Chapter 45 #2
Conrad stays behind me and I feel his bandage press at the very bottom of my back as he starts winding it around. I do my best to stare straight ahead at the wall, pretending that I’m not thoroughly embarrassed.
“May I?” Varrik murmurs, gesturing to my hair.
I slowly nod.
He steps closer and gently holds my hair and veil up while Conrad continues to roll his bandage, passing over my belly button and then my lower spine. When the fabric comes back around and he grazes the side of my breast, I stiffen.
“I’ll do it,” Varrik growls out.
Behind me, I hear Conrad sigh. “Damn Latchers,” he mutters.
Varrik takes hold of the roll but then waits for my assent.
I nod, my throat too tight to respond, my heartbeat pounding.
I take hold of my hair while he pulls the bandage over the bottom of my breasts, passing it around my back, and then around the front again, his eyes never leaving mine.
I suck in a breath when he pulls the fabric taut against my nipples, and I see his throat move as he swallows thickly.
With another circle around, he finishes wrapping me, and Conrad takes back the roll. I feel him tuck the end just between my shoulder blades.
“There. Now I’ll be placing my fingers over the fabric, but I’ll be gentle, and the bandages will become cold when my magic fuses with it. Ready?”
“Yes.”
He wastes no time, and I feel him dragging his touch over the delicate scabs, starting from the very bottom. Varrik watches me the entire time, tracking every wince, every gulp.
As Conrad’s fingertips graze over my back, he leaves behind a sudden spike of cold that makes me flinch. Varrik’s brow furrows as I start to tremble slightly, my skin shocked with ice and pebbling all over.
“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. “We can stop if you need to.”
I shake my head. “No, I want to do this.”
When Conrad reaches a particularly bad wound at the middle of my spine, the icy sensation seems to slice in, making me clench my teeth. “Fates, you weren’t kidding about the cold.”
“What can I say? I’m very good at making one’s toes curl with delicious shivers,” he replies cheekily.
“Conrad, don’t flirt with my Latch.”
He tuts, thumb moving to another spot. “Why? She likes it.”
Varrik looks at me with a scowl on his face, but I grumble, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just standing here.”
“Yeah, don’t look at her like that,” Conrad says.
I jump when he presses over a spot right at my side, near the edge of my breast.
“Can you hurry up?” Varrik snaps.
I can hear the smile in Conrad’s voice. “Touchy, touchy, Piper.”
I may be freezing, but I think steam might be coming out of Varrik’s ears.
One final swipe, and then Conrad pulls away. “There,” he says. “You should be healed. The cold will pass. We can unravel you.”
“Thank you,” I say, already feeling the iciness ebbing.
“Here, let me,” Varrik says, and he takes the bandage and starts removing it.
“You will have scars,” Conrad cautions. “I can’t undo what was done. Can only help speed the recovery.”
“I don’t mind scars.”
When Varrik finishes unwrapping me, I wait while they’re both at my back. I bite nervously on my bottom lip. “How does it look?”
“It looks perfect,” Varrik murmurs. “All healed.”
“More importantly, how does it feel?” Conrad asks me.
I reach back and graze my fingertips over my wounds—where the wounds used to be. Now, it’s as Varrik said. Healed and smooth, with new bumps and soft stretches of skin.
Tears spring to my eyes. “It feels amazing. Thank you again.” It’s incredible to suddenly have no ache, no itch, no throbbing pain. I’d gotten so used to it, my body constantly weighed down and drained, and now it’s just . . . gone.
I marvel at it as I feed my arms back into my sleeves and pull up my dress. When I finish retying my bodice, the chill has already dissipated from my skin.
I look up, emotion still swimming in my eyes. “Thank you too,” I say quietly to Varrik.
His expression warms. “You’re welcome.”
“Now, I know your mood is fouler than usual, so where is it?” Conrad asks, rounding on him. “And don’t pretend otherwise. I can smell it.”
I frown in confusion, but Varrik sighs. “Who told you?”
“Fridrich.”
“Should’ve known,” Varrik grumbles. “Frid has a big mouth.”
“Hurry up, I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol as I’d like to consume before the night ends, so I don’t have time for you to deny my help for the sake of your robust prowess.”
Varrik grudgingly lifts his clothing to reveal the spot on his torso where the serpill bit him. Conrad reaches forward without warning and yanks his bandage away, making Varrik hiss. “Easy—”
I wince, but Conrad snorts before smacking his own bandage over the puncture marks, covering the red, inflamed skin.
Varrik’s stomach jumps, his expression murderous. “I will kill you.”
Conrad doesn’t even blink at the threat as he stretches the bandage around his abdomen. “No, you won’t. You’d miss me far too much. I’m your most amusing ally.”
“The most delusional,” Varrik mutters.
“That too.”
I smile, shaking my head at the two of them. It’s strange to see this side of Varrik. Where he’s not a Core or a thief or even a Govern, but simply . . . a friend.