Page 24 of Avelina

“Can’t you throw fireballs or something?” I asked, scratching behind Rogue’s ears.

Aaron gave me the look again. I was beginning to think it was his default setting. “That would be convenient, but no. I can burn someone with a touch”—he paused for a second, frowning deeply—“or set the ground where they stand on fire, but it doesn’t work over distances and it’s difficult to manage quickly.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. I looked around for what else I might pack in my bag but didn’t see anything obvious. “Maybe you could make little flammable balls, set those on fire and throw them.”

He stopped to think. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Really? Well, maybe I won’t be completely useless,” I said. I walked back over to the table and set my pack down. I spotted a little wooden bowl and grabbed it to put Rogue’s water in while on the road, then glanced back at Aaron. He glowered down into the chest from his kneeling position, his mouth forming a taut line.

“I was rude to you yesterday,” he said. “I apologize. I have no excuse.”

I gaped at him, surprised by his blunt apology. When I saw that he was serious, I felt a surge of affection for him. Anyone who apologizes outright like that always elicits a feeling of protectiveness from me because an honest apology is a show of vulnerability. It’s a request for acceptance, an experience that I could definitely relate to.

“It’s okay, Aaron,” I said. “I was just kidding. I’d be bird food if you hadn’t come to get me.”

Aaron stared at me, still on his knees. I looked right back at him, and an understanding passed between us. From that moment on, we would try to trust each other. Given his history, I could see how that might be difficult for him. I had an intense urge to hug him again. I ignored it, and the moment passed. Whew.

He went back to searching through the chest, and I stuffed the little bowl into my pack. It barely fit. I picked up the oil lamp and carried it over to Aaron, holding it over the chest.

“Do you want me to carry anything else?” I asked.

“Are you sure you can fit anything else into that disorganized mess you call a pack?”

“What? I know exactly where everything is in this pack! I just don’t know exactly what is in the pack. And it’s a good thing, too, because otherwise . . .” My voice trailed off.

I was going to say that he’d benefitted from my random first aid kit, but then I looked at the gash that I’d supposedly tended to. With the light so close, I could now see that it actually looked quite bad.

“Holy crap, Aaron! This is terrible. Your eye is completely bloodshot,” I said. I held the lamp at a better angle, and he lifted his hand to shade his eyes. “Hold still,” I said sternly, batting his hand aside. I stepped in closer to remove the bandage, and I saw him wince again. The skin around it was so swollen that it looked like a giant welt. I carefully peeled the bandage off, releasing a putrid smell that made me gag. The edges of the wound were black, and the center was filled with yellow pus.

“Holy shit, Aaron. We have to get you some help with this wound. It’s so much worse than yesterday.” I coughed at the foul odor.

He waved the light away from his face again. “I’ve been scratched before. Dragon talons are poisonous, and they can kill, but I am protected. I always heal from everything.”

“What does that even mean? This is not healing, Aaron, this is spreading. At least let me clean it again. It stinks, and if it keeps turning black and spreading out, you’ll lose your eye and maybe worse.”

Aaron sighed. “Fine, but if what you say is true, then it probably needs a real healer.” He looked at me obliquely, letting me draw my own conclusions.

I hesitated, thinking about what the implications of that would be. I was bonding with him, sure, but this was a pretty big step beyond friendly teasing. My experience in the portal was still fresh in my mind, and I knew that if this healing was anything like that, then I might as well just sleep with him now and get it over with.

“I don’t know how,” I said finally.

Aaron reached up tentatively and touched my cheek where a burn should have been. His fingers were warm, and I instinctively closed my eyes for a moment in response to the sensation. A thrill ran through me, and I wasn’t sure if it came from me or him. “I know you can do this because you already healed yourself,” he said softly. “Look at Rogue’s face. He is still burned, but your face is . . .” He searched for the right word.

“Beautiful? Enchanting? The very essence of perfection?” I suggested. I tried and failed to keep a straight face.

“You make everything into a joke,” he said, shaking his head.

I shrugged. “Get used to it. It only gets worse the longer you know me.”

He huffed a breath out. “I guess I have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I said seriously.

He paused, thinking about that. “I’ve never healed anyone myself,” he said, “but I know the theory, and it’s not dissimilar to what I do. I’ll guide you the best I can.” He stared at me much as he had the night before when he had inadvertently held onto my hand, his eyes penetrating straight through my emotional defenses.

“Okay,” I said, “but you better sit down for this. Ya know, in case it works. I’d hate for you to pass out and crack your head. That could start a vicious cycle.”

He hesitated for a second, just like I had, then stood and took off his blade-bedazzled vest. He replaced the chest lid and sat on top of it, ignoring the chair.

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