Page 54 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

The doctor tells them to occupy the empty beds at the end of the room.

Happy he’ll be away from me, I turn my attention to my patient as I paint a smile on my face. It’s best to look as though I know what I’m doing.

“Miss Anyan, you will tend to the major,” the doctor suddenly says.

I whip my head up in shock.

“What? But I have a patient already!”

“I’ve assessed your diagnosis skills. I would like to see how you tend a wound, too.”

I gawk at him. What?

“But—”

“Here, Miss Anyan!” Vitry calls out to me, beckoning me toward him with his hand as if I were a dog.

I scowl at him.

“Off you go, Miss Anyan,” the doctor says absentmindedly before he turns his back to me and heads to the next bed.

Mumbling a string of curses under my breath, I trudge my way toward Vitry’s bed. How can I be so unlucky to have to heal the man I ought to kill—not that I can actually kill him since it’sforbidden, though I suppose I might inflict some damage. It’s his fault I need a job, food, and a place to sleep.

It’s all his damn fault.

And now he wants me to patch his wound?

Oh, just you wait and see, you insufferable male.

“Miss Anyan, huh?” He raises a brow at me as I reach his bedside.

He’s sprawled on the bed, his big frame making it seem like a child’s bed.

I ignore him and gather some antiseptic, bandage, and some needle and thread. I read about this in the textbook, and luckily for him, I’m not too bad at needlework.

Oh well, just for him, I will be bad at it.

“Nothing to say?” he continues.

I shrug.

“Hmm.” He closes his eyes and wrinkles his nose. “I can smell some beef. I wonder where that’s coming from.” He smirks.

I glare at him.

His gaze slowly drops to my bag.

The gall of him!

“Let’s look at your wound,” I say and pull on his sleeve harshly.

The rapid movement startles him, and I note a twitch of pain in his cheek. But the same lazy smile from before quickly replaces it.

“Of course, Nurse Anyan. Anything for you,” he murmurs, the last sentence whispered in a very…inappropriate tone.

I swallow and give him another harsh look as I place my fingers on the edge of his gash and press.

He can feel the pain, I am sure. But he’s not making a sound.

---