Stars of Fortune(44)
She did, and the horrible, gripping pressure eased. “Yes, that’s better. That’s better,” she repeated, and nudged his hands aside. “Thank you.”
“You’ve cuts and scrapes and bruises, and a puncture or two. The salve alone will do for that, but this gash needs more. Annika did a fine—what do they call it?—field dressing. She’s an array of disparate talents. Let me feel it.
“Yes, it’s hot, and it throbs.” And would scar if he couldn’t fix it. It surprised him how the thought of that upset him. “But it’s clean. Nothing to fester here.”
“How do you know?”
“You know, and I can see what you know here. Help me cool it now, help me close it.”
She lost herself in his eyes. It occurred to her later he must have taken her into some light trance, but her feelings seemed to touch his, like fingertips, and the heat of her arm cooled.
“That’s good now, that’s fine. And the salve will do the rest right enough.”
A little dazed, she looked down to see the gash closed, and no more than a long scrape remaining.
“But, that’s—”
“Magick?” he suggested. “It’s healing, and you’re doing most of the work. What about your leg? You’re favoring the right one.”
“I don’t know. I must have twisted or turned my ankle in the cave. When the bats . . .”
“We won’t think of them now.” He crouched, skimmed his hands over her ankle, eased back when she flinched. “Tender, is it? We’ll fix it.”
She understood now, let him in. Imagined the swelling, the tendons and muscles while his fingers circled and stroked.
Then he rose. “Your throat, that’s the worst of it, and the hardest. She touched you.”
“She didn’t. Not physically.”
“And that’s the deepest wound, you see? Her power against ours. I think it will hurt to heal this, at first. You have to trust me.”
“Then I will. For this.”
“Keep your eyes on mine. I don’t have what you have, but what I have will help you lift this away.”
He closed his hands lightly, gently, around her throat, covering the raw bruises.
It did hurt. A sudden shock of pain stole her breath, had her gripping the side of the bed to hold herself in place. She fought not to cry out—weak, weak—but a moan escaped.
“I’m sorry. A little more.”
He murmured in Irish now, words that meant nothing to her, but the tone, both comfort and distress, helped her bear it. Then, as the rest, it eased. The relief made her head spin.
“It’s better.”
“It needs to be gone. I won’t leave her mark on you. I should have stopped it.”
“You did. With blinding bolts of lightning. That’s enough. It doesn’t hurt.”
She shifted away, stood. “You should take the salve for the others.”
“That’s for you. I have more.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed. We all have a lot to talk about.”
“We do.” But he stood where he was, waited.
“You lied to me.”
“I never did.”
“The absence of truth—”
“Isn’t always a lie. Sometimes it’s just personal business.”
“I told you everything about me, everything I knew, and you . . . What are you? A warlock?”
He winced, had to struggle not to be insulted. “Some will insist on turning that word away from its origin—which is one who does evil, even the devil—and making into a man with powers. I’ll take witch, even sorcerer, but I prefer magician, which is what I told you when we met.”
Accusations, and worse, much worse, disappointed hurt lived in her eyes.
“You know what I thought you meant.”
“I do, and there’s an absence there. Still, I do stage magic to make a living and to entertain myself. And my blood, my craft, my gift, and my honor is in white magicks. But it’s considerable to share with someone who doesn’t trust her own gifts, fáidh. What would your reaction have been, I wonder, if I’d shown you more than a bit of sleight of hand at first?”
“I don’t know.”
“My family keeps our bloodline to ourselves, not out of shame, but caution. I can wish now I’d been able to show you what I am, who I am, in its entirety, in a less dramatic way, but Nerezza took the choice out of my hands.”
“She meant to drain me.”
“I never anticipated, and for that . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t plan it better, or find a better way. But I can’t be sorry for what I am, or for waiting until I felt there was real trust before I told you, or the others.”