Page 15 of Splintered Shadow
“No.” Impossible. The void beast carried the same parasite as the karu. While a karu formed a mutually beneficial relationship with a person, a void beast was a thoughtless creature. They did not bond. They tore their hosts apart. “Only a handful of people have ever survived bonding with a void beast, and that was centuries ago. They might as well be legends.”
“How intriguing,” Harol said, unmoved by the improbability of the notion.
Not how Vekele would phrase it, but to each his own.
“I dare say we will know for certain when the bonded beast shows up. I am done here,” Harol continued. “I have a sample of her blood. I will test for infection and run a genetic analysis on her samples to discover her origin.”
Vekele had put much thought into the female’s origin. While the medic worked, he had nothing else to occupy his thoughts. He considered and eliminated all the planets and systems that used to be part of the Arcosian trade network. In the end, he only had one possibility.
“I believe she is from Reilen,” he said. It was not a good solution. Reilendeers considered themselves superior and regarded interaction with lesser lifeforms as a necessary evil to trade. They knew of the royal mark and would believe the Arcosians backward enough to revere a stranger bearing such a mark. As an infiltration tactic, it was efficient.
It made little sense, however. Trade between Arcos and Reilen had been halted for more than a century, thanks to war within the kingdom that left common merchant ships unprotected from pirates. Therefore, there was no reason for a Reilendeer to be present, let alone go through the trouble of inking the royal mark on an operative.
The medic’s gaze swept over the female. “The coloring is correct, but Reilendeer have antlers.”
Vekele had considered that as well. “They are shifters. Who knows what they are capable of? Why a Reilendeer would be in Arcosian territory remains to be seen.”
“Well, it is above my pay grade to speculate,” Harol said, his tone indifferent as he opened the med kit. He rattled off a list of instructions. “I have cleaned the wound, but she will require a bath. Keep her off the leg. Rest. Expect a fever. This is for pain as needed. No more than two.”
A pill bottle rattled as Harol set it on a side table.
“Is it safe?” Vekele asked. They did not know the female’s biology or if she could tolerate the same drugs as an Arcosian. “I did not retrieve this female from Miria only to have her accidentally poisoned.”
Harol tilted his head. “Is that the only reason? Bad manners?”
“Doubtless my brother could turn an elegant phrase about hospitality and the inexcusable rudeness of murdering a guest, but I am a simple male.”
The medic huffed with amusement. “The female has tolerated the sedative thus far. If her mind is clear, let her be aware of the risks and decide.”
“When she wakes, we will have much to discuss.”
He stood at the foot of the bed, finally looking at the female. She seemed small in his bed, swallowed up by the pillows and layers of blankets, and not attractive. Red hair clung to her scalp. Feverish, her skin was drained of color and too pink all at once.
Harold had removed her garments for access to her wounds, but she carried the dust and debris from the temples of Miria. Blood still clung to her skin. She was a filthy, sweaty lump, ruining his fine sheets.
Oddly, even ill, and unattractive in her current condition, she appeared correct, as if his bed had been a lonely place waiting for this female with red hair.
A bath.
The medic prescribed a bath.
He swallowed, picturing the female soaking in a bath. Fragrant blossoms would be scattered across the water. Sweet soaps, aromatic oils, and the richest lotions would line the tub, ready for her selection.
The karu hopped from the headboard to the foot of the bed, squawking to interrupt his inappropriate thoughts. The female was injured. She was unwell.
It would be proper to summon an attendant to bathe her, but her presence needed to remain hidden for the moment. He could do an adequate job with a basin of water and a cloth.
“You have your instructions, Your Highness.” Harol packed up his supplies to leave.
“Leave the kit,” Vekele said.
The medic stiffened. “Sir, if you intend to use my tools of healing to inflict harm—”
“No,” he interrupted, surprised.
“During yourdiscussion.” Harol squared his shoulders, preparing himself to be struck for his insolent tone.
Vekele sighed. He could not blame the male. In recent years, the military had a reputation for employing unsavory means to acquire information. His own family had been known to torture secrets out of each other.
