Her eyes opened, assessing me, the situation, and understanding settled into her. She could not do it on her own, but she wasn’t powerless either, she just needed a boost. When I saw her indication of approval, I sat on the edge of her bed, getting as close as I could to her.

  “I am going to lean over you, and you can put your arm around my neck. Don’t worry about hurting me, I’m strong too. Though undoubtedly far less than you.” I winked at her, trying to put her at ease. Her lip twitched ever so slightly, but it was there, a hint of a smile that she quickly hid. Good, that was good. Someone who could smile under the kind of stress her body was in would do well in healing, the spirit was the strongest tool a body had.

  I did as I said and leaned myself over her, planting my arm on the wall behind her head. She tentatively lifted her good arm and moved it around my neck. It hovered over me, not yet touching any part of me. I looked down, meeting her eyes. Our faces were close, almost intimately so, and she seemed terrified at our nearness. No...there was something else in her eyes too, I couldn’t quite place it.

  “Either you hold me, or I’ll have to hold you. We need to give your body the fuel it requires, and after we get something in your stomach I can give you something to relieve the pain, okay?” Her eyes floated down and focused on my lips as I talked. I felt a flush building up in me at the direction of her attention. Her arm came down over me, clutching to me at last, pushing the distraction away. I braced myself as I felt her muscles tighten. She lifted her own body off the bed, and I slowly drew back with her holding on to me, careful not to touch her besides where her arm gripped around me. She was sitting straight up, her body trembled and I could feel her heart racing with the effort. As she held onto me, I maneuvered the pillows behind her, reaching to the other side of the bed to grab the extras. I stacked them two-high, and helped ease her back against them. Once she was settled, she drew her arm back from me quickly as if she couldn’t stand touching me any longer than necessary.

  Something about the way she seemed shy and awkward, avoiding eye contact with me now, told me that that had been closer than she had been to anyone in a long time. To calm whatever thoughts or embarrassment she had racing through her mind, I grabbed the mug of broth and held it in front of her.

  “Do you think you can hold the cup? I have a reed you can use to drink it, or I can spoon it for you?” She reached out for the cup. As I thought. I placed the reed into the drink, and she pulled it close enough to her, opening her mouth slowly, carefully, and placed her lips around the reed. She slurped in and sighed. Her belly roared at the eagerness of getting something in its vast emptiness.

  I could see some of the tension ease from her, knowing she could do something for herself. Some of the helplessness that she had felt, even just a moment before drifted away. “I know you are starving, but go easy, don’t drink too fast. You haven’t had anything for two days, and I don’t want it to hit your empty belly and come right back out.”

  She took my words to heart as she slowed her slurping, no longer inhaling the soup. Quiet settled between us. A quiet I spent a lot of time in with patients. It was one of too many thoughts, too many what-ifs, too many worries pulsing and storming inside of someone. Harla clutched her cup to her chest as if it were a lifeboat in a sea that tossed her about.

  I sat back in my chair, giving her a little more room, but I still watched her carefully. I had a bucket nearby, just in case her stomach rebelled, but so far she seemed to be doing alright.

  “I never knew my parents.” I started, much as I had done so many times. Her eyes flicked to mine in surprise, but I pressed on.

  I continued telling my story, as I had told it to the prince at his father’s bedside recently. The reasons I told it were two-fold. One, as a distraction to the injured or ill, or to the loved ones who waited and drowned in fear and worry. Two, to reveal my passion and dedication to the medical craft, that each person I worked on was important and I would do whatever I needed to see them better. If I was being honest with myself, there was a third reason, to remove the power it held. All the things that got swept under the table, the illnesses and conditions that people wanted to pretend didn’t happen, or that could be prayed away or fixed with well wishes. There were real things that had real solutions and treatments, and maybe not everything could be cured, but it could be understood and aided perhaps. I did not, however, tell my story for pity or attention.

