“Nice,” he said without looking.
A knock at the door sent Ghedi bolting toward distraction. He admitted our surprised visitor with more enthusiasm than Henri warranted, ushering him inside and leaving the door propped open.
My physician sidestepped a manic Ghedi. “How are you?”
“Tense,” Ghedi answered. “Is there anything to do down here?”
Henri peeled the covers away from my leg. “I meant your sister.”
“Oh. Right.” Ghedi still wasn’t listening. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Henri frowned at the distraction. “Would you mind waiting outside?”
“Zuri?” Ghedi eyed the hallway and licked his lips.
“Go on.” He barely waited for the words to leave my mouth before darting over the threshold.
“You’re drinking tea.” Henri noticed the cup was empty and set it aside. “How is the pain?”
I wiggled my toes at him. “No pain here.”
“Let’s not overdo things.” He covered them with his palm. “Remember, you’re still mending. No matter how good you feel, a single wrong move will undo what little healing you’ve accomplished.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I said solemnly.
He ran his hands slowly up my leg, well, up the sides of the cast. It still gave me tingles.
It also smudged lines I was unsure I should cross. Even mercenaries kept a few rules.
Allowing an employer to make you tingle… That broke number one.
“I don’t feel any damp spots,” he said. “I think you have sufficiently dried out.”
His hands smoothed lower, past my ankle, under the slit where my toes protruded.
An ear-piercing squeal sent him stumbling from the bed.
“Sorry.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I should have said. I’m ticklish.”
“I usually ask.” He ventured a step closer. “But I touched them earlier and you seemed fine.”
“Toes are different than the bottoms of feet.”
“Specialized nerve endings,” he agreed.
“If you say so.” All I knew was it usually ended badly for the person doing the tickling.
“I applied starched strips directly onto your skin.” He remained cautious. “The gap between the cast and your leg means the swelling is continuing to go down. That’s a good thing. It means as long as you stay in bed and keep your leg elevated, we can avoid removing this cast to apply a fresh one.”
“I am in favor of that.” Its application had been simple. Its removal was what concerned me. My previous breaks had been splinted and left to heal on their own. Wearing this hard cast was…bizarre.
He indicated my shoulder. “May I?”
“I don’t see why not.” I allowed him to peel aside my gown. “Can I have a look?” I wondered how much pain had affected my perception of the wound.
“Let me clean it first.” He crossed the room to a cupboard and brought out a frosted glass bottle and a puff of some fibrous material. He set them down to lift a delicate mosaic pitcher. “That’s odd.”
“Oh?” I glanced up. “What’s that?”
“This pitcher.” He turned it in his hands. “It belongs on my desk, in the laboratory.”
“Someone must have moved it by accident.” My brothers’ manners were not the best. If I asked for a drink, and Ghedi found a full pitcher of water, I wouldn’t put it past him to carry it to my room.
“I suppose so.” He set the pitcher down gently and gathered his supplies. “This will sting.”
Once he saturated the puff with the contents of the bottle, he swiped the frigid swab over a patch of skin several inches below my collarbone and an almost equal distance from the outside of my arm.
I hissed when he pressed.
His force lessened. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“Don’t stop.” I ground my jaw. “I can handle it.”
His hand hovered over the wound. “That’s good enough.”
I heard the lie in his voice but was too grateful to confront him. “Can I look now?”
“Go ahead.” He returned to the cupboard. “I’ll get the ointment and bandages while you do.”
Bracing for the worst, I glanced down. “Huh. I thought it would be larger.”
If I made a circle with my thumb and finger, it would just cover the area of puckered skin. Rows of neat knots kept the injury closed, and the shimmery white strands left no doubt they were Henri’s silk.
“Don’t poke at it.” He caught the hand I hadn’t realized I’d lifted. “You’ll irritate the skin.”
“Is it sanitary to use silk for sutures?” I wondered aloud.
“The silk is sent through a purification process.” He released me. “I didn’t sit there spinning and stitching if that’s what concerns you. Though I have no reason to think it would be unclean if I had.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone other than my brothers. I forget I should guard my tongue.” I lifted my arm and felt the taut pull of sewn flesh. “Do you think it will scar that way?” Over my shoulder I spotted the second set of stitches. “Like a star?”
“If it does, I have balms that will minimize the appearance of scar tissue.”
“That bad, huh?” I gave a tentative shrug before his glare reminded me the reason I felt this well was because of the tea I’d been drinking earlier. If not for that, I might still be curled up whimpering.
“Once the stitches come out,” he said, reclaiming his seat, “then we’ll worry about the scarring.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” I had plenty more scars where those came from. “I was curious. That’s all.”
“You’re the first female who has ever said that to me.” He unscrewed a tin with a blue fir bough stamped on its lid and scooped up a glob of gray-green ointment with two fingers. The smell burned my nose when his hand passed under my chin. “Turn your head or this could end up in your mouth.”
I did as he asked, letting him slather goop on me. Like a good patient, I even cooperated while he wound fresh gauze beneath my arm to rebind my shoulder so its weight was supported in a sling.
