Page 18 of Where Shadows Bloom

Besides myself.

At the thought, my heart ached. A lump formed in my throat. Could I be—? What if that girl wasme? Could I dare to hope that girl she called beautiful, that girl she felt so shy before, who she longed to recite poetry to, who sheloved—was me?

There was a knock at the door.

My stomach dropped and I hastened to tuck the book back into the bag. A blush scalded my cheeks. I glanced over my shoulder—thankfully, Lope hadn’t stirred and hadn’t spotted me rifling through her things. How would she react, knowing that I’d read her private poems and learned this secret? It could crush any budding confidence in herself, in her words. It could topple the years of friendship that had been built between us.

I scurried to the door and found a man dressed in plain, brown clothing with a dark apron over his suit and a leather bag in his hand. For an instant, I was back at the manor, watching an almost identical man suture up the flayed flesh of my mother’s arms. The smell of blood and chemicals I had no names for, her cries of pain muffled by a sponge.

“Mademoiselle,” said the physician with a bow. “I was told there was someone injured?”

“Yes,” I said, unmoving in the doorway. “I entreat you, please be very careful with her.”

His lips quirked in the vaguest idea of a smile. “I will do my best.”

I stepped aside, letting him enter. From behind his spectacles, his eyes widened at the bloody cloths I’d hastily set at the foot of the bed. At this angle, he couldn’t see the injured half of her face—but a few steps more and he hissed, like he was in pain himself.

“I tended to it as best as I could,” I piped up. “I—I just wanted to clean the blood from her face.”

He set up a chair at her bedside. “Young lady?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

Lope’s eyes stayed shut, even as she sluggishly swiveled her head toward him. Before she could say anything, he was grabbing at her face, peering first at the gash on the left side. Then he began prying open her eyelids.

Lope moved quick as a striking snake—her right arm sweeping his hands away and her left hand suddenly upon the man’s throat. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled.

I grabbed the man by the back of his coat and jerked him out of Lope’s hold. He gasped for air and threw her a glare.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, keeping my voice cool and sweet to coax him to stay. “She’s only frightened. We just escaped an attack from a horde of Shadows.”

As he rubbed at his throat, the doctor shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”

My simpering mask cracked just a little bit. “I can assure you my memory is quite clear.”

“It’s simply not possible,” said the man matter-of-factly.“Such creatures do not dwell anywhere near this palace. It is holy ground.”

“Then what in the bloody Underworld isthis?” Lope asked, her voice raspy as she pointed to her newest wound.

“Judging by your temperament, I daresay it could be a prize won from a duel,” the doctor said primly, distaste plain. He turned back to me, looking me up and down. “What is she to you? Your servant?”

My protector. My confidant. My dearest friend. My savior. And, when I glanced at her, her soft, silver eyes meeting mine, the way my heart fluttered assured me that there was some other word for her altogether.

“La Caballera de la Rosa is my sworn knight,” I said softly. “It’s thanks to her valor that we arrived here safely. Deny the monsters we fought, if it helps you sleep well. Set that aside. I only want to know that she will be well.”

“I think she means to bite me if I continue my inspection, mademoiselle.” He sniffed and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “A bit of sleep will tend to that spirit of hers. Her color is a bit pale, but a turn in the garden will do her well. As for that wound... let it rest. Her body is getting rid of her bad humors through her blood. She will heal with time.”

What an utter waste.

I thanked him profusely and kept a smile pasted on my face until I could shut the door behind him. I sighed. “Forgive me, Lope, I didn’t think he’d be so intrusive.”

She sleepily smiled at me from the bed, utterly relaxed again now that it was just the two of us. “You did nothing wrong.”

My pulse leapt at this, for I hadindeeddone something very wicked moments ago, peering through her journal and into her heart. I bit on my lip to keep my calm facade from falling.

“The surgeons here likely only know how to treat broken nails or ankles twisted while dancing,” said Lope. She took a deep, labored breath. “I know plenty about Shadow attacks. I just need air. And sleep.”

Without another thought, I dashed to the window, unlatching the two panels so they would swing inside, letting in a rush of warm, end-of-summer air. Blinking back sunlight, I stepped forward, craning my neck out the window.

Before me was a sprawling, seemingly endless garden, all the plants gilded by the morning sunshine. Bushes were carved into perfect cones and swirls, and between them, golden-pink flowers were planted in an arrangement so vast they made a flowerbed seem like just that—a giant bed upon which I could easily fall asleep.

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