  Harla

  I found myself captivated, so much so that the reed fell away from my lips and I just watched her, taking in her story. Her words floated between us, soft but sure. Calm and confident, it was a strange yet alluring mixture of tragedy and determination. She stopped talking long enough to point at the cup in my hands, her attention ever on me. Once I lifted the cup again, catching the reed with my lips and drawing in another mouthful of broth, she continued.

  Danna talked of how her mother had fallen ill of mind after she had given birth. Her father had sought help from the only affordable person he could. But the medicine he bought to cast away the “spirits” that haunted her mother only made her worse. In the end, it took the lives of both her parents.

  With every word she spoke, my own body, the cage that trapped me faded. I was swept away, carried on the stream of stories that flowed from her. I could picture her as a young girl ignoring the foolish games of children, studying herbs and medicinal plants. I imagined this tiny fair child indoors, hunched over a book in the light of a window, instead of outside in the sun romping and playing. Danna had never gotten to be young and carefree, always driven to ensure that what happened to her mother, to her parents, wouldn’t happen to anyone else. She found her purpose while she was still young and worked hard to achieve it.

  I respected that, a lot. Somewhere deep within me, if I searched hard enough, there was a glimpse of myself as a carefree child. Every time I sought the memory, it ran from me. A wisp, constantly teasing, letting me near, then leaping away from me yet again. The memories that took its place were far from that innocent and naive child I had been once. I hadn’t had a purpose that drove me, other than survival. I didn’t run to play with others, I ran to live. I fought through every day just to see the next. Danna fought in a different way, to see others make it to the next day.

  I found myself wanting to respond, wanting to say things that had never crossed my lips before. I moved to set my cup down, my hand itching to write the words I couldn’t say, to which she shook her head.

  “Nope, you need to finish that whole cup, and then I will happily give you whatever it is you were going to reach for.” Her tone was soft yet firm, not letting anything get in the way of her current task, and I respected that too. I felt my lips twitch once more, a smile wanting to tug at the tightness around my mouth. The things I had ached to say, the response I wanted to share, I tucked them away for now. Comfort came over me, both physically and mentally. Her light voice settled over me and started to fill me as the soup began to fill my belly.

  Chapter 5

  Danna

  Harla was worn, I could see it, no matter how much she tried to hide it. The cup was getting heavier in her hand, and her arm wobbled as it continued to hold it in place. I reached over and slid her fingers off of it. Her hand dropped to her side. I tilted the cup to see what was left, and was happy to see only a few drops at the bottom, it would be hard to get those using the reed. It was enough for now.

  I could see her straining to keep her eyes open. She may not have been awake for long, but she wasn’t going to last much longer. I grabbed a dark bottle from the bedside table and pulled the cork out.

  “Commander Harla, I am going to give you something to help you with the pain. And before I see you shake your head, this is not an option, nor is it weakness. If we can ease your discomfort, your body’s attention can remain concentrated on healing, it can advance instead of simply maintain. If you want to be up and back on your feet sooner, then you need to use every tool available to help make that happen. Do you understand?”

  She closed her eyes and breathed deep before indicating her agreement. It was hard for her, I could see it. Harla guarded herself carefully, her physical strength was important to her, a security blanket that protected what was underneath. A blanket that had clearly been in place for a long time, so much that it had woven itself into her very being.

  I poured a spoonful and held my hand under it as I brought it near her mouth. She hesitated for a moment, an internal struggle, but opened slightly at last. Harla winced at the bitterness, but took it all down. I repeated the motion one more time, giving her a second dose. I had made a strong batch for her, but I still needed to address her wounds, and it wouldn’t be pleasant now that she was conscious enough to notice.

  “Commander Harla,” I said her title with her name again. I wasn’t sure how she felt about being addressed casually, but I also used her title to honor her and remind her that the condition she was currently in didn’t take away from what she has accomplished or who she was. “I know you are getting tired and I don’t want you to fight it. It’s your body’s way of giving you an order, one that you should comply with. I do, however, need to clean and re-dress your arm and leg. If I get someone in here to help me, we can be done faster and let you rest sooner.”

