When I awoke, time passed in a torturous blur of agony, and when I slept, nightmares of the forest plagued my mind. Only the changing of the food trays signaled that the day had passed. I knew I needed to eat, and that I would regret it later if I didn’t, but I was too consumed by grief, pain, and regret.
I had no appetite.
I wrapped my arms around myself protectively, curling into a ball on the floor, and realized a metallic tang coated my tongue. I must have bitten my inner cheek during the incessant nightmares.
Eventually, day turned to night, and as hunger pains grew, it became easier to lose myself to that ache instead. I clutched my stomach until exhaustion consumed me again.
“Daelyn...” The voice was far away, but it pulled at my consciousness
No... I thought, tugging my knees tighter against my chest as the intrusion chased away the oblivion of sleep.
“Daelyn!” The voice was urgent as hands shook me.
The movement jarred my body, and I cried out as my hand took the opportunity to unleash a painful throb. Tears pricked the corners of my eye.
Leander cursed under his breath.
My eyes opened to find him kneeling over me, his hand inches away from shaking me again. He hesitated when our eyes met.
“Go away.” I whispered.
He ignored me. “How long has it been hurting?”
“It’s broken.” I snapped. “It’s been hurting the whole time.” I wanted to roll over, but any movement seemed to only make things worse, so I chose to glare at Leander from the ground instead.
He eyed the bandage. “It’s been three days...”
Three days... and it hurt more now than ever, like it was broken anew.
“Have you touched the splint at all?” He asked.
I let my silence speak for me.
Leander rubbed at his eyes. “You should have said something yesterday, or the day before if it was this bad.”
“So that you could do what? Bring me willow bark to chew on?” I scoffed. “There’s no point in asking for help that I’m not going to receive.”
His face contorted with irritation, bordering on anger. “You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” He ground out, before reaching out to touch the bandages.
I pulled away, and grit my teeth against another wave of pain. “Don’t touch it!” I hissed.
“It’s swollen.” He said, his tone almost patronizing. “If I loosen the wrappings, it should relieve some of the pressure, and then I can get a good look at how it’s healing.”
Another retort sat on the tip of my tongue, but he was already untying the knot. Underneath, the skin was yellow, purple, and splotchy. He took the splint out of my palm and set it down. All of me smelled unwashed, and it smelled even worse under the bandage. If I had any energy left, I would have been mortified.
“Can you move your fingers?”
They fluttered, just enough to prove that I could, but not enough to make things worse.
One hand stabilized my arm, while the other splayed itself against my palm. It was a strangely intimate pose, and I couldn’t help but stare at his overly handsome face as his eyes closed in concentration.
A warmth moved from his hand to melt into my skin, and I gasped at the heat of it. His eyes opened again, to stare in concentration at something that I couldn’t see. The warmth of his magic moved under my skin , lingering in certain places longer than others. I didn’t know what he was doing, but gradually the pain began to ease. Afraid to interrupt, I remained silent as he worked.
With a satisfied sound, Leander pulled away, and I felt his absence like a cold sting as his magic vanished.
“There.” He said, standing. “Now try not to move. I need to find new linen to wrap it with.”
I flexed my fingers. The pain was still present, but duller than it had been. “Did you... mend it?”
“No.” Leander said, moving to leave. “That’s why I’m going to rewrap it. Don’t move if you don’t have to. Your hand isn’t healed yet, and the bones can still shift and pinch something if you aren’t careful.”
I stared after him, supporting my left hand with the right. Now that the agony had dissipated, my mind finally felt clear. It was a relief, for the current moment, but I could sense a tempest of dark thoughts lingering at the edges of my mind, biding their time.
Leander made good on his word, returning within the half hour. He didn’t say anything as he knelt beside me again, setting down the new strip of fabric, as well as a bar of soap. He gently rotated my palm towards the ceiling as he continued to support my forearm. With a quick glance around the room, he reached over and pulled a water bucket over. Something that he must’ve brought when I was still sleeping.
