So she resumed her methodical routines and refused to go into the library’s catacombs.
“I left because I felt like I had no choice.” And truthfully, she hadn’t. What? Just keep Enyo locked inside? The Goddess would have razed Moxous. “And I came back because I wanted to regain that choice once more. I had worked for so long to graduate and— And to be so close and never achieve my life long goal…” Her delicate shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. She hadn’t wanted to start her new life that way, with regret.
Risette studied Alphonse for a moment longer and then nodded.
“Well. I don’t know what you went through or why you left, but I’m glad you did. You were always tucked away, quiet and sedate. Boring. Your only friends were girls who looked down on you and that crazy sorcerer. You seem better now. Happier— Ah! There is the pond. Look, the geese are out.”
Alphonse watched in mild bafflement as Risette hurried to feed the geese some grapes she had hidden in her pack.
Had her life been boring and sequestered before Enyo?
Yes.
Was it better now?
Alphonse shook her head. It seemed impossible to say.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
Strong hands drew meticulous circles across her peaked chest, between her breasts, slowly down her belly. Each pass of fingertips across her skin made Alphonse shiver in anticipation, and she bit back a moan as a calloused hand gripped her hip.
Ice blue eyes crinkled in enjoyment as a thumb pressed against Alphonse’s core, her face flushing in pleasure.
“Delyth—”
A bell clanged overhead, and Alphonse sat up in confusion, tawny hair tousled and wild as she panted, trying to catch her breath. What was going on? Where was Delyth?
Her eyes moved to the window of her room and settled on the large clock tower of Moxous. School of Magics. No Delyth here.
Alphonse heaved a sigh and looked around more carefully. Her bedsheets were twisted and bunched up, her blankets tossed as if she’d been writhing in her sleep. Swallowing, she eased out of bed, painfully aware of the needy ache between her thighs. Her body missed Delyth as acutely as her heart did.
Sighing, she straightened her sheets and tucked in her blankets, smoothing out the wrinkles. If only it were that easy to settle herself as well.
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
Peering into the eyes of the old man, Alphonse noted how clouded with age they were. She doubted he could see past his own arms, and nighttime would be practically black for him. She smoothed her fingers over his wrist as she took his pulse. Steady and slow.
He was supple in her hands as she lifted his chin to feel the glands under his neck, rotated his arms and wrists, asked him to open his mouth.
She hardly noticed the masters slowly drifting past. In the treatment wards all over the city, the final task of Moxous healers was to work many shifts in these makeshift hospitals. Under the Masters’ supervision, they would diagnose, formulate a plan, and treat any who came into the free health wards.
Alphonse was confident in her ability to help the sick and injured. She had been tending to the city’s ill in one such ward for weeks now, and she had seen much worse with Enyo. At least now, she wasn’t healing injuries that she had a hand in creating.
The older man smiled up at Alphonse as she ran a hand over his brow, feeling his cool, dry skin. She could sense that he trusted her completely.
It honored her.
“Mister Degale...I see no obvious reason for your fatigue,” she informed him, not unkindly. “Have you been sleeping through the night?”
“Ah, healer, an old man like me doesn’t sleep through the night.” He patted his abdomen, indicating his bladder.
Alphonse smiled indulgently down at the man. “But when you return to bed, do you also return to sleep?”
“I do most nights.”
She nodded. His poor eyesight would hardly affect his energy, and his complaint upon coming into the ward was that he felt overly tired and down. There was a ring on his left hand, scuffed to match the roughness of his palms. He had been married.
“Is your spouse unwell too?” Perhaps something in their environment was making them sick?
He shook his head.
“My wife is visiting her sister in the farmlands. Her sister took ill, and so my wife has gone to help her…” He sighed in a forlorn sort of way. Alphonse could relate.
“How long has your wife been taking care of her sister?”
He shrugged noncommittally. “A few weeks now.”
And he had said he’d been feeling poorly for a week or more…
Alphonse smiled. “Please, wait here. I’ll be right back.”
When she came back, she held two cups of tea. She handed one to her patient and settled against the exam table with her own. He stared at the tea, then at her.
“You are drinking it too?”
“Of course,” she chirped, bringing it up for a sip.
“I don’t understand.”
“I suspect you miss your wife, Mister Degale. Perfectly reasonable… From the looks of your ring, you have been married for quite some time.”
He turned a very becoming shade of pink and lifted his cup up for a hardy swallow. How embarrassing to admit he missed his wife! Most husbands would relish in a few weeks peace and quiet. But here he was, sleeping poorly and feeling down. “I understand,” Alphonse assured the older man and sipped her tea.
“You have a beau?” He asked carefully, glad the topic could be turned off of