  Her eyes widened despite the exhaustion that tried to pull them down. Panic flashed in them and her head turned from side to side. Her hand scrambled quickly over the journal under her hand. She tapped the pencil on the journal to emphasize the loose cursive sketched on the paper. No one else. Just you.

  “Okay. If that is what you would prefer, it’s not a problem. Though I am sorry it will take me longer on my own, but I will go as quickly as I am comfortable. I’m here with you, alright?” Another scribble and tap on the journal and I smiled at her when I read the two words.

  It was a big job for one person, but it didn’t matter. Harla was warming up to me, beginning to feel comfortable around me, trusting me even, and that was something that I felt was difficult for her to do. If I could relieve any stress or nerves she had simply by staying, by working alone, it was an easy decision. Her care and treatment would be my only focus, even if it meant I remained by her side night and day.

  I brought the chair around to the other side of the bed to focus on the injured limbs. I carefully removed the bandages wrapped around her arm. Beneath the fabric strips were large leaves that acted as a protective barrier between the tender and raw skin beneath and the fabric. It also helped trap in moisture to keep the skin from drying and cracking, and kept out any dirt or grime. Though her burns were far worse on her arm and leg, the leaves had done their job. It was a newer procedure, one I had read about in a medic’s journal from the Fourth Realm. Unlike the bandage on Harla’s face that had adhered slightly to the flesh beneath it, the leaves peeled away smoothly.

  Most patients that I worked on, kept their eyes turned from their wounds, not willing or able to watch what was being done to them, or the wounds that were being treated. Harla, however, never looked away. Not even when I warned her about having to scrape away any of the dead skin to help prevent infection. Burns were the worst to treat, it seemed counter-productive to scrape and peel on raw skin, but if left behind, it could easily fester. Burned flesh was ripe breeding grounds for infection and had to be cared for with extreme diligence.

  Though she had the aid of the strong medicine I had given her, I was amazed that she remained awake through the entire procedure. That she managed to refrain from flinching after the first pluck of dead skin astounded me. Once I was done debriding, it was time to clean and re-dress the wound. I had poured water into a bowl from a pot that had been boiled to sterilize it, ensuring I wasn’t adding any new hazards to the exposed and raw flesh. I tested the temperature, it was warm but not too hot. The skin was too tender for any sort of extreme temperature.

  Through everything Harla watched me do, she turned her head at last as I carefully washed the skin I had been working on. She didn’t shake or cry, it didn’t seem to be pain that pushed her over the edge, but perhaps the unavoidable intimacy of the act. I had seen a wide variety of reactions by patients being washed that ranged from embarrassment to arousal, which then cycled back to mortification. It was an act that was necessary and medical still, but it felt different to the person being cleaned, something normally reserved for private moments. In the days I had spent checking in on Harla, and now staying with her since she had awakened, she had not shed a tear, not in fear, nor in pain. I saw her swipe at her eye with her good hand and that action gutted me.

  “I’m sorry, I am nearly done, but I must be sure everything is cleaned well before covering your wounds again.” Her eyes were squeezed tight with her hand resting over them, and her head turned as far away from me as possible without pulling at the tightness in her neck and face.

  “It’s...okay.” Harla forced the words out through gritted teeth, barely a whisper, but clearly she needed to say it. I didn’t know if she said the words for herself, or for me, but I continued working, this time not filling the silence as I often did. I understood she needed to disconnect, to distance herself as far from what I was doing as possible. Me speaking at that moment wouldn’t bring her comfort as it had earlier when she slowly drank her broth and listened to me ramble on.

  With the worst of it out of the way, I quietly and quickly covered the clean wounds with the honey and aloe blend. New clean leaves were applied next, wrapping around and covering the burned flesh. Lastly, clean strips of bandages wound around, covering every part of the burns. After assessing and feeling confident that everything was secured properly, I moved my eyes up to the side of her face. With her head turned away, it gave me a really clear view of the injured cheek and neck. Harla really had been lucky, the wounds there were nothing like the ones on the rest of her body. Blisters and scrapes more than anything.

