Awakening Earth and Fire: Earth and Fire Trilogy Book 1

by Jacqueline Edie

  “I just wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he finally said, and I realized it was the first time I’d heard his voice. Though I’d seen him on countless occasions, I’d never heard him speak. It was deep, but had a warm quality to it, one I hadn’t expected to hear.

  I just stared. What could he possibly want to talk about? His brow arched, blue eyes carefully assessing as he picked up on my hesitation, then added, “I won’t move from this chair, I promise.”

  “Fine, what is it?” I muttered. I felt just the tiniest bit better since he was now seated and I was still standing. For some odd reason it made me feel more in control.

  I watched warily as Coal’s hands clenched and unclenched. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, as if trying to determine the best thing to say first. Apparently deciding, he leveled his gaze with mine, his blue eyes seeming to pierce right through me again. Taking an unsteady breath, I moved my gaze downward and waited for him to speak.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He paused a moment, but when I didn’t respond, continued. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Sage. Honestly, I didn’t. But there wasn’t a choice. The names were drawn, the opponents chosen. We had to fight. I tried to stop, though and...” his voice trailed off as he realized what he’d revealed.

  I raised my eyes at that and stared at him for a change, surprised to see him actually flinch, his hand rubbing against the chain at his neck.

  “You tried to stop--to not hurt me?”

  His eyes shifted away, staring out my window, clearly uneasy now.

  “I know you pulled back when your sword hit me here.” His eyes traveled back to me as I pointed to the cut on my face and he flinched again. “And I know that is why you did this.” I moved my finger down to the bandage on my forearm and watched as his eyes followed. “I saw River’s expression. I heard the murmurs in the crowd. You stopped yourself from really injuring me.” His eyes stayed focused on my bandaged arm, at the muslin cloth now stained crimson. “Well, my face at any rate,” I amended.

  His jaw clenched but he remained silent.

  “Well?”

  A hesitation and then, “Yes”.

  “Why?”

  “I already told you.” When I frowned, he muttered, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  That made me pause and I folded my arms protectively against my chest, then regretted that decision instantly, grimacing as the cut in my arm burned worse than ever from the light pressure. Coal narrowed his brows, obviously noticing, but remained silent.

  I cleared my throat. “It doesn’t change things, though. I understand the reason you did it. I know that it would have been worse for us not to fight. But I can’t pretend that having you in my room right now, even sitting over there, isn’t making me nervous.”

  Another flash of pain in those dark blue eyes and a surprising wave of guilt shot through me at the sight of it. Tearing my gaze from his, I looked down, my eyes catching a glance at my bare arms and legs and suddenly I grew self-conscious. I hadn’t washed yet and crusty lines of congealed blood ran all over my body. Some bruises were just beginning to show where his shield had hit me. And I still had to deal with my damaged arm. The thought of it had a lump building in my throat and my eyes began to fill again.

  I turned around to face the wall so he wouldn’t see. “So if that’s it, then could you please go. Because I probably should clean up these cuts,” my voice hitching on those last words. I waited to hear his footsteps as he moved to leave, but they didn’t come.

  “That wasn’t the only reason I came here. I brought this as well.”

  Frowning, I twisted back around, only now noticing the small black leather bag clutched between his hands.

  Curiosity got the better of me. “What is that?”

  “Something to help heal your injuries.”

  My mouth dropped open in surprise. “What is it? Where did you get it?”

  He answered without looking up, instead reaching into the black bag. “The knowledge of making it has been passed down in my family for generations.”

  Several moments passed but didn’t elaborate.

  “You realize you didn’t answer my questions, don’t you?”

  One side of his mouth twitched at my response, but he remained silent.

  I watched as he pulled out a bag of herbs, two small bowls, and a capped bottle of brown liquid from the leather pouch. Rising, he made his way into the bathroom that connected to my bedroom, his steps slow as if fearful of frightening me again. He returned with a towel and one of the small bowls, now filled with warm soapy water, then moved towards my bed and looked over expectantly.

  I remained where I was, staring at him.

  “I promise, I won’t hurt you,” he added when I still didn’t move.

  I supposed I didn’t really have much to lose. I had no idea what I was going to do with these injuries anyway. I certainly didn’t have any type of healing herbs. And I was truly dreading unwrapping my forearm to see what damage was underneath that cloth bandage.

  Slowly I moved over to the wooden chair he’d just vacated, taking a seat in front of him. For a second that rush of fear ran through me again as he towered over me. But a moment later he lowered himself onto the edge of my bed. He scanned my face and body, assessing my injuries. At least, I hoped that was all he was assessing.

  Slowly, hesitantly, he picked up my right arm in his hands, turning it to see the entire circumference. He did the same to my right leg and then my left. It was if he was purposely avoiding the worst injury. Though his large hands were rough with calluses, his touch was gentle.

  And that wasn’t the only thing I noticed. This was the first time I’d been so close to him, aside from our sword fight, and at that time I hadn’t paid much attention to anything besides where his blade had been swinging. Now I started noticing things I hadn’t before. Like how the leather bands encircling both of his wrists appeared handmade. How captivating his cobalt blue eyes really were, darkening now as his brows creased in concentration. And how the metal chain hanging around his neck that he’d been rubbing earlier had a carving attached to it. I hadn’t seen it before; he must always tuck it inside his shirt. Even now, from this close proximity, I couldn’t make out what it was.

