Page 28 of The Witch's Shifter
I start by assessing everything. The wounds from the glass are numerous but not as deep as I expected. Once I clean them up and put a salve on them for quick healing, they shouldn’t need much additional care. The wounds on his chest, shoulder, and neck are worse though. They were doing so well, healing up as he rested, but now they’re torn open and tender once more. They’re not bleeding, but they’re worse off than when he left here.
Faolan watches me quietly as I add slippery elm bark and yarrow to my mortar and begin grinding it up with the pestle, adding a few drops of warm water at a time. I continue working at it until it has formed a thick paste, then gesture for him to scoot a bit closer. I’m reminded of doing something similar nottoo long ago, when Alden hurt his thumb and I wrapped it for him.
“What’s this for?” Faolan asks, blue eyes wary as I lean forward, the poultice thick on my fingertips.
“It’ll help your wounds heal. It’s antiseptic and will bring inflammation down. Just sit still.”
Slowly, I begin applying the poultice to the shallow cuts covering Faolan’s torso, being careful to avoid the deeper ones gouged into his neck, chest, and shoulder. As my fingers brush along his skin, he takes a breath, and I’d think it from the pain if not for the shiver that rolls through his body.
“Does this hurt?” I whisper.
Jaw flexing, he shakes his head once. “No.”
On his knees, his fingers curl into fists.
My heart beats a bit faster as I continue applying the poultice. Once I’m done with the shallow cuts, I turn my focus to the deeper ones.
“I’m just going to bandage these. I want to keep them clean.”
The muscles in his jaw are still tight, his fists still clenched. I lean forward to grab a few cloth bandages from the table, then scoot my chair around so I can more easily access the injury wrapping around his shoulder.
“Lift your arm,” I say.
He does as I ask.
While wrapping the cloth around his upper arm and shoulder, I glance at his face. He’s looking away from me, eyes slightly narrowed.
“Now will you tell me how you got these?” My voice is small and gentle in the warm sunlit kitchen.
When I first asked, he told me he’d been in a fight, but he wouldn’t tell me with whom.
Faolan doesn’t reply at first, just stares toward the wall. I don’t push, instead focusing on gently wrapping the bandage around his shoulder.
“I got them in a fight,” he says after a long stretch of peaceful quiet,“with my brother.”
My fingers falter with the fabric. “You have a brother?”
“I have a few. But this fight was with my twin, Cathal.” He lets out a sigh as I finish with his shoulder bandage and turn my focus to the one on his chest. “He’s our alpha.” Faolan scoffs.
“Does this bother you?”
“Typically, it wouldn’t, but he’s got no business leading the pack. It should’ve been me.”
“And why isn’t it? Lift your arms again.”
Faolan does so, and I lean close, reaching around his back to wrap the bandage snug about his torso. Being this close to him, I detect a sylvan scent, one of damp earth and moss and leaves. He tenses up as my fingers brush his bare back, but I’m soon leaning away, finishing the wrap.
“Because I had no mate.” His blue eyes meet mine. “Until now.”
A tingle goes through me at the intensity in his gaze. “I don’t understand.”
“Only a mated pair can lead the pack. Cathal met his mate this summer, at one of our pack gatherings.”
Mated pairs? Pack gatherings? There’s still so much I don’t know about him and his life.
“Now that you’ve met me”—I avert my gaze, finding it easier to speak about such things without staring him in the eye—“can you challenge him for alpha?”
“Now that I’ve met you,” he says slowly, “I’ve no reason to care.”
