Breath of Winter, A (6 page)

“Four weeks.” I pushed myself upright. “Is that how long you’ve hired us?”

“I haven’t decided.” He tugged at his collar. “I’ll think on it and let you know.”

“You do that.”

“Rest if you can. I’ll see you this afternoon.” He slid from the room and didn’t look back.

I ruffled my sleep-matted hair. “He sounds reluctant to have us working for him, doesn’t he?”

Ghedi shook his head. “You didn’t give him a choice.”

I snorted. “Males with his resources are never without options.”

“I will grant you that,” he said, “and he was the one who decided to employ us.”

“Guilt?” I asked.

He appeared to consider that. “Or desperation.”

“As long as the pay’s good, I can make use of either.”

“I never had any doubt.”

“What’s with that face?” I asked. “Scowl any harder and you might break something.”

“You could have been killed,” he said. “This is my my-sister-almost-died face.”

“And to think people say females are dramatic. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”

“Fynn is stable. You—” His jaw flexed. “I can’t trust you to tell me when you’re not fine.”

“I had no choice.” Surely he must see that. “Our ward was seconds from escaping.”

“I was not even an arm’s length away,” he snapped. “You could have asked me for help.”

“I didn’t need your help,” I snapped back.

“That’s your problem. Right there. You never think you do. You charge into a situation and grab it by the balls. I just—” He exhaled. “I don’t understand. We are a family. We work as a team.”

“You don’t know what it was like, before, having you five as brothers. You were legends. I was the little girl who was left behind whenever you set off on your adventures. Don’t tell me I can’t risk my neck when that’s the legacy you five handed down. Everything I know I learned by watching you.” My throat tightened, but I forced out the words. “I wanted—I want—to make you all proud.”

“Mercy be.” He stared at me. “I don’t know what Henri put in that tea, but that’s as close to sense as you’ve ever made.” He approached the bed and took my hand. “I am proud—all of us are.”

I ducked under the blanket. “That’s enough. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“But you did, and we’re going to get this out. If this weighs so heavily on you, then you ought to hear it.” He inhaled. “It’s hard to watch you take the same risks we do. That doesn’t mean we don’t respect you. It means you’re the only sister we have. It seems like yesterday you were diving off the dock and squealing to be caught before you hit the water. We know you’re grown. We just need time to accept it. Do us all a favor and don’t get killed attempting to pry open our eyes in the meantime.”

I squeezed his fingers. “I will give it my best effort.”

“That’s all I ask.” He pulled away and returned with the tray. “Feel like eating?”

“It depends.” I sniffed. “What do you have under there?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Varanus steak, roasted potatoes and some type of leafy greens.”

My mouth watered. “I hope you plated some for yourself.”

“I ate with Fynn.” He held the tray over my head. “Can you unfold the legs?”

“I don’t need the legs.” I had eaten with a plate balanced on my lap for most of my life.

“You are stubborn for stubborn’s sake.” He shifted the tray and lowered the hinged feet himself.

“It’s frivolous and pointless.” Did the Araneidae eat meals in bed so often as to require these?

“It’s courteous to use what our host provides.” He saddled my lap with a flourish. “I assume that Henri skimmed the part about how you can’t use your arm for a few days, until the stitches heal up.”

“No.” I snatched the roll from my plate and bit into it. “He neglected to mention that part.”

“You’ll be eating one-handed. Unless…” He grinned. “I could feed you.”

In answer, I snubbed the silverware he had arranged and picked up the steak with my hand.

“I thought you’d say that.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a crinkled linen napkin.

Buttery soft as the meat was, I moaned at the first bite. The potatoes and greens required a fork, but I had made my point, silly as it was. After swallowing the last mouthful, I collapsed onto the pillows. Ghedi flung the napkin at me, hitting me on the forehead. I shook out the folds. “Thanks.”

“Do I detect sarcasm, dear sister?”

“Why no, brother dearest.” I rolled my eyes. “My profuse gratitude must have confused you.”

“You’re right.” He smirked. “If you ever showed gratitude, it would confuse me.”

While I grumbled, Ghedi returned the tray to the table by the door. While his back was turned, I balled the napkin tight in my good hand. Waiting until he spun back around with a cup in his hand, I hurled the greasy cloth between his eyes as hard as I could. It tapped his biceps then fell to the floor.

“Great.” I would have to injure my dominant arm. “Now my aim is as good as yours.”

Rather than accept how far off the mark I’d been, I nestled into my covers.

Tipping my head back, I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep while wishing I had thought to ask Henri how our ward was enjoying her new quarters. Rest was elusive while my frantic mind whirred.

Too long had we guarded her for me to relinquish custody without a few proprietary twinges.

Ghedi was seconds from mutiny. I studied him from behind my cup of tea while I sipped the bitter dregs. One day trapped in the tunnels, in a room, with me, and he was wild-eyed and sweating.

I tossed a pillow at him. “Do you mind?”

“Rarely.” He bent and scooped up the cushion. “How do you stand it?”

I swept my arm down my leg. “I don’t have much choice, do I?” I lifted the edge of the net I had begun weaving. It was a new pattern, tighter, stronger than my usual designs. “What do you think?”

“Nice,” he said without looking.

A knock at the door sent Ghedi bolting toward distraction. He admitted our surprised visitor with more enthusiasm than Henri warranted, ushering him inside and leaving the door propped open.

My physician sidestepped a manic Ghedi. “How are you?”

“Tense,” Ghedi answered. “Is there anything to do down here?”

Henri peeled the covers away from my leg. “I meant your sister.”

