Page 122 of Eldritch
I didn’t bother to respond to that. My mind was still in chaos where Aleysia was concerned, but less so than his injuries and the worrisome spread of those black veins. “May I look at your wound?”
Sighing, he nodded and hooked his fingers beneath the hem of his tunic, the two of us lifting it over his head. While the cut to his stomach appeared to be more superficial, the gouge in his arm had me a bit more concerned. “This is going to have to be cleaned. And sewn.”
“You have experience with sewing wounds?”
“Not wounds, but I do have experience hemming dresses that needed to last more than a year. I know how to use a needle and thread. Thicker fabric, is all.” Careful not to get my fingers too close to the edges, I pinched the wound together, and more blood oozed out of it. When I let go, I realized the depth of it once the blood had cleared away. “And a lot of blood.” My voice faltered on the last word, and I swallowed back the rising acids in my throat.
“I’m going to make this easy on you, then.” Zevander raised his palm toward the fireplace, and at first, his face twisted, as if he was in pain, his arm shaking as he held it outstretched. He lowered it, slowly exhaled, and raised his palm again. A narrow beam of black flame shot out from his palm, striking the logs stacked inside the fireplace, which blazed into a roaring flame. “Grab the iron, get it hot.”
My throat tightened. “Are you asking me to burn your wound?”
“I am.”
Glancing at the gaping crevice again, I cleared my throat of the nausea that toyed with my tonsils. “I don’t know if I can do that. The very thought …”
“Then, I’ll do it. If you wouldn’t mind getting the iron hot.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, I pushed to my feet and grabbed the fire iron from the rack beside the fireplace. I set it down in the flame, feeling all the more sick as the point gave off a bright violet glow. While it heated, I rifled through one of the drawers of the armoire in search of a rag that I could use to lift it out of the flame without scalding my hand.
A loud sizzling sound brought my attention snapping back toward the fireplace, where Zevander stood, holding the iron to his stomach. Jaw tight, he let out a grunt and groan that strangely sounded more pleasured than pained, as the metal scorched his flesh.
“Oh, my god, why would you attempt to do that yourself?” I stepped cautiously toward him, wanting him to stop, but not wanting to get too close, at the same time.
He pulled the metal from his stomach and placed it on his shoulder, inciting another crackle of flesh. Eyes on mine, his lips pulled to a smirk as he seared his gash, before tossing the iron back into the fireplace. “Cleaned and sealed,” he said.
I examined the wounds that had already come together in a line of raw, angry flesh that glistened. “Is it a mancer ability to heal so quickly?”
“Ordinarily, I’d heal much quicker, but the lack of vivicantem slows everything down. Weakens it.”
I gripped his arm to look at the wound on his shoulder, and the unnatural chill of his skin tightened my brows. “You’re cold.”
“I just walked in the rain in the middle of winter.”
“Of course.” Except, I had witnessed him, a time, or two, standing at the forest without a shirt, and his skin had been nowhere near as cold. “Let me draw you a bath. You’re covered in blood.”
“I have to keep watch.”
Groaning, I crossed the room toward the window and peered out to see Raivox perched on a nearby balcony beneath a stony overhang that kept the rain off of him. “I think we’re covered for now.”
Zevander strode up alongside me, as if he needed to see for himself, and sighed. “I suppose a bath wouldn’t hurt. It’s been a while.”
Lingering at the window a moment longer, I puzzled out why Raivox had chosen to remain. While, on one hand, I loved the safety of having him close, on the other, I knew him to be a creature of instinct. Protective.
Was it Aleysia that stirred his guarding behavior? Zevander?
Or something else entirely?
The chill leaking through the window urged me back toward the fireplace, and I lifted the lever fastened to the stone wall beside it, which gurgled and creaked as water filtered out of a stone spout, into the cauldron on a hot sizzle. Curls of steam rose up over top of the cauldron while I pumped away, filling it with fresh water.
I gathered the oversized blanket from the bed and dragged it toward the fireplace, depositing it on the floor. “Sit here by the fire and warm yourself while the water heats.”
“I’m fine. I’m not as delicate as I look.” His comment brought a smile to my face.
“No. You’re not. But for once, could you let me feel useful?”
He quirked a brow, and the most atrociously handsome smirk played on his lips. Without further argument, he loweredhimself to the blankets and rested his elbows on his bent knees. “Happy?”
“Very. I’m going to light a fire in Aleysia’s room. And…mine.”
