Chapter 5
“Saints, you’re heavy,” Enid grumbled as she and Anelize managed to slip past the doorway of the shop, practically dragging the man between the two of them.
After what happened with the Moroi, witnessing what he had done to it, she hadn’t wanted to bring him with them.
The risk far greater than it had been before now that they knew he was a Vedran.
It had taken several arguments between her and Enid before Anelize finally conceded, if only to avoid being caught up in another ordeal that neither could defend themselves from.
Especially not if another monster showed up.
“I got him. Lock the door behind us, Enid,” Anelize said, wrapping her arm around his waist. He groaned at the applied pressure where she felt blood coating her fingers, and she hushed him. “Keep quiet.”
From here, she had a clear view of the stairs and hall beyond.
She kept watch, waiting to see if Magda was trudging about up there.
Knowing her, she was already fast asleep, oblivious to the world and willfully indifferent by either of their wellbeing.
If either of them would return alive. After their discussion, she would wager that her aunt would be glad for their demise, if only to be rid of them.
Enid quickly hurried to the door just as they heard the bellowing of Watchmen and the toll of a bell ring out through the streets. She wasted little time in shutting and locking the door.
Anelize huffed, struggling not to sink under the man’s weight as she led him farther into the shop. Blood dripped onto the floor, smearing with his heavy steps.
“Help me get him on the table,” Anelize said as they entered the back room she kept specifically for patients with dire injuries.
The room was pitch black, but she knew her way around the shop by now that she could navigate through it with her eyes closed.
It took some maneuvering and eventually they managed to help him lay on the long worktable.
“Where am I?” he asked through gritted teeth, sounding somewhat delirious as Enid hurried to light the candles on the small table beside the water basin.
Anelize pushed the cloak aside to inspect the large gash on his side practically swimming in the gathering pool of blood.
“Our father’s shop. You’ll be safe here,” Enid supplied, bringing one of the candles closer, illuminating the area around them so that Anelize could see properly before she started working.
She placed a gentle hand on Anelize’s shoulder before smiling warmly at the man.
“I’ll go ensure Magda doesn’t come downstairs.
Don’t worry, my sister is an excellent healer. The best there is.”
The man didn’t answer as Enid spun and left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Not that Anelize noticed as she tugged the black tunic up to get a better look at his injury.
She froze at what she saw beneath it. The many pale scars running along his skin surrounding the wound on his side and abdomen.
“Take your time…” he muttered, snapping her out of her inspection.
Anelize said, “The bleeding won’t stop which means I need to cauterize the wound.”
“Splendid,” came his answer as she turned to the shelves along the wall, retrieving a sharp knife from one of the drawers.
The moment she walked back to him, blade in hand, he tensed. Anelize gave him a flat, unamused look as she brought the knife over the flickering flame of the candle.
“If I planned on killing you, I wouldn’t make it so obvious.
You’re not going anywhere any time soon, so you might as well relax.
” It was evident he was ready to practically jump off the table at the slightest inclination she made of truly wanting to gut him like a fish, keeping one leg hanging over the edge of the table and propping himself up on his elbow.
“Your father…isn’t he a healer? Can’t he just do it?”
“I imagine he can’t do much from the afterlife. Though I’m sure he’d be touched that you’d rather receive his care than mine.”
The man fell silent, her words seeming to weigh down on them both. Eventually he said, “I’m sorry.”
Despite not knowing the man, there was no mistaking the genuine lament in his tone.
That alone made her pause for a moment before she forced herself to focus.
There was no time to discuss her father, nor did she wish to do so with a complete stranger.
Instead, she said, “You’ll need stitches after I clean the wound.
I can administer a tincture to help with the pain—”
“I can handle a little pain,” came his curt reply.
Anelize sighed at his words practically brimming with stubborn pride. “Very well.”
When the sizzle of the blade burning his skin filled the silence, every muscle in his body tensed so much that more blood poured from his wound.
