“You look a little nervous. Would you like a restorative tea to help calm you?”
“Hurry,” Zaarusha melded.
“No, thanks. I’d better get back to the queen,” Ezaara called. She and Adelina walked swiftly to the door.
“Adelina, aren’t you staying to help?” Simeon asked.
Adelina smiled sweetly. “I’ve been asked to help in the kitchens, but I’ll send someone right along.”
Moments later, they were running along the corridor.
“He’s losing more blood.”
“Come on, Adelina.” Ezaara rushed through her cavern to Zaarusha’s den. Adelina dumped the remedies on a table and ran after her. Climbing onto Zaarusha, Ezaara fumbled with the ropes around Roberto’s waist, untying him from the saddle. He groaned as she and Adelina lifted him down.
He was as heavy as a horse, but they managed to carry him to her bed. Blood soaked into the white quilt. Grabbing half a palm of clean herb, Ezaara threw it into a cup and thrust it at Adelina. “Fill it halfway with water and ask Zaarusha to warm it.”
Roberto’s eyes slid open. His gaze was unfocused, bleary. He gripped her arm. “Thank you … no Fleur.” He slumped back on the bed, eyelids fluttering.
Slashing his tunic open, Ezaara examined the wounds. Three claw marks, not deep enough to puncture any internal organs, but deep enough to make him bleed like a stuck goat. “You’re going to be all right, Roberto,” she murmured as Adelina returned with the infusion and some cloths.
After cleaning Roberto’s wounds, Ezaara smeared bear’s bane over the edges, the pungent onion scent making her eyes water. Surely it was the onion—not his pale pain-laced face—that made her want to cry. This was her tough master, impossible to please, cool and detached.
“That stuff stinks like leek soup,” said Adelina. “What’s it for?”
Blinking back her tears, Ezaara answered steadily, “Numbs the wound, so it won’t hurt when I stitch it.” Hands trembling, she drew her needle out of her healer’s pouch and started stitching his gashes.
Adelina clenched and unclenched her hands, then started pacing back and forth, her footsteps gnawing a hole in Ezaara’s patience.
“Would you like something to do to keep your mind off things?”
“Please.” Adelina’s voice shook almost as much as Ezaara’s hands.
“Fetch him some clean clothes.”
“Good. I’ll be back soon.” Adelina rushed out the door.
Hands coated red, Ezaara pushed the needle through Roberto’s skin, pulling the edges together. She hated stitching. Although she knew it helped, it always felt strange to put holes in people’s bodies to make them better.
“Colors, so many colors,” Roberto murmured, the trace of a smile on his face.
Great. Here she was, fretting over him, while he was having a pleasant dream. She shook her head. This was worse than she’d thought—he was delusional.
§
She was near—so close, but so far. Deep sea-greens and marine blues danced through Roberto’s mind as Ezaara smeared onion salve over him, numbing his skin, making the stabbing in his chest ease to a blunt ache. He could feel her tugging at his wounds, but the sensations were disembodied, like they belonged to someone else.
And through it all was the bright thread that joined them together.
“Roberto.” Ezaara sounded like she was calling through water.
He forced his eyelids open, but they kept sliding shut as his body dragged him back under.
“Roberto,” she called, sharper this time.
Bolts of pink shot across his vision, behind his eyelids. She could do that? Just with her voice? He was riding a sea of sensation, like a raft on the ocean, drifting away from her again.
The tugging stopped.
Her hands rubbed across his chest, leaving trails of blazing fire in their wake. His wounds seared, the burn biting deep inside him, aching through his chest. His eyes flicked open to glimpse a slim vial in her hand, then thudded shut again. Piaua. This was piaua—the reason she’d winced as he’d applied it to her ankle. It burned its way through his flesh, knitting his chest together, the deep healing fire purging his damaged tissue.
By the Egg, it hurt.
“At least it won’t leave scars.” Warmth washed through him. It was her, speaking in his mind.
Roberto forced his eyes open. The fog lifted, his vision clearing. There she was: green eyes wide, leaning over him, rubbing his chest, her golden hair shining in a shaft of sunlight.
She smiled. “How are you feeling?”
Dragon’s claws, she was beautiful. “Uh, all right. I didn’t know piaua burned.” He glanced down. His wounds were gone. Thin pink lines ran from below his collar bone, down across the right side of his chest. “That’s incredible. I thought I felt you stitching me …”
“I used bear’s bane so you wouldn’t feel much. By stitching you before I used piaua, we avoided ugly scars. I could have just used piaua, but it seemed a shame …”
She hadn’t wanted to mar his chest.
His gaze dropped to her fingers absently tracing the lines of his new scars.
Her cheeks tinged pink under his scrutiny and she snatched her hand away. He wanted to tease her and make her laugh. Nothing would please him more than flying through the skies on Erob with her in his arms. But he was her master.
Attachments led to betrayal. He’d learned that the hard way.
“Thank you for healing me, Ezaara.” He sat up, flexing his arms and chest. “I feel as good as new.” His shirt and jerkin were shredded. He pulled them off and cast around for something else to wear.
Ezaara corked the piaua vial and tucked it in her healer’s pouch.
There was a knock at the door, and Adelina came inside, carrying
