Page 14 of The Elven Healer's Apprentice

“Not with those hands. They are going to require care for at least a day.”

“A day? Surely more.”

I glanced over at her to find her sadly regarding her torn-up palms. Even from where I stood, I noted the raw flesh, angry from the abuse it had received. The glass needed to be plucked out before I healed her.

A shard of glass fell to the floor, recalling me to my current task.

“No, be still. I need to concentrate,” I admonished more gruffly than I intended.

I couldn’t afford this delay. My clinic was in shambles, Lippin nowhere to be found, and my stores of herbs were sorely lacking. So much work lay ahead before I could even consider the effort of setting up my experiments again. She was a dangerous distraction.

Still, my hand tingled where it had touched her. I never had that kind of reaction to physical contact before. It was as if my senses had intensified. Yaron’s bitter taste had completely overwhelmed my mouth and nose. The experience had startled me. Instead of being repulsed, I was curious. So many questions came to mind. Ignoring her would take far more discipline than I wished, but I had to focus on the pressing matters of my supplies first.

I made quick work of the mess while she remained blessedly quiet. Then I took the yaron powder outside before incinerating it and dispelling the resulting smoke. Considering the strength of her reaction, the smoke would most likely set her off again.

After a few deep lungfuls of fresh air, I closed my eyes and soaked in the sun for a moment.

A soft cry of pain interrupted my moment of quiet. I turned my head to listen. A tiny feminine sob confirmed my initial assessment. She was digging the glass out herself.

“What do you think you are doing?” Bursting through the still room door, I angrily stormed across the room and plucked the tweezers from her shaking fingers. She regarded me with wide-eyed apprehension. Despite a twinge of regret, I glared at her. “I told you to wait.”

“But…” She sucked in a shaky breath before meeting my fury with a façade of bravery. Fear and pain mingled in her jade eyes, shaming me for my anger. Tears glistened behind her lashes. “I am capable of—”

I grabbed her left hand, the one she had been working on, and turned it palm up. Ignoring the acute sense of belonging thatcame over me when I touched her, I assessed the damage with clinical objectivity. About thirty shards of glass were embedded in the soft skin of her palm, and the tighter skin over her fingers was covered in tiny cuts. Thankfully, none of them appeared deep.

“Other hand,” I demanded.

She extended it, fingers trembling. “It isn’t as bad.”

“It wasn’t until you tried to use it,” I snapped as I pressed on the skin around the deepest and largest shard, pulling the flesh back from the glass. Her breath hitched with pain, but she made no other sound.

“Sorry, but this is going to hurt,” I muttered. Part of me wanted to shake her. The potential for her to do serious damage to her hands was so high. Irritation flared, compromising my professional objectivity. It was impossible to ignore her pain. Slapping a strong numbing spell on her hands, I picked up the tweezers and set to work, ignoring the distracting desire to comfort her.

Chapter Five

Merlon

For three days, her presence drove me to distraction even when she wasn’t there. When I entered a room, I noticed the traces of Adela’s recent passing. The scent of her—a beguiling smell I couldn’t name—lingered in the air. Straightened jars, washed surfaces, and neatened linens became constant reminders that she had touched them. And when we were in the same room, the desire to reach out and touch her disrupted my focus. Curiosity about whether contact would still heighten my senses demanded I test the possibility. I fought it hard.

On the fourth morning, I decided something had to change before I lost my mind. But before confronting her, I had to deal with my patients—alone, thankfully.

Still, by the middle of the morning, I had reached the end of my patience. My ears rang with the shrieks of the child on my examining table. His straight dark hair stood up at odd angles, partially coated in some sticky substance. The dark hue of his skin had taken on a purple undertone as he emitted harsh sounds of distress. But try as I might, I noted nothing physically wrong with the toddler besides his mood, which was clearly poor.

“What do you want from me?” I demanded of the boy’s mother, Ethe. “You say he can speak, but he refuses to stopscreaming long enough to breathe, let alone be questioned. I don’t heal behavioral issues.”

“I told you!” The elven woman, draped in silk and satin in shades of green, glared at me. Raising her voice to be heard over her son’s howls, Ethe still kept a level of dignity that grated on my nerves as much as her son’s noise. Regal irritation radiated from the elegantly crossed arms and the sparking silver bite of her stare. She flicked a long black curl over her shoulder. “I wish for your apprentice to examine Hugion. Only she understands how to soothe him.”

“I have no apprentice.” How many times must I suffer this request? In the months I had been gone, Adela had stolen the loyalty of all my usual clients, my unicorn, and apparently the work ethic of my assistant, who was never available when I needed him. Even worse, she had broadened my services into realms I had no experience handling. Children were mysteries to me. I healed their bodies, but when it came to raising them, or nurturing them, I could only parrot the advice experienced parents had given me over the years.

Ethe began again. “The human woman—”

I raised a hand, cutting her off right there. “I know who you refer to!”

“Then why won’t you produce her?”

I opened my mouth to tell Ethe in no uncertain terms that I had every right to decide who was allowed on my land. But before the words left my mouth, the door to the examining room slammed open.

The subject of our discussion strode across the room. Tendrils of her chestnut hair cascaded about her shoulders, falling out of the soft coil she had twisted at the top of her head. I caught a whiff of mint and chamomile as she passed. Their calming scents contrasted sharply with the visual impression of an avenging angel.

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