Page 22 of Bloodguard

He doesn’t like what I said. “I don’t have a week. They could call me backtomorrow.”

Which is true. Gladiators don’t have a posted schedule, and some can go weeks between bouts. Soro once told me they do that to whip the betting into a frenzy when a favorite reappears, but looking at the bleak expression Leith is currently trying to hide, I think it might be to break the fighters’ spirits as much as their bodies.

I lift my chin. “You can’t fight with your body this wounded,” I say, matching his sharp tone.

“Wounds have never stopped me before, and they sure as sin won’t stop me now.”

No…they probably won’t. “Well, if that’s what you want, fine.” I sigh.

He doesn’t say anything for a long while. I don’t, either. I can’t treat him without his consent. It’s unethical.

Finally, he mutters, “You can heal me fully?”

“I’ll do my best.”

He studies me closely. I don’t know what he sees, but for once, he doesn’t have much to say. He just stares at me for several long moments, judging his options—judging me. Then he mumbles, “Fine.”

I shudder and hope that I really can help him as much as I claim. As committed as I am to healing, I’m incapable of miracles.

I couldn’t save my grandmother. I couldn’t heal myself fully. I can’t seem to help Giselle.

“Lean forward and let me see your back.” When he does, his skin stretches out like a map, a landscape riddled with war and pain and fire—burns, so many burns. My fingertips inadvertently pass along the scars on the right side of my jaw. I wish I could remember more about that day. All I remember are flames and pain. Somuchpain. Sometimes, I swear I can feel it still.

And still my scars are nothing compared to those Leith bears.

How is this man alive? When I’m queen, I’ll free Papa, and we will end these games forever.

I dip my fingers into the paste I made, strengthening the mixture by adding the purple dust from aja mushrooms. It took months for me to find a fairy circle strong enough to grow them, but even then, I only found three and collected two.

Aja mushrooms are one of the only things that can heal not only a late-stage infection but the charred flesh that, under non-magical circumstances, would take months to painstakingly regrow.

An ache builds in my bones—that feeling of doubt that plagues me more than I wish. But if I am to be queen, there can never be doubt. Only action.

I shake off the fear. This mixture is potent, and it must be formulated just right. If I somehow missed a step, it will not only kill the infection. It will kill him.

The ingredients sparkle, brightening the paste. I exhale with relief. That’s a good sign.

I apply the mixture to his left hand, starting with a stab wound straight through his palm—it may be too late to preserve full mobility in that hand—and onto the series of gashes crisscrossing his arms. He doesn’t even flinch as I attend to these injuries.

But his jaw clenches when I move to his back. There’s a large wound on his shoulder that the dragon fire only partially cauterized. Whatever made that gash dug deep. He’s lucky to be alive.

He hisses as I glide my finger along the inflamed lesions and the deep burns. The paste is working as I intended. It sizzles across the skin, eating away at the damaged tissue and stirring new skin to form.

He grips the edge of the bathtub tighter.

Come on, heal…

The scar bursts open, and I gasp.

Leith twitches but otherwise remains still. I’d expected to find more injured tissue. I hadn’t expected to find a pus-filled sac at the base.

“Uh…this might sting a little,” I warn, trying not to gag.

With a sickeningpop, yellow fluid mixed with spots of green oozes out.

My face puckers, and I struggle for balance. It’s only because of the pain he’s in that he doesn’t notice my reaction. Good. Despite my chosen specialty and unusually strong stomach, this is all sorts of disgusting.

The cleaning stone absorbs the contaminants like a sponge, rapidly pulling them in and keeping the water clean. I’ve never treated someone this injured before. Not even close.

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