Beckham's desk with casual interest. His thick fingers trail along its surface, inspecting the neat stacks of paperwork, the appointment book, the framed photo of Mrs. Beckham's grandchildren.
"No medical emergency," he says, picking up a pen and twirling it between his fingers. "Just a friendly visit. I’ve been meaning to congratulate you on how quickly you've become indispensable in our little community."
I remain silent, watching him. There's nothing friendly about this visit.
"You and Maeve make quite the team," he continues, setting the pen down with deliberate precision. "Very cozy, the way you two work together."
My jaw tightens involuntarily at his implication, but I keep my expression neutral.
"Maeve is very talented."
"Talented." The word rolls off his tongue with obvious disbelief. He laughs again, louder this time. "That what they call it in the High Court these days? Is that why you’re here, in this town? For some talent?"
My heart rate accelerates, and I suppress a desire to shove the troll out of my clinic and onto the pavement. I don’t like what he’s insinuating about Maeve. Not at all. I don’t even want to hear her name in his mouth.
"I don't follow," I say evenly.
"Come now, Doc." Braggstone leans against the reception desk, crossing his arms over his massive chest. "Let's not play games. I've been making some inquiries about you. You’re a fascinating guy, really."
Cold dread pools in my stomach.
"You're quite the mystery man," he continues, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
"Former High Court head surgeon, decorated officer of the Elven Army Medical Corps.
Prestigious positions, fit for an ambitious man.
Not exactly the kind of job one leaves voluntarily to set up shop in a backwater town like Saltford Bay. "
I remain silent, keeping my expression neutral even though my insides are churning with anger. How much does he know? And more importantly, why is he here telling me this?
"Very unfortunate, that business with the duke’s son."
My hands clench into fists at my sides, but I maintain my composure. This is what he came for, to see me break, to confirm his suspicions. I won't give him the satisfaction.
"Is there a point to this conversation, Principal Braggstone?" My voice remains steady despite the anger coursing through me.
He pushes himself away from the desk and takes several steps toward me.
He's using his size now, attempting to intimidate me physically.
I stand my ground, refusing to back up. The troll may be bulkier than me, but elves are fast and strong in ways an oaf like him cannot suspect. I am not scared of him.
"The point, Doc, is that certain people in this town might find your history troubling." His breath smells of onions and something sour. "The school board, for instance."
The threat is clear, but I don't flinch. "My medical credentials are impeccable."
"Your credentials aren't what concerns me." He leans in closer. "It's your character."
"I'm not hiding," I say, the words coming automatically even as I recognize the lie.
"No?" His smile widens, revealing more of those long teeth. "Then you wouldn't mind if, say, Maeve learned why you really came to Saltford Bay?"
Maeve's name in his mouth sends a surge of protective fury through me that I struggle to contain. This isn't about my professional standing in Saltford Bay. This is about her.
"Leave Maeve out of this," I say, my voice dropping lower despite my effort to maintain neutrality.
"Ah." His eyes light with triumph at my slip. "I see. Feeling a tad possessive, are you?"
I say nothing, cursing myself for the error.
"She deserves to know who she's getting involved with, don't you think?" He steps back, seemingly satisfied with whatever he's read in my expression. "A man who abandoned his post. Who left a patient to die."
"That's not what happened." The words escape before I can stop them, sharp with a defensive anger I rarely allow myself to express.
"No?" He shrugs his massive shoulders. "Maybe not. But it's what people will believe when they hear the story. Especially coming from the school principal, who's only concerned about the welfare of his students."
My mind races through possibilities, calculating risks and outcomes. If Braggstone spreads this version of events, my reputation in Saltford Bay will be irreparably damaged. Patients will leave. Parents could stop listening to my advice. Refuse to give the tonic to their children.
The outbreak could get out of hand.
That would be unacceptable. Despite what Braggstone thinks, I would never put my patients at risk. Not then, not now.
"What do you want?" I ask finally, the words tasting bitter.
“Simple.” His smile widens. He thinks he won this round. “Stay away from Maeve Callahan.”
There it is. He wants what’s mine, and he’s willing to resort to blackmail to get it, no matter the cost to the children. Something possessive and primal rises in me at the thought of him pursuing her, touching her. I suppress it ruthlessly.
"Maeve and I work together," I say stiffly. "The Pixie-Pox outbreak requires our collaboration. I can hardly refuse to see her when the children are sick."
"Work together all you want during school hours," he concedes with a dismissive wave. "But no more private visits. No more roses. No more late-night consultations at her cottage." He pronounces the word consultations with heavy innuendo.
He's been watching us. The knowledge sends an icy chill down my spine.
"And if I refuse?" The question is reckless, but I need to know exactly what I'm facing.
Braggstone steps back toward the exit, his point made.
"Then by this time next week, everyone in Saltford Bay will know exactly what kind of doctor they've welcomed into their community.
Including Maeve. No parent will trust you with the care of their child, not even in the middle of a Pixie-Pox outbreak. "
“You’re willing to endanger the children just to keep me away from Maeve?”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”
He reaches the door, pauses with his hand on the handle, and turns back to me.
"Saltford Bay doesn't need people like you, Doc. And neither does Maeve. Even if she doesn’t see it for now."
The door closes behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds final.
I stand frozen in the dimly lit waiting room and lean over the reception desk, bracing my hands on the heavy oak surface. The coolness grounds me as my mind processes what just happened.
I don’t care about Braggstone or about my reputation. I’ve made my peace with what happened a long time ago.
I close my eyes, remembering the patient I couldn't save. The whispers, the accusations that followed. The heartbroken parents left behind.
I did everything I could to save that boy. But truth rarely matters in these cases.
I accepted my fate. I accepted the disgrace and the exile to spare the duke and duchess my presence as a constant reminder of their son’s death.
But I would not endanger more lives just to keep up the lie.