The water was cold as he dipped the washcloth into it, and lathered it with soap. He washed away the smells that had been trapped under the bandage, and I tried not to think about how much sweat and grime from the road still clung to the rest of me. Everything had hurt too much to even consider bathing, but now that we were sitting so close together, I was overly aware of my stench.
“You don’t have to do that...” I said, self-conscious.
He leveled a golden eye on me, before turning back to his task. “I don’t expect you to be able to do everything by yourself right now. It’s okay to ask for help.” Satisfied with his efforts, Leander rinsed off the suds, and dried the skin before he placed the splint back into my palm.
I didn’t understand his concern. “Did my father command you to take care of me?”
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He ignored my question as he began applying the new bandages. “I would have helped you yesterday, but every time I came, you were sleeping. I thought it was best that you got the rest.”
“It hurt too much to do anything else.” I admitted.
Leander nodded, understanding. “The third day is usually the worst in terms of healing. That’s approximately how long it takes for your swelling to reach its peak. The swelling should start to come down tomorrow.” His mouth set back into a firm line. “I expected you to say something yesterday, to ask for something, but instead you were quiet. If I didn’t already know that your hand was broken, I wouldn’t have known at all. Why?”
“Because you work for my father. I don’t trust you.” I forced myself to meet his gaze in defiance. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I don’t understand it either. Why do you care if I’m in pain, and what did you even do to my hand if you didn’t heal it?”
His expression faltered, frustration giving way to sadness. It didn’t look like an expression that belonged on his face at all. “The most important thing to understanding Jasper LeMont is that he is cruel. I was commanded not to heal you, Daelyn.” The truth of it stung as he continued. “He’s very meticulous when he creates his commands, but that doesn’t mean that he’s thought of everything.” Leander ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he looked away. “The best I can do right now is to relieve the swelling, and improve your circulation. Things that will soothe the healing tissue, but I can’t heal you. Setting the bones back in place was the only thing he allowed, and I’d had to do it without magic.”
I frowned at him. “I didn’t meet you before the study?”
“You were unconscious when you were brought back to Hillcrest. I did it then.” His jaw clenched, as if he had more to say, but didn’t continue.
I looked away, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. “I see.” My good hand clenched at the fabric of my dress. The same one I’d worn for three days now. I blinked, and they fell. “Thank you.”
Leander turned back to me, his expression relaxing into something other than a scowl, but still not a smile.
“You’re welcome.” He picked up the soiled linens, but left the washcloth and soap. “I’ll let you get cleaned up. I’ll be back later.”
I nodded as he left, waiting until the key turned in the lock to turn away from the door.
I itched to remove the dress. Sweat and grime still clung to the fabric from days of wear, the same dress I’d put on for Trasenmar. I swallowed, reaching a hand towards the front of the bodice. I pinched the end of the ribbon between my fingers, I just needed to undo the laces... I tugged at the end and the smell of dirt filled my nostrils. I let go, my hands trembling.
It’s just a ribbon. But my heart raced anyway.
I tried again, grabbing the end of the ribbon and pulling before I could think about it. The bow came undone, and suddenly there were other hands there, tugging at the laces, trying to force the sides apart. I cried out, stumbling back into the wall.
You’re not real! My mind fought against my senses for the truth,
I looked down at the bodice, at the ends of the ribbon hanging there, and struggled to breathe. I hadn’t seen myself since their hands had... their hands were the last ones to... I looked away from the fabric. Staring up at the ceiling I could feel the tears building at the corners of my eyes.
They can’t hurt you now...
I couldn’t watch my fingers undo the laces. The stench of his breath came flooding back from my memory, too visceral, too close. I had to escape the dress. Fighting against the urge to panic, I squeezed my eyes shut and blindly pulled at the rows of ribbon until the bodice hung open. The ghostly pressure of their finger tips dug into my flesh as I fought to remove everything with one hand.
We’re gonna enjoy you.
I choked back a sob as I stepped out of the skirt with a final cry, kicking the garment into the corner. Sobs racked my body as their imagined hands continued to pull at me. The terror I’d felt in that moment felt so fresh in my mind that it was overwhelming. I wished that my hand hurt more, the pain had been a shield against the memories of the woods. I was too exposed, naked, and that knowledge was almost paralyzing.
