Page 114 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
Her amethyst eyes seemed to pierce through Maseo as she continued. “Sometimes salvation wears the mask of destruction. Auslin’s greatest gift to you may not be what his hands can mend, but what his courage can unmake.”
Kitsuki furrowed his brow at his sister’s cryptic words. “What do you mean?”
She studied Maseo with an expression that seemed to see far beyond his surface wounds. “Your journey is far from over, Maseo. Auslin will understand when the time comes. His nature makes him uniquely suited to offer what you will need most. Only with his help can you find the redemption you deserve.”
Kitsuki frowned, his expression resolute. “Then we will leave immediately. Every hour counts if there is any chance of reversing the damage.”
“It is not safe for either of you to travel tonight,” Kizoshi countered, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You have both endured an ordeal that would have broken lesser men. Let the healer tend to Maseo, then you can leave at first light. It will still take you more than a week to return home if you fly as a dragon. I assure you, an extra night of rest will not threaten his life.”
“Then we shall depart at dawn.”
“Your Majesty, Healer Santhia has arrived,” the guard announced.
Kizoshi stepped back with a knowing smile that held both sadness and hope. “Remember that the greatest victories are often won not by those who refuse to fall, but by those who choose how to rise.” She gave a satisfied nod. “We will leave you to your treatment, Maseo. Uncle and I have much to discuss regarding the transition in Kunushi.”
As they left, the healer entered, carrying a basket of supplies. “I am Healer Santhia,” she introduced herself with a respectful bow. “Auramancer Lirienne sent me to apply poultices to your wounds and provide pain relief.”
Maseo nodded his acknowledgment, very aware of Kitsuki’s continued presence in the tent. He had expected the king to leave with his sister and uncle to attend to the countless matters requiring his attention after such a momentous victory. Instead, Kitsuki moved to stand near the head of the bed as the healer sorted through her supplies.
“I will start with your eye, if I may,” Santhia said, removing a small clay pot from her basket. “This poultice contains herbs that will reduce inflammation and provide some relief. It will sting, but that sensation should give way to numbness soon.”
Maseo steeled himself as she examined his injury. “The necromantic energy has caused extensive damage, but this should help with the pain.”
As she dipped her fingers into the greenish paste, Kitsuki moved closer, resting his hand on Maseo’s shoulder in silent support. The warm and reassuring weight gave Maseo something else to focus on besides the hurt.
The first touch of the poultice against his ruined eye sent lightning flashing through him, so intense that his entire bodywent rigid with the effort not to scream. It felt as though molten metal was being poured into his brain, every nerve ending in his face catching fire at once. Kitsuki’s hand tightened on his shoulder, grounding him as she continued to apply the medicine with gentle, efficient movements.
“Remember to breathe, Maseo,” Kitsuki murmured. “The pain will pass.”
Maseo forced himself to inhale deeply, then exhale slowly, repeating the pattern as the healer worked. True to her word, the burning turned to blessed numbness that spread outward from the wound, dulling the agony to a more manageable throb.
“There,” Santhia said, finishing with a bandage to secure the poultice in place. “I should warn you that the potent herbs can cause drowsiness.”
Maseo nodded in understanding, already feeling a slight heaviness settling over him as it took effect. The relief from the constant pain was so profound that he had to resist the urge to close his remaining eye and surrender to the beckoning darkness of sleep.
The healer moved on to his other wounds, applying similar poultices to his other injuries. Each application brought the same cycle of initial sharp pain followed by numbing relief until Maseo’s entire body felt wrapped in a cocoon of merciful detachment from his suffering.
“Please prepare additional poultices for our journey back to Tiora,” Kitsuki requested. “We leave at dawn.”
“I will make preparations at once, Your Majesty,” Santhia replied with a respectful bow. “I will deliver them to your tent later this evening.”
The concern in Kitsuki’s voice and his prioritization of Maseo’s well-being without hesitation sent a warm glow through Maseo’s chest. It was still strange to be treated with such consideration, to have his comfort matter to someone of Kitsuki’s status.
Santhia finished bandaging the last of Maseo’s wounds and then packed her supplies back into her basket. “Change the dressings every six hours. Rest is essential for your body to recover what strength it can, though the Divine and necromantic damage will require more specialized treatment than I can provide.”
“Thank you for your care,” Maseo said, feeling the herbs taking a stronger hold.
Santhia bowed. “It is an honor to serve the man who ended Nasume’s reign of terror. The entire camp speaks of your bravery, Lord Maseo.”
The title caught him off guard, and he blinked in confusion. Despite being a prince by birth, nobody ever addressed him with a title. He was a bastard with no claim to honor.
Before he could correct her, Santhia had already turned to Kitsuki and bowed again. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I will take my leave and return in a few hours to change the poultices.”
“Thank you, Healer Santhia,” Kitsuki replied with a regal nod. “Your service is appreciated.”
With a final bow, the healer departed, leaving Maseo alone with Kitsuki once more.
Maseo shifted, wincing as his bandaged wounds tugged despite the numbing effect of the poultices. “I should return to my tent,” he said, although the thought of leaving the comfort of Kitsuki’spresence made his heart sink. “You must have many matters requiring your attention now that the war is over.”
