Page 270 of Alchemised
His fingers brushed near the wound, and her mind stalled, careening violently.
“Don’t—don’t touch it!” The words came out a strangled scream. She almost fell off the table, trying to get away.
He snatched his hand back as she collapsed and lay there, drawing sharp laboured breaths as she tried to calm down, choking back panicked sobs.
Her heart was pounding so hard, she could feel it in her temples.
“He was going to—going to—” She tripped over her own tongue, trying to protectively cradle that side of her body. Keep it from being touched.
“He’s gone.” Kaine’s expression was pulled taut, a forced flatness to his entire demeanour. “He won’t ever come back. Should I just cover the wound and fix your hands instead?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll stay still. Just—” She swallowed. “Sorry.”
The muscle in his jaw set. As he worked, he began telling her each time he was about to touch her, what he was about to do, his voice low, calm, and she realised he was imitating the way she used to narrate her treatment of the array.
It was the simplest part of the procedure, but she wanted to throw up because she was so sick with terror.
“There.”
The immediate danger had passed. Kaine also seemed to finally breathe.
“Why were you there?” he finally asked.
She stared at him for a moment and then looked away. “The Council was going to do whatever it took to get Luc back.”
“You aren’t experienced in combat,” he said. His hands trembled as he wiped blood off her face. “Why would they bring you without even giving you a partner.”
“I had a partner,” she said. “She died in the fight.”
“Who?”
“Purnell. She was an—orderly.”
He glared at her.
“It had to be a small team; we were supposed to get in and out without being noticed. Sofia and I weren’t supposed to fight.”
“You knew it was a suicide mission. That is what the Bayards do, they die for the Holdfasts. They know nothing else.”
“Yes, but if Luc dies it’s over, for all of us. It was worth it to go.”
“And if you’d died?” He looked up, his eyes glittering with rage.
“There’s plenty of people to replace me. I’ve always been expendable, remember?” She used her elbows to sit up. “I need you to fix my hands now.”
The strain showed around his eyes. “I know.”
She forced herself to inhale. “Start with my left. It won’t matter as much if it doesn’t all set right.”
He blocked off most of the feeling from her elbow down but left enough that she could sense if he was setting it correctly, working as gently as he could. The broken pieces ground together, sending a sudden pain through her arm into her shoulder, even with most of the sensation gone.
“Good,” she choked out, dropping her head onto his shoulder as she fought back tears.
He rejoined the bones in her wrists before he worked on her hands directly. He had to physically move several bones back into alignment, twisting the parts that Blackthorne had mangled.
The pain without the adrenaline surge of battle bore into her. She was sobbing into his shoulder by the time he finished aligning the bones and began fusing them.
Her hand was swollen, purple and red from bruising when he finished.