When all was said and done, he sat back with a pensive expression on his face.
“What is it?” I slid my gown into place.
“I’ve been hesitant to ask about Hishima.” His fingers drummed his armrest. “Or your ward.”
I flipped the cover over my legs. “But?”
“I can’t begin testing her without some basic information. I tried asking your brothers. With the exception of Ghedi, they won’t speak to me.” He waited to see if I would choose to enlighten him as to the reason why they kept silent. I didn’t. It wasn’t my place. “I will assume it’s nothing personal.”
“It’s personal all right, but on our side. Not yours.” I tacked on, “They meant no offense.”
“Then none will be taken.” He reached for his coin. “Do you feel up to talking for a bit?”
“Sure. I’ll even go first.”
He set his coin weaving through his fingers. “Fair enough.”
“Paladin Vaughn sent a letter.” That much I knew for certain. “I assume you intercepted it.”
His expression remained neutral. “If such a letter existed, I couldn’t discuss it with you.”
“Ah.” I winked. “So there was a letter and you do have it.”
He stared, unblinking, giving me no clue whether I had hit my mark.
I leaned closer. “How can we understand both sides of the story if you’re not sharing yours?”
He met me halfway. “Sharing requires a certain level of trust.”
“You don’t trust me.” I could accept that. Trust was earned.
“In my experience, gold buys cooperation, not loyalty.” He held up his coin for me to see. “This was in my father’s pocket when he died. It’s a reminder of the price of loyalty and the cost of greed.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
His tight nod made my heart ache for him. “Where should I start?”
“At the beginning would be nice.” He sat there, eyes downcast, rubbing his coin.
I began the monotonous recitation. “In the time after the divide of the Above and the Below—”
“Not that far back.” His fraction of a smile returned, and I was pleased to have put it there. “As fascinating as the story of creation is, I’m more interested in your story. How you came to work for Hishima, how you ended up in Cathis, your ward’s origins. Mana’s letter offered little information.”
Mana again. His emphasis on her correspondence made me question whether Vaughn had sent a letter, or if he had relegated the task to the person he trusted most and, in turn, she confided in Henri.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that implied closeness. I bet Vaughn wasn’t thrilled with it either.
“Mercenaries are simple folk. We needed work, and Hishima was hiring. He offered a fair price to accomplish a task for him, and we accepted.” We had accepted too much at face value for that job. “He was the Segestriidae paladin, and I had always wanted to see the crystal city. But all the rest…”
Bracing on his knees, he steepled his fingers. “It was more than you bargained for.”
“Yes.” The bitter taste of the past soured my mouth.
Nodding, he tapped his hands against his lips. “What happened after you arrived in Titania?”
I cleared my throat. “We discovered Hishima hadn’t been entirely honest about the reasons why he wanted us specifically. We’re Deinopidae—hunters. It’s in our blood. What Hishima wanted us to track wasn’t migrating game, but his betrothed. Her name is Kaidi, and Hishima said he feared for her safety. She had run away. He gave us the usual reasons—cold feet, his mother’s disapproval of the match. He swore he only wanted her found so they could be reunited, and I ate the lies he fed me.”
“What about your contract?” He frowned. “Surely you signed one.”
I scoffed. “It was purposely vague. I see that now. At the time, I trusted his word too easily. He flashed his gold and used his pretty words and his jilted love story to secure my loyalty to his cause.”
“What happened?”
“We spent months scouring every southland city for a ghost, that’s what. Everywhere we went, we heard the same story. Headless corpses were being found outside cities infected with plague. The thing was—no one was in a hurry to help us find the culprit. The person was desecrating bodies, yeah, but it’s not the same as killing them.” Gods what an eerie pursuit. “In the end, we didn’t find Kaidi.”
“Vaughn did,” Henri surmised.
“Did he tell you that?” I chortled. “Not quite. His head guardsman did. Turned out Kaidi was the one who had been chopping up bodies. She pulled that trick on Mimetidae land, and Murdoch caught her at it. Do you know him? No? He’s an all right sort. Quiet. He has a clean sword arm, though.”
“I don’t understand.” Henri drummed his fingers on his knee. “Why bother with the dead?”
I whistled long and slow. “Do you know what you’ve got in that cage of yours?”
He paused before saying, “Mana believes your ward is the key to understanding the plague.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Then pick another question.”
Fine, we would play it his way. “Do the terms riser or harbinger mean anything to you?”
He held my gaze without blinking. “Should they?”
The words were arranged to form a question, but they lacked the proper inflection.
No curious glint lit his eyes. No eager coin flowed over his knuckles.
Henri knew more than he was telling.
“Henri.” Ghedi skidded to a halt outside the door. “You’re needed in the laboratory. Something got our ward stirred up. She’s climbing her cage. Kaleb gave me five minutes before he sedates her.”
“Sedates her?” Henri turned. “With what?”
Ghedi shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say the blunt end of his glaive.”
Henri leapt to his feet. “We’ll continue this discussion later, Zuri.”
“Tomorrow,” Ghedi corrected. “It’s past time for proper visiting hours.”
