Page 12 of A Balm of Healing
“I tried to save as many lives as possible.” He frowned as he recalled with perfect clarity all of the lives he had not been able to save. Some were only children. “The council often outvoted me. But I did my best to help my people.”
A breath trembled from his lungs as she placed her hands on his hips before nodding and placing the paper flowers back into the vase. “They were lucky to have you. From what it seems, you did a lot of good.”
“I’m also good with my hands,” he blurted but inwardly cringed, silently berating himself for his large gap in courting experience. To rectify his words, he said, “I’m a bone carver. I make tools and instruments and other trinkets. If I ever get the chance, I would sell my wares across the seven kingdoms.”
The smile she gave him warmed his insides until he feared he might be catching another fever—the fever of infatuation.
“I would like to see your carvings.”
She started to stand, but he grasped her elbow to keep her by his side. For just one more moment. “I’ve told you nearly my entire life’s history. Just tell me one thing. If you can dothis,” he gestured to his legs, “then why in autumn’s glory are you sleeping in alleyways in the middle of winter?”
A long sigh escaped her as she stood and placed the vase back onto the bedside table. “My mother died when I was young, and my father…he turned to gambling and drinking and more gambling. He was…unkind.”
Abusive, her expression said instead as she winced.
She continued, “At the first opportunity, I left home to study the art of healing, and I never looked back. At least until I learned of my father’s death and a debt collector came to…collect.”
“Autumns…” he murmured, guessing the rest.
“I sold his house, all his belongings, many of mine, too. But I was left with very little in the end.” Her gaze became far away as if she were somewhere other than the present. “All of my years of hard work, and all it accounted for was taking on my father’s blasted debt.” She winced. “Forgive me for my language.”
“Believe me, I’ve heard far worse from Bastien.” He chuckled but then quickly sobered. “I feel awful for turning you away when we met. If I had known…”
“It’s all right,” she reassured. “The massive debt knocked me down a peg, but this is only temporary before I get another job and get back on my feet.” She stood behind him and placed her arms beneath his armpits. “On the count of three, I’m going to lift you back onto the bed. Ready?”
“No.” But he gritted his teeth and braced himself as she counted down, and in a single, strong heave, she maneuvered him to the bed and helped him sit back against the pillows. “Surely, this isn’t necessary.”
“Just a couple more days,” she promised. “Then we can begin strengthening your muscles.”
He swallowed, not daring to hope but hoping anyway. “For what?”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “For walking, Emeric. You are going to walk again.”
Chapter Six
Torture. Frustration. Discouragement. But overall, hope.
Emeric received Gweneth’s help with strengthening his legs over the next several weeks, first while lying on the bed, and then from his chair. And although his frustration vexed him with how weak his legs were, he knew this would take some time.
He only wished it didn’t have to take so long. Gweneth could heal his bones. But she couldn’t use her magic to build his muscles.
A grunt escaped his mouth as he rested both feet against the wall from where he sat in his chair. Gweneth held the chair from behind, putting weight against him, which he fought hard to resist with his shaking legs.
“Autumn’s glory, woman!” he cried. “You are putting me through hell and back.”
She chuckled somewhere near his ear but continued to hold the chair steady. “Just one more, Em.”
“You said that five wall squats ago.”
His legs shook more as he put all of his lower strength into his legs, and with one final push, he managed to straighten both legs before they collapsed from the wall and hit the ground with a thud.
Heavy breaths of exertion escaped him as he leaned back in the chair to rest after the laborious exercise. He wanted to lie down for several days after the torture he’d just endured, but he knew he would only walk again if he put in the effort.
But oh, how it pained him.
“I have not seen anyone come to visit you in the past weeks,” Gweneth said slowly as she moved to straighten the pillows on the sofa, which were already straight enough. “I thought Nyana lived in the city.”
“She does.” He frowned as he massaged his legs from his ankles to his knees. “I already mentioned our relationship is strained.”
