Page 83 of Sunder

To her...

She took a breath. Gave a smile that was forced and much too tight, and he shook his head, taking her hand and pulling her after him.

There was a bell on the door that heralded their entrance with a cheerful accompaniment.

“Would you care to explore or take the direct route?” Athan asked, watching her with that careful look of his, ever poised to pick up the pieces of her crumbling self-control.

It shamed her, even though she was certain it was not his aim.

She should release his hand. Move about the room.

It opened not into a hallway, but to a large room with benches lining the walls. There were lamps fixed to the walls, but no tapestries, only a large window that would provide ample light if the shutters were open.

Orma swallowed. “You examine people all together like this?”

The prospect was horrifying, and Athan must have found it equally so, for his mouth dropped open before he shook his head firmly. “This is where families wait. Or patients, I suppose, if I am too busy with the last. There are often children here, waiting for a parent or a sibling to come out again.” He gestured toward closed doors along the far wall. “Patients are afforded as much privacy as I can give them.”

Orma nodded, because it was expected. There was a stone in her stomach, or at least it felt like it, and she reminded herself firmly that Athan was a kind healer. He would do his best for those in his care.

He tugged at her hand, ready to lead her onward, but she hesitated. She needed to compliment him in some way. Needed to be present and appreciative, not stuck in the shadowy recesses of her own memory. “A fine room,” Orma offered, her voice small.

The pressure on her arm receded as he stopped trying to move them on. “We keep it sparse on purpose,” he explained. “Cushions would be more comfortable, but they’d be much harder to clean after a sickness, yes?” He gestured to the floor, the wooden fixtures. “All can be wiped down easily. And are, daily. When we are open, that is.”

He glanced at her, and she realised he was waiting for some sign of her approval. “You are very thoughtful,” Orma offered, taking a step nearer to him and squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled at her softly. “I take my responsibilities very seriously,” Athan affirmed. “When someone trusts me with their care.”

Her skin warmed, and the bond gave a mild pulse. He’d give no less consideration to his mate than he did his patients.

She took a breath and wondered at herself. Because the impulse was there, a whisper of thought that sent a tingle through her skin, and it was likely a trick of the bond because it couldn’t possibly be her.

But the bond did not make her stand on tiptoe.

The bond did not make her lips curl before they pressed against his cheek.

But it certainly made it feel like the right response when it warmed her all over, pressing down the fears she’d struggled with only a moment before. “They are lucky to have you,” Orma finished, when her heels met the floor and she managed a shy glance up at him.

She didn’t expect the look in his eyes. The surprise mixing with something else. Pride? In her? Which made her insides squirm in ways that had nothing to do with bonds and pulses. Just the simple assurance that she had pleased him greatly, in a way he had not expected.

“Shall we move along?” Athan asked, and she was pleased to see that some colour had reached the tips of his ears.

She’d done that.

Which made her feel a moment’s pride all on her own as she nodded her head and let him lead her further into the building itself.

It was an odd setup. It likely would make sense if one had a better understanding of how an infirmary functioned, but she would not pretend she’d ever seen its equal. There were no stairs to the upper floor, only a low ramp that twined upward. It was far easier on her hip than the endless stairs, and it would undoubtedly allow fatigued patients a safer way down than to trust frail wings to manage their descent in an open fall.

There were small windows cut into the exterior walls—small slits of light peeping through the shutters. “Ventilation,” Athan answered before she’d even formed the question. “So the building might be fully aired. The breeze cuts through this way.” He gestured with his hand, and it was becoming quite clear a great deal of thought had been put into the design.

“Did your master build this?” she asked. Few built anything new any longer. Merchants with enough funds to acquire the permit could settle within the city, and she supposed a few would prefer something newly constructed to their tastes and abilities rather than make do when they had no wings to navigate the typical city home.

But most simply adapted what was already there. The ancient stones that served as foundations for each of the dwellings. The wood would be replaced every few generations, but the parts that mattered—that were built to last and hold even against the fiercest sea-storms...

They remembered.

Even if the people did not.

Athan smiled—the one that was a little sad because he was thinking of someone he lost. Someone he loved. “No. He came from a long line of healers. He could recite them in their entirety,but I confess I cannot. There is a plaque outside. It was a great honour when he added my name to it.”

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