Page 48 of Healer
“The bastards wanted to see if they could reverse the effects of the Garoot Healer on humans,” I said through gritted teeth. The only thing that kept me from screaming in frustrationwas the memory of the Ulkommanian’s face, smug pride fading as I snapped his neck.
“It appears they succeeded,” Siereita murmured, stroking her fingers through Agnes’ silver strands. “The question is why? Most Ulkommanian research on humans deals with making them better slaves.”
My eyes followed the foray of Siereita’s fingers, taking in the lines etched around Anges’ eyes and mouth. I knew this was how she looked on Earth… before the Trogvyk took her. Despite the visible signs of age and illness, an undeniable beauty radiated from within her, the most stunning female I’d ever laid my eyes upon.
My mate.
“Are all humans like this when they are old?” Siereita asked, a tone of sadness in her voice.
“No.” I ran a finger down Agnes’ cheek, my heart shredding further as she grimaced in pain. “Agnes is sick. Very sick. I can heal her once we get aboard the Bardaga, but until then.... My gaze flitted over to the gray box lying atop the dresser. “If I can get the Medi-unit working, I might be able to relieve her pain.”
“I have some tea that might help.” The Ntavian suggested.
“Get it, please.” I would try anything to afford Agnes some relief.
Siereita’s hand landed softly on my shoulder, only lingering momentarily before her hurried footsteps faded into the surrounding stillness.
On the bed, Agnes writhed, her breath coming in ragged, panted gasps, each one a desperate grasp for air. Her chest heaved, and her skin glistened with beads of sweat, hinting at the intense effort she exerted just to breathe. Beneath the dampness, her skin felt clammy and cool to the touch, a stark contrast to her cheeks, which flushed a feverish red. The acridbitterness of fear and the sharp scent of pain overshadowed her usual floral fragrance.
My chest tightened, worry becoming a physical ailment—a pain that felt like an invisible blade stabbing the organ again and again.
I dipped a soft cloth into the basin of cold water that Siereita thoughtfully placed on the bedside table. Carefully, worried the lightest contact might cause pain, I touched the chilled fabric to Agnes’ feverish skin. She released a moan from between slightly parted lips, a sound less like a cry of pain and more like a sigh of relief. Moving as soothingly as possible, I trailed the cool cloth over her delicate skin, eliciting small twitches and spasms from her muscles. I meticulously wiped every inch of her body with a feather touch, taking breaks only to rinse and re-dampen the cloth.
“Sorry.”
The word barely escaped her lips. A faint sound carried on a fragile breath. I lifted my gaze from where the cloth hovered over her legs to meet her piercing stare. Her gray eyes appeared sharp and focused, although tinged with pain and fear. But beyond that, in the depths of those eyes, I saw Agnes—my Aggie—shining with brilliance and courage despite her current state.
“Sorry,” she repeated, her face scrunched as though it took an exhausting effort to speak.
“Why are you sorry, my Aggie?” I rinsed the cloth, trailing it over her forehead.
Her hand twitched and shook, lifting toward her face as tears gathered behind her lashes.
“Burden.”
Her greatest fear.
A fear so powerful it made her question the point of life itself. I hadn’t understood her fear earlier, but now it lay in my soul… a heavy stone I could neither move nor ignore. Alongsideit another fear just as powerful, but for a completely different reason, twisted and groaned.
What if I could not heal her?
No.
I would not let myself consider that outcome.
I couldn’t.
Once we rendezvoused with the Bardaga, the greatest technology in existence would be at my disposal. Not to mention assistance from my apprentice Tarkas and the young Garoot my War Chief and his mate rescued.
I would heal my Aggie.
Until then, I would not leave her side.
“Burden.”
The word came again, smothered in regret.
“No.” I slipped to my knees beside the bed, meeting her gaze. How could I convey to Agnes that she was my greatest privilege and source of happiness. No matter what our future held, she would never, ever be a burden to me.