  Now that she was conscious, I couldn’t see wrapping her face again. Harla would fight me on that for sure. While I normally didn’t care how much a person fought, if I knew it was the best thing for them, I couldn’t do it to her. Besides, if she were careful, she may not need the bandage.

  “Commander Harla?” I asked in a light tone. She slowly lifted her hand away from her face and lowered it back down. Harla turned toward me slightly. There was new hurt in her eyes, hurt that was different than the pain that lingered beneath. Something surged within me, a need to protect this powerful woman, that went beyond my purpose as her caregiver. This woman who could withstand great physical pain, who had worked her way to a position that had never been filled by a woman, had nearly crumbled under the act of being washed by another person. I tried to hide the sympathy I felt building up in me for whatever it was that had hurt her in the past and haunted her still. I knew she would hate me, hate herself, if she saw it in my eyes.

  “I’m going to clean your face now, but it won’t be as bad. In fact, as long as you can control yourself and keep from touching it, I think I can leave it uncovered. You don’t appear to have any open wounds at this time. But if you irritate it and pop those blisters open, I will have no choice but to bandage it once more to protect it. Do you think you can handle that?”

  I saw relief in her, relief that she wouldn’t be bound and blinded once more. Resolve came with it too, she firmed her jaw and tilted her head up in a promise that she would fight against every impulse to touch the scabbed and blistered skin. She would do whatever she had to do to keep from having her face bandaged.

  With fresh water, a mild soap, and a clean towel, I gently worked circles over the skin, careful not to apply too much pressure. I coated the skin in a thick balm, one that would stay in place and not drip. When I was done, I leaned in a little closer, so that my head was next to hers, but out of her eye line.

  “Thank you for trusting me.” I whispered, before pulling back, not waiting for a response. I had a feeling she wouldn’t know how to respond to that anyway, but I had needed to say it.

  I busied myself with gathering the dirty bandages and cleaning up the supplies I had used. Though I didn’t leave the room, I gave her the time and space she needed, letting her feel in charge of her own body after taking that control away from her momentarily. I would glance her way on occasion. She kept her eyes closed the whole time, but I could see the change from the turmoil that pressed from within, to the slow and steady breaths as she drifted deeper into the sleep that her body needed.

  Good, I thought to myself. Just sleep, Harla. I’ll be here watching over you. I promise to keep you safe. With her soundly sleeping, I let my eyes wander over her, taking in that lovely rich umber skin. She had always been a powerful woman, and even though I had seen a glimpse of something I was certain she didn’t let anyone else see, it only added to my admiration I had for her. She was an overcomer, a conqueror, a warrior in all rights. I pulled my thoughts and my eyes away. I shook my head, trying to cast off the stirring that was building in me. Harla was my patient, nothing more.

  I opened the door to find a servant and Cael, the young, inexperienced medic waiting. Cael had likely been instructed to assist me however I needed. He looked a little better than he had when he first showed up at my door, but he still paled as he watched me for any indication of what he would be expected to do.

  I handed the bowl of dirty water and bandages to the servant. “Please see these are cleaned and boiled well. I’d like more broth and hot water brought. Can you have someone sent to my home and fetch the bag that is on my table? I will also be in need of a change of clothes, no dresses please, a tunic and pants will do.” The servant dipped his head and left to take care of my orders.

  I turned my attention to Cael, who fidgeted and twiddled his fingers in the edge of his shirt. Over time, we would see if he would be able to conquer the nerves to do what was needed as a medic, but for now, it was his lucky day.

  “Cael, will you please inform the other medics that I will be Commander Harla’s primary caregiver. She has requested that I stay with her.” His body stilled immediately and he stood taller with relief that he wouldn’t yet have to face the burns that had scarred him at first sight.

 

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