“Oh. Right.” Ghedi still wasn’t listening. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Henri frowned at the distraction. “Would you mind waiting outside?”

“Zuri?” Ghedi eyed the hallway and licked his lips.

“Go on.” He barely waited for the words to leave my mouth before darting over the threshold.

“You’re drinking tea.” Henri noticed the cup was empty and set it aside. “How is the pain?”

I wiggled my toes at him. “No pain here.”

“Let’s not overdo things.” He covered them with his palm. “Remember, you’re still mending. No matter how good you feel, a single wrong move will undo what little healing you’ve accomplished.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I said solemnly.

He ran his hands slowly up my leg, well, up the sides of the cast. It still gave me tingles.

It also smudged lines I was unsure I should cross. Even mercenaries kept a few rules.

Allowing an employer to make you tingle… That broke number one.

“I don’t feel any damp spots,” he said. “I think you have sufficiently dried out.”

His hands smoothed lower, past my ankle, under the slit where my toes protruded.

An ear-piercing squeal sent him stumbling from the bed.

“Sorry.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “I should have said. I’m ticklish.”

“I usually ask.” He ventured a step closer. “But I touched them earlier and you seemed fine.”

“Toes are different than the bottoms of feet.”

“Specialized nerve endings,” he agreed.

“If you say so.” All I knew was it usually ended badly for the person doing the tickling.

“I applied starched strips directly onto your skin.” He remained cautious. “The gap between the cast and your leg means the swelling is continuing to go down. That’s a good thing. It means as long as you stay in bed and keep your leg elevated, we can avoid removing this cast to apply a fresh one.”

“I am in favor of that.” Its application had been simple. Its removal was what concerned me. My previous breaks had been splinted and left to heal on their own. Wearing this hard cast was…bizarre.

He indicated my shoulder. “May I?”

“I don’t see why not.” I allowed him to peel aside my gown. “Can I have a look?” I wondered how much pain had affected my perception of the wound.

“Let me clean it first.” He crossed the room to a cupboard and brought out a frosted glass bottle and a puff of some fibrous material. He set them down to lift a delicate mosaic pitcher. “That’s odd.”

“Oh?” I glanced up. “What’s that?”

“This pitcher.” He turned it in his hands. “It belongs on my desk, in the laboratory.”

“Someone must have moved it by accident.” My brothers’ manners were not the best. If I asked for a drink, and Ghedi found a full pitcher of water, I wouldn’t put it past him to carry it to my room.

“I suppose so.” He set the pitcher down gently and gathered his supplies. “This will sting.”

Once he saturated the puff with the contents of the bottle, he swiped the frigid swab over a patch of skin several inches below my collarbone and an almost equal distance from the outside of my arm.

I hissed when he pressed.

His force lessened. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Don’t stop.” I ground my jaw. “I can handle it.”

His hand hovered over the wound. “That’s good enough.”

I heard the lie in his voice but was too grateful to confront him. “Can I look now?”

“Go ahead.” He returned to the cupboard. “I’ll get the ointment and bandages while you do.”

Bracing for the worst, I glanced down. “Huh. I thought it would be larger.”

If I made a circle with my thumb and finger, it would just cover the area of puckered skin. Rows of neat knots kept the injury closed, and the shimmery white strands left no doubt they were Henri’s silk.

“Don’t poke at it.” He caught the hand I hadn’t realized I’d lifted. “You’ll irritate the skin.”

“Is it sanitary to use silk for sutures?” I wondered aloud.

“The silk is sent through a purification process.” He released me. “I didn’t sit there spinning and stitching if that’s what concerns you. Though I have no reason to think it would be unclean if I had.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone other than my brothers. I forget I should guard my tongue.” I lifted my arm and felt the taut pull of sewn flesh. “Do you think it will scar that way?” Over my shoulder I spotted the second set of stitches. “Like a star?”

“If it does, I have balms that will minimize the appearance of scar tissue.”

“That bad, huh?” I gave a tentative shrug before his glare reminded me the reason I felt this well was because of the tea I’d been drinking earlier. If not for that, I might still be curled up whimpering.

“Once the stitches come out,” he said, reclaiming his seat, “then we’ll worry about the scarring.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” I had plenty more scars where those came from. “I was curious. That’s all.”

“You’re the first female who has ever said that to me.” He unscrewed a tin with a blue fir bough stamped on its lid and scooped up a glob of gray-green ointment with two fingers. The smell burned my nose when his hand passed under my chin. “Turn your head or this could end up in your mouth.”

I did as he asked, letting him slather goop on me. Like a good patient, I even cooperated while he wound fresh gauze beneath my arm to rebind my shoulder so its weight was supported in a sling.

When all was said and done, he sat back with a pensive expression on his face.

“What is it?” I slid my gown into place.

“I’ve been hesitant to ask about Hishima.” His fingers drummed his armrest. “Or your ward.”

I flipped the cover over my legs. “But?”

“I can’t begin testing her without some basic information. I tried asking your brothers. With the exception of Ghedi, they won’t speak to me.” He waited to see if I would choose to enlighten him as to the reason why they kept silent. I didn’t. It wasn’t my place. “I will assume it’s nothing personal.”

“It’s personal all right, but on our side. Not yours.” I tacked on, “They meant no offense.”

“Then none will be taken.” He reached for his coin. “Do you feel up to talking for a bit?”

“Sure. I’ll even go first.”

He set his coin weaving through his fingers. “Fair enough.”

“Paladin Vaughn sent a letter.” That much I knew for certain. “I assume you intercepted it.”

His expression remained neutral. “If such a letter existed, I couldn’t discuss it with you.”