Page 11 of The Physician's Barbarian
He flushed bright red and ducked his head, which told me all I needed to know. Finn had been innocent before bonding with my brother. He was shy when discussing anything sexual, even two years later.
“You do not want to do the same?”
He shook his head quickly, focusing entirely too hard on his brushing. The stallion flicked him with his tail, urging him gently to settle. Coming up beside him, I put my hand on his shoulder, lifting my eyebrows when he finally got the courage to look up at me.
“I-I want it to be special… We do that all the time,” he admitted shyly.
I had to twist my lips to hide my grin, and I didn’t do a very good job of it. He saw and made a pained sound, his ears turning a startling shade of red like they always did whenever he spoke with me about intimacy. He trusted me to speak about such things, but that didn’t make it much easier on him.
Pursing my lips, I thought about his request. “Have you thought to make him something? Did you not say you wished to make him a pendant?”
He winced. “I’m trying… I’m really bad at it. I cut myself twice already.”
He showed me his hands, which had two bandages I hadn’t noticed before. I winced right along with him.
“Perhaps carving isn’t the best idea, then. What about using clay? Simon can teach you how.”
He perked up at that. Making clay would be safer than having him continue to attempt to carve if he wasn’t skilled at it. And he and Simon were friends, last I checked. I’d seen them togetherduring clan gatherings. Many of the male tributes seemed to gather together. Perhaps they understood each other better than others.
My mind strayed to Ambrose. I wasn’t sure if there were other male tributes in the Ilvos clan, but I hoped there were, for his sake. While males were becoming more common, they weren’t the majority of tributes even now. According to Patrick, most males interested in other males were too afraid to be truthful about such things. The towns would treat them poorly or even jail them if they found out. In his old town, they would put them to the noose, which was horrific. I wished there was a way to protect them. No one should be forced to live in denial of their desires their whole lives just to stay safe.
It was probably the same for Ambrose. It would explain his shy eagerness the night prior. It made me want to show him more. At least before he left I could spend time with him, show him what he’d been missing. Perhaps then it would make my stomach feel less sour when it was time for him to go.
Eight
AMBROSE
After checking in with the patients Zoya was worried about, I was led to the healer’s tent and shown what they had for healing. It wasn’t much, which didn’t really surprise me, but at least they had what I wanted to help my patients.
“Are there many physicians in your town?” Zoya asked as she helped me prepare the tinctures and a salve for one of the elders with a rash.
I snorted, shaking my head. “Only one other. He’s a fool, but popular with most of the town. He has a better bedside manner than me.”
I shot her a sheepish grimace when she raised an eyebrow at me. “I’ve been told I’m short with my patients. I wouldn’t be if they just listened and followed my instructions. Bentley doesn’t push if a patient is against a treatment.” I rolled my eyes as I ground the leaves of the plant I knew would ease the patient’s pain. Zoya followed along well, showing she had a strong base knowledge of healing, and only asked questions when I addedthings she hadn’t considered mixing. “More often than not, if the problem is serious, they end up in my clinic anyway. Bedside manner is secondary to good care in my opinion.”
Zoya didn’t bother to hide her smile. “A little firmness is good, I think. Some elders think they don’t need help, that they’re too tough to ever get sick.”
I was familiar with the behavior. Hopefully, they wouldn’t stop me from doing my job when I got pushy about treatment. I didn’t want to sit around all day waiting for Godr to?—
The reminder of what happened last night flashed through my head, and I felt my cheeks warm. No, I wasn’t anyone’s bed warmer, no matter how much I enjoyed it. Not that I had. It was only a normal bodily reaction to being touched like that. That was it. I tried not to sigh at how little I convinced even myself.
“Did you just add thimbleberry to that?” Zoya queried, pulling my attention back to her.
Grateful for the distraction, I nodded. “Yes. It sweetens it, makes it easier to swallow, and doesn’t change the effectiveness. I originally added it for children, but it works well on adults, too.”
“I always worried about changing the recipes,” she murmured as she watched me grind the berries with the rest. “I wasn’t a healer before I came here. I’ve learned everything from the women who came before me. I was never confident enough to change things.”
I nodded. “It took a long time before I was willing to deviate as well, and I went to school for this. They always say not to change what works, but it became increasingly difficult for people to consume the tincture. A little sweetness goes a long way with difficult patients, in my experience.”
Zoya was a diligent student, asking questions as we prepared what we needed. I’d made a few tweaks to age-old recipes years ago, and there had been new discoveries in healing that shehadn’t been aware of. I was happy to show them to someone who might find them useful. Zoya explained while I worked that the clan healers were originally tributes who worked as nurses or physician’s assistants and passed down their knowledge to more tributes as they joined the clans. Sometimes a new tribute would join with more knowledge and add to their teachings, and their recipes would be shared amongst the other clans. They helped each other, growing their knowledge together, and I was pleased to be part of that, even if I wasn’t a woman.
When we brought the medicines to the elders who needed it, they all seemed pleased with the results. All but someone Zoya called Maman.
She crossed her arms defiantly, glaring at me while she spoke in the barbarian language to Zoya. Zoya kept trying to coax her to drink the tincture, to help with the cough she said hadn’t gone away in weeks, despite the clan’s best efforts to help her. Their usual methods weren’t working, and my recipe was a newer discovery. Maman outright refused to drink it.
“Maybe if it wasn’t coming from me?” I suggested. Some patients were only comfortable with their primary physician. I’d lost track of the number of patients who didn’t trust me after having seen Bentley for so long. It took a lot of work for them to accept I was there to help them.
Zoya sighed. “I’m not sure it matters. She says she doesn’t need it. She’ll heal on her own.” She pursed her lips, then narrowed her eyes. “I think I know someone who can convince her, though. Come with me.”
