Page 51 of The Healing Dragon
“This is perfect,” I say, thankful for the act of kindness.
“Well, go ahead and eat while I put these things away.”
I stand there eating while I watch Pad walk from side to side. He first puts away all the herbs sent by Isabel. Then he sets up items at different tables. When he doesn’t take out ingredients, I realize he is prepping the kitchen for tomorrow morning. Listening to him move about the room while I eat creates the most peaceful dinner experience I had in the past few weeks.
“Thank you,” I say when I’m done. I pick up after myself and drop the dirty dishes in the sink. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You are always welcome back here,” Pad says. “The best snacks are made after hours. Just not today. One day a week, everyone is done early.”
“Might be better this way. I don’t make many people comfortable.”
“You might not feel you have many friends. That might or might not be true. But you have far less enemies than you would think,” Pad says.
“I doubt that.”
I get many who avert their eyes as I walk by, but for every single one of those I have four who narrow their gaze at me like staring me down is their way of making their discontent with my presence known.
“People dislike what they can’t understand, but they also seek solace. They pity you more than they hate you. Then they hate you for making them pity you. We all heard whispers from those who actually saw you that night. The walls remember.”
“Remember what?” I ask.
“Remember the ghost of you that walked the halls.”
A fuzzy image of that night comes to mind, the way the shape of the walls would go in and out of my sight. The realization of what was happening as my senses came back to me and the horror at seeing what my fire snake was doing. The heartbeat in my chest feels loud in my ears. My lungs fill with smoke, but unlike anyone else, I don’t lose my breath and cough. Due to my bloodline, the smoke filters out like fresh air. That is when I finally made my first choice. I regret how I dissociated. I don’t fight back, nor do I ask my dragon to listen to me instead of Ray. I hide deep in the premises of my mind.
Coward.
I let Pad’s words sink in. “They pity me because they think I’m now stuck living with the reality of what I did.”
“Is it a lie?” Pad searches my eyes.
No, it’s not. Every day when I close my eyes, I can hear them. I can hear each voice above the cracking of the fire. Their feet hitting the ground trying to outrunme. Their screams are the lullaby that accompanies me every night as I lie on my pillow. I don’t want to describe it as a haunting sound because I have accepted it. It reminds me of my purpose and all the work I have left to undo what was done. I cannot bring those people back, but I can keep many from following after them if I stop my father and the movement he has created.
I snap myself from my thoughts and thank Pad for the food.
“Like you said I got places to be,” I say and grab the basket.
He gives me a small wave before returning to his task.
The halls are empty and the reason for that is obvious as I walk past multiple windows. Clusters of people are walking about the grounds. The warmth of the sun and chilly air from the mountains are mixing to perfection. I allow myself one glance before returning to my task.
There are a few people moving around the clinic, but make themselves scarce as I cross the threshold inside.
“Hello there.” A young woman greets me from across the room. She is sitting behind a desk looking over papers.
I recognize her instantly as the castle’s head of the clinic. Amy Bee is hard to miss with her mismatched eye color and loud personality. She would always accompany the late King on visits to other regions once his health started to decay. At least that was the observation my father had made countless times. It was almost as if it served as a beam of hope to the rebellion. Her presence symbolized a weaker King and with that came the opportunity for attack.
“I came to deliver these,” I say, lifting the basket higher.
She gestures for me to come forward. I drop the basket on her desk and she quickly empties it out, looking at the different bags Isabel sent over.
“She clearly sends what she wants,” Amy Bee says under her breath, more to herself than me. “She obviously doesn’tknow what she is doing there. I’m guessing the shortage in staff means this is what we have to get used to, regardless of inconvenience.”
So there’s a person who doesn’t think Isabel walks on water. Now, I’m intrigued.
“Would you like me to tell her to stop by so you can explain what she missed?” I ask.
She shakes her head instantly. “Absolutely not.” At my pause, she looks up at me and softens her harsh expression. “That is absurd. You are already here.” She takes a notepad from her desk and then writes down a list.