I fought against the urge to cover myself long enough to bathe. It took considerable effort to wash the dirt from my skin. I washed as quickly as I could with the one hand I had, and did my best to avoid soaking the new linens with water. I rinsed off the soap, and didn’t bother drying myself before I threw the lid of the trunk open. I grabbed the first things I found; new undergarments, a mismatched blouse, and a pair of trousers.
I dressed as quickly as the splint would allow, and finally, when I felt the shielding weight of the fabric, the phantom fingertips began to fade. I let out a shaky breath, sending a quick prayer up to the old gods, if any of them even listened anymore.
I’d never been very religious, and very few people even remembered the names of the seven who used to walk the earth. Many of the ancient texts written about them had gone missing a long time ago. Their stories survived as myths passed down from parents to children, so that the next generation could wonder why they disappeared. An Eidolon would know, but my father’s would never tell.
I’d never given them much thought, the old gods, even with Caspian’s presence proving they had been more than mere stories. But in the last few days I’d become desperate enough to hope that they were, and that I wasn’t alone. That this might be a trial for something to come later.
On that thought, I pulled out the silver hand mirror that had made its way into the trunk, propping it against the wall.
I struggled to comb through my tangled hair, working out more knots that I’d ever known were possible to have. If I’d washed it, it may have been easier to manage, but I doubted that I’d be able to handle it well on my own. Eventually, I gave up trying to wrestle it into a braid, letting it hang limp against my back.
My reflection stared back at me from the tiny mirror, and I flinched at the image. My eyes were bloodshot, and the skin under them was puffy and bruised from all the tears I’d shed. The last time I’d seen eyes like these, they’d belonged to Alexia. But unlike Alexia, a sickly pallor haunted my skin as well. I quickly turned away, tipping the mirror forward to lie on the floor so that I didn’t have to see more.
My old dress laid in a heap, taunting me from the corner I’d kicked it in. Alexia had gone with me to get fitted for it a few years ago. It seemed fitting to wear it on the day we were going to escape...
I picked the dress up from the ground, and clutched it in my hand. Was she safe? Did the groom’s representative know that I had tried to rescue her from the path? Fresh agony ripped at my chest as I pictured the moment that Alexia’s face contorted into that bespelled shriek. I’d tried so hard... and it had always been destined to fail.
“Why didn’t you stop me...?” I didn’t know who I asked, whether it was the gods, or even Caspian. They‘d all known what I planned to do, and they had let me do it anyway.
Careful of the broken glass, I fed the dress through the window and into the sea. It felt like a burial, like a part of me had died wearing that dress, and my innocence was irrevocably lost. I didn’t know what to do aside from cry at the damage done. I had no one else to blame for my failure.
My chest heaved with renewed grief. She’d been my only friend, my most trusted person, and she’d been sold off like cattle when all her brother had to do was ask for a loan... he wouldn’t have even had to do that! If I had been aware of what was at stake, I would have given him the coin to pay for a healer—Was Leander that healer? Had my father taken away the only hope that Alexia’s mother had to survive? No... how could he have known? Besides, if Leander were a true healer, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be taken away from a patient to play prison warden with me.
Alexia... Did she know what happened to me? Did she care? She was on her way to a new life, a marriage. I bit the inside of my cheek. Of course she would care. We were friends, are friends, and I’d done it for her, hadn’t I?
Tap, tap. Leander’s knuckle rapt on the outside of the door.
“Are you decent?”
Sniffling, I wiped at my eyes and cleared my throat a few times. “Y—yes. I’m decent.”
The lock clicked open, and Leander pushed the door with one hand while the other balanced a warm plate. He eyed me, no doubt seeing the freshly swollen eyes.
I turned away, wiping at the corners again as his return forced me to face the present. “What, never seen a woman cry before?”
Leander handed me the plate. “It’s okay to be upset, Daelyn. You cared enough to try, and that’s more than most people would do.”
I set down the plate, stabbing at the dried meat with a finger. I didn’t want to be told that it was okay. I didn’t want to be compared to others, or hear about how I was different. I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be free.