  I watched his eyes, the expression in them unclear as they continued to quietly sweep over me. Finally, he lifted his gaze to my face and studied the cut on my cheek. A rough thumb reached out towards me, and I flinched involuntarily as it came closer. He stopped in midair. “Sorry.”

  I shook my head briefly, then taking a breath, quietly murmured, “It’s okay.”

  He reached out again, more hesitantly this time, and placed his hand lightly on the side of my face, turning my head slightly so he could view the marred skin there better.

  “It’s very shallow,” he said, a hint of relief coloring his tone, then reached over to grab the towel and plunged it into the warm, soapy water. Carefully, meticulously, he touched the towel to my cheek, gently dabbing in there, carefully cleaning the cut on my face first, then the ones on my right arm, and legs. All except my left forearm.

  As he worked, a sudden thought entered my mind. I wasn’t the only victim in our battle.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I spoke up, breaking the silence.

  His hand stilled as he gazed up at me, eyes questioning.

  “For what?”

  I met his eyes directly. “For injuring you with my sword. I wasn’t the only one hurt today. Are you all right?”

  An expression of shock swept across his face.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” he said after a moment, then went back to cleaning out my cuts.

  I frowned. “Why did you look so surprised just now?”

  He shook his head, brow furrowing, as if contemplating how to respond. Finally, he murmured quietly, “I wouldn’t have expected you to regret any of your actions today.”

  I remained silent, not knowing what to make of that comment.

  Once he finished, he too
k the other small wooden bowl and poured a tablespoonful of the powdered green herbs into it. He then added a few drops of the brown liquid and using a small pestle, ground it together, forming a murky brown paste.

  “What is that?” I asked, wary of this substance that I assumed would soon be rubbed into my wounds.

  “The herbs were gathered and dried by my mother,” he replied. “I don’t know exactly what plants they’re derived from, but their healing abilities are unlike anything else. They also help prevent infection. The liquid has an anesthetic property to it that helps relieve pain.”

  My mind continued to spin. “How are you allowed to have this here? I wasn’t even able to get any treatment at the medical ward. How are you able to have your own personal stock of healing herbs?"

  I knew the answer to that question from the look on his face alone. He wasn’t.

  And that meant he was taking a huge risk doing this for me.

  “Oh,” I murmured softly and went back to watching him stir the mixture, which had now taken on the delightful appearance of mud. He scooped a small amount up onto the edge of his thumb, then looked at me again, grimacing slightly.

  “About my promise from earlier. About not hurting you.”

  “Yes…”

  “This will burn when it goes on at first. I know…from personal experience. But the pain disappears in a few seconds, as soon as the anesthetic starts to take effect.”

  He waited for me to give my consent before placing it on my cheek. I took a deep breath, then gave him a quick nod. As soon as the paste touched upon the injured skin, a burning sensation rocketed through me. Groaning, I clutched the edge of the chair, squeezing my eyes shut. But just as quickly as the pain came, it vanished.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked back at Coal. He was staring at me again. I wished I could read his thoughts. Because his facial expressions told me absolutely nothing.

  He reached back down into his leather pouch and withdrew several small white bandages, quickly placing them over the cut on my cheek.

  “That should hold it closed well enough to heal without any permanent scarring,” he remarked.

  I didn’t know what he was thinking, but the idea that a wound like this could heal without any sign of a scar was ridiculous in my mind.

  “You don’t have other large cuts that I didn’t see, do you? Stomach, back, anywhere else?”

  “No, just this one,” I answered quietly and gazed again at my wrapped forearm.

  “Alright,” he replied slowly, and for the first time I noticed a nervous sheen on his forehead.

  Reaching over, he untied the backing of the makeshift bandage and slowly began to unwind the layers of material. They grew darker and darker as he got closer to my skin, clearly having been saturated by the heavy flow of blood. A bubble of fear grew inside my chest and I could feel my heart begin to race. I didn’t want to see what was under those bandages. And neither did Coal, based on the amount of time he was taking to unwrap them.

  I wanted to look away but forced my eyes to remain on my arm. Only several layers to go. The bandage wound around my arm once, twice, three more times until it finally slipped off. And as soon as I saw what lay underneath, that bubble of fear rose into my throat, and swallowing became very difficult.

  There was an ugly, jagged, five-inch long slice across my arm. It was deep and horrible and with the bandages now removed, began to slowly ooze again. My eyes filled with tears and I blinked rapidly, desperately hoping they wouldn’t come flooding out.

  But as soon as Coal pressed the soapy washcloth to it and the pain hit me, they flooded out. The now bloody water running over my skin and forming a small puddle on the wooden floor didn’t help things. I looked away from my mutilated arm, willing the tears running down my cheeks to stop, but it didn’t work.

  The cloth stopped moving and I felt Coal’s gaze on me. But I couldn’t meet his eyes. I wanted to tell him to just get it over with, but I couldn’t speak. I wished I hadn’t done this in front of him. I hardly knew him. I was still nervous around him, and now embarrassed to be crying in front of him. What was wrong with me?