The strain on his face, despite the way his lips pressed into a firm line, indicated he was in fact not handling the pain very well.
She worked quickly as she cauterized the wound, wiping away the remnants of blood with a clean cloth as she went.
“Are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked through gritted teeth, sweat beading along his dark brows.
“That depends,” she murmured as she positioned a needle over the flickering candle to disinfect it, then inserted the thread through the loop.
She leveled him with a stare before pushing him down onto the table with a bit more force than necessary, receiving a groan of annoyance in return.
“If you continue to condescend to me, I just might do a poor job with your stitches. Now, hold still and keep quiet. I’m sure that’s a feat in and of itself for you, but do try your best, yes? ”
“Cheeky woman. Who knew she had a sense of humor?” His amused grumble was abruptly silenced when she inserted the needle into his skin. Now that brought a smile to her lips.
Anelize had to give him credit for not screaming once.
Given how expertly he handled the Moroi, she knew it wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time he’d willingly wander the streets past sundown.
It was a probability that it was not the first time he’d been gravely injured either, if those scars were anything to go by.
The Watchmen searching for Vedrans tonight had to mean they were stirring trouble once again.
The thought that the man before her took any part in the rebellion against the king was not lost on her.
Not that it should hold a place for concern in her mind.
All she wanted was to finish with him as soon as possible and get him on his way out the door.
She’d sleep at ease knowing that she’d done her part.
Snipping the bloodied thread with a pair of shears when she was done, she quickly stood from the stool.
She turned to sort through the jars on the shelves along the counter before reaching for the ones labeled mullein, dandelion, and officinalis.
Pouring the herbs into the mortar, she crushed them until they were fine before reaching for a dark ceramic jar.
Turning around with the finished poultice, she paused when she noticed the man’s eyes were closed. His chest was barely rising and falling. His features no longer tense with pain. As if…
Placing the mortar down, she reached a hand toward his neck to feel for his pulse. Her fingers barely tugged on the collar of his tunic when a large hand captured hers in a firm grip.
She blinked, noticing he was watching her closely. His expression indiscernible, before he said, with a voice of gravel, “You’re quite daring to take advantage of an injured man, healer. If you fancy me, you have an odd way of showing it, all things considered.”
Anelize snatched her hand away from his grasp easily, taking a step back. “I was going to check your pulse to see if you hadn’t turned into a corpse while I was busy saving your life. I should have hardly shown any concern.”
His lips quirked up. “After your genteel care, I can assure you I am in pristine condition, if a little battered and bruised.” The unspoken no thanks to you was louder than his words, and she couldn’t help glance to his nose, the skin bruising.
Against her better judgment, she thought to administer a salve as a form of apology, but then she caught the gleam in his eyes and changed her mind.
He was clearly making a sport out of earning a reaction from her.
“You will be if you don’t exacerbate your stitches,” she said, pushing him down when he tried to sit up.
He released a sound that was half chuckle, half groan.
Although despite his air of nonchalance, he was clearly tired.
Calling upon his power against the Moroi having effectively drained his energy.
“See? Genteel.”
Shaking her head, she reached for the mixture she’d made and carefully slathered it over the wound, red and swollen from the amount of trauma his body had suffered.
“What is that?” he asked, eyeing the dark concoction that closely resembled the color of mud.
“A poultice. It’ll help with the inflammation and keep the infection at bay,” she murmured, diligently covering the wound before reaching for a rolled strip of muslin.
When she was done, she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Make sure to keep it clean and bandaged for the first few days. If it starts to show the slightest sign of infection…I suppose you can return. Or find someone else to heal you if you object to my methods.”
“Subject myself to your care once more? It doesn’t sound so bad.
” Mirth danced in his eyes before he settled into a comfortable position, then they trailed down, catching on her hands.
“Does it hurt?” His question made her pause before she could start cleaning the bloodied mess he’d made.
Blinking, she followed the line of his vision to her hand holding the remnants of the bandages she’d used on his wounds, the knuckles a bright red from when she’d struck him.