For a moment, I thought Henri might argue. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
I wiggled my fingers at him. “I’ll be here.”
His hasty retreat made me laugh.
“Were you just…” Ghedi glanced from me to the now-empty hall, “…flirting with him?”
“Flirt in front of one of my overprotective brothers?” I had better sense. “Not likely.”
His hands clenched at his sides. “It looked like flirting.”
“It looked like good manners.” I shifted onto my side. “No wonder you were confused.”
Chapter Four
Straining my ears, I caught the sound of Ghedi’s footsteps fading. The mission I had sent him on was simple but time-consuming since our meals were lowered down a narrow shaft built into the rear wall of the laboratory, or so he had said. I hadn’t seen it for myself. Then again, I hadn’t seen much of anything. Ghedi’s tidbit did tell me how often Henri kept his own company, which intrigued me.
In a nest this size, why isolate yourself? Why choose to be alone?
As I soaked in the blissful quiet, I began to appreciate the appeal of solitude.
“It’s now or never.” I flung aside my covers and planted my foot on the frigid floor.
My glaive was leaning in the corner. It had worked as a makeshift crutch well enough before. If I reached it, I could… Do what? Not hook it beneath my arm. The blade would cut me to shreds. Not grasp the staff with one arm in a sling or hop across the room only to fall flat on my arse in the hall.
I stood there by the bed, my burst of frantic energy draining out of the sole of my foot.
“Going somewhere?” Henri’s appearance in my doorway startled me.
My shoulders bowed. “No.”
“I passed Ghedi on my way here.” He came closer and wrapped his arm around my waist. “He mentioned you were getting restless.” He eased me gently onto the bed. “Be that as it may, you can’t be hopping around your room. Call if you need help. If you fall, you might rip your shoulder open.”
“Don’t you mean my stitches?” I let him lift my leg and prop my cast on a cushion for me.
“No.” He tapped his pointer with his thumb. “My silk won’t tear. You will.”
I shuddered. “Let’s agree to never speak of that again.”
“All right.” He sat at the foot of my bed. “What if we continue what we started yesterday?”
“Do you mean when my gown slid off my shoulder, or when your hand was on my knee?”
Chuckling, he cupped the heel of my unbound foot, drawing that leg across his lap.
I almost swallowed my tongue.
“I was thinking,” he said quietly. “We could begin our conversation where we left off.”
I was thinking his hands were gentle and warm, skilled. I even enjoyed the tidy look of them.
“Zuri?” His thumbs pressed into the underside of my foot, massaging the arch until I moaned.
“Mmmhmm.” My eyes rolled shut.
Either my feet weren’t ticklish after all or his touch was masterful enough I no longer cared.
“Our conversation?” he prompted.
I forced my eyes open. “If we must.”
“Is speaking with me so taxing?”
“It’s not you—or the topic.” I swept my hand around the room. “I’m going mad sitting here day after day with only the same four walls to stare at and Ghedi—who’s gone stir-crazy—for company.”
“You do realize putting weight on your ankle prematurely can cause permanent damage?”
“I know.” I punched the mattress. “I can’t afford to risk it. If I can’t walk, then…” I growled. No one would hire a one-legged mercenary. “I’ll think of something. I won’t die from boredom. Right?”
“Th
e northlands don’t agree with you.” He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t obvious.
“It’s so bloody cold. There’s paltry game, scrawny plants and all the water’s frozen.”
“Yes.” His lips curved. “Makes you wonder how we all survive up here, doesn’t it?”
“Simple,” I said. “You live underground and pay to get what you don’t have delivered to you.”
The delicious pressure on my arch ceased while Henri shook his head.
“It all comes back to gold.” The refrain fell from his lips with the familiarity of a prayer.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” I should have kept my mouth shut no matter how true it was.
“It’s all right.” He traced the curve of my heel. “It’s a topic I’m well-acquainted with.”
I waited for him to say more, but he lowered his head and kept his thoughts to himself.
“I see.” Here was the problem. “You’re implying that I took advantage of you.”
“Not at all.” He glanced up at me. “You saw an opportunity and you seized it.”
“At your expense.”
“I did hire your brothers, so yes.”
“You needed us.” Even he must see that. “You need us still.”
“I do,” he agreed. “All the expenses are my own fault. I should have been better prepared.”
“Then why argue the point?”
“You are the one arguing. I’m simply agreeing with you.”
“Are you so coddled you expected us to work without compensation?”
“Are you so entitled you think I ought to offer you gold simply because I have some to spare?”
A flush swept over me. Hadn’t I told my brothers exactly that?
“This is an old argument. It tires me. I will say this, and let that be the end of it.” He reached for my hand. “Your brothers are acting as interim guards, and they must be compensated. There are also your injuries, and Fynn’s, to consider. You were sent on Paladin Vaughn’s business. Because I failed to make the proper parties aware, you were both harmed. That makes me liable. I owe you both, and I will pay those debts, including your treatments.”
“I appreciate the gesture.” As much as I hated to say it, I forced out, “We’ll pay our own way.”
Breath of Winter, A Page 5