  Gritting my teeth, I angrily wiped the tears away until they finally stopped falling a moment later. But I wasn’t going to look back at my arm until it was safe to do so.

  We sat there for several moments in silence. I didn’t speak or look at him. I would crumple again if I did. Eventually I heard the splash of the towel in the water, then felt the raw pain as he continued to move it against my arm, cleaning out the wound. After several more minutes he stopped and picked up the small bowl filled with paste again.

  A shudder ran through me. The pain would be so much worse this time, the cut was so much larger. I clenched my teeth in preparation.

  “Ready?’’ he asked, his voice rough. I supposed it couldn’t be easy for him to do this, knowing he was causing me even more pain. I’m sure my tears hadn’t helped, either.

  I nodded wordlessly, then squeezed my eyes shut.

  A second later, an indescribable pain shot through my arm. It was as if an electric current had been shoved deep inside the wound. And though I clenched my teeth together tightly, I couldn’t prevent a moan from escaping my lips.

  “Hold tight, just another bit,” he said hurriedly.

  The pain exploded further down my arm, but the area he’d already applied paste to was now becoming numb. Within another few seconds, the entire area was pain fee, as if there’d never been a wound there in the first place. It was incredible.

  It was safe to look back now.

  Brown paste covered the sliced skin and the trails of crusted blood previously running down my arm were now gone, washed away, the entire area appearing far less gruesome. Coal pulled out more of the small white bandages and this time I watched as he stretched them tightly across the wound, spacing them evenly. The small strips held the edges of torn skin together so tautly, I realized they were like makeshift stitches. When he finished placing them, he reached into that black bag one last time, pulling out a handful of gauze.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Just to keep it dry.” He paused. “And to hide the paste and bandages. Don’t let anyone see them, okay? Just let them think the only thing covering the cut is the gauze.”

  “Okay,” I agreed as he taped the ends of the gauze into place.

  “So…,” he began, picking up another piece and folding it in half. I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t meet my gaze.

  “Are you really all right?” he finally asked.

  I thought about it for a moment before replying. “I will be. Soon.”

  He seemed to contemplate this as he finished shaping the square bandage, then looked back at me.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, nodding to himself, then finished taping the last piece of gauze to my cheek.

  “Well, that should do it. Just leave the gauze in place for the next two days and don’t get the areas wet. After that you can take it off and remove the white bandages on your cheek. It should be almost done healing at that point. Your arm will take longer of course, but not by much.”

  He picked up the bowl of soapy water, that was now more dark pink than anything else, and carried it into the bathroom. The noise of running water echoed back to me cleaned and repacked his supplies.

  While he was in there, I moved back to the mirror and gazed at my reflection, surprised to see how much better I now looked. Other than the two bandages, there was no visible sign of injury. The remaining nicks had been so tiny that once the dried blood was washed away, they were virtually unnoticeable.

  Suddenly I became aware of the silence and the sensation of his eyes on me once again. I twisted to find Coal standing there, one hand clutching the chain around his neck again, a wary look in his eyes as he stared. He blinked and it was gone, creases of confusion smoothing away.

  I met his gaze, relaxing now that it was all over. And realized how grateful he’d done this for me. Trusted someone he didn’t e
ven know.

  “Thank you,” I said softly.

  Pursing his lips slightly, he gave me a quick nod, then moved towards the door, but paused with his hand on the knob.

  “Please just make sure not to let anyone know I have these supplies, or that you used them, okay?”

  “Of course, I won’t say anything,” I replied, staring at his back.

  The knob twisted in his hand, but he stopped again.

  “One last thing,” he said, back still facing me. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I hope one day you can forgive me for this.”

  He left then, suddenly gone with those departing words.

  They circled inside my head. The crazy thing was, I already had.

  Chapter 20

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!”

  Ugh. I looked around blearily, rudely awakened. I’d ended up staying in my room for the rest of the night rather than hanging out in the library or the lounges, not relishing the idea of having to deal with anyone’s looks or questions, then went to bed early.

  But now it was morning, early morning I might add, and someone was knocking incessantly on my door. Sighing heavily, I threw off the covers and staggered over to the door.

  Aurora stood outside, hands on her hips.

  “So, is there something you want to tell me?” she asked innocently, but a sly grin sidled along her face.

  “No,” I snapped, exhausted. “Do you know what time it is?”

  She ignored me. “You sure about that?”

  “Aurora, what are you talking about?” I asked in exasperation, even more confused now and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the lingering entrapments of sleep.

  “Well, I was walking down the hall yesterday, after dinner, heading back to my room. And I saw someone coming out of yours.” She paused for emphasis.

  Instantly I felt my cheeks heat up, eyes going wide. Crap. She’d seen him leave. Had anyone else?

  When I didn’t reply right away, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, tapping her foot. “Listen, I have been waiting really patiently to hear about what happened. You didn’t come to dinner last night, so I couldn’t ask you then. And I didn’t bother you afterwards. So, if you don’t tell me what that guy from Fire Society was doing in here, I’m going to explode!”