WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of medical procedures involving blood. Please read at your own discretion.
Eight
The following day, I awoke to a gentle but stubbornly-persistent knocking sound. My head spun as I rose from the depths of the black bed linens to glare in the direction of the doors across the room. Although the shadowy barrier Aleksander had left behind as a reminder of his power—of himself—still obscured them, I knew the sound had come from out in the hallway I had no way of accessing myself.
"Go away," I grumbled before slumping into a soft mountain of pillows.
"Breakfast, Miss Kosilov," an unfamiliar male voice stated from without.
I let out a long, frustrated groan. "I'm not hungry," I called back, my voice partially muffled by the satin cushion I lay on. I'm tired, I groused internally as I crammed my eyes shut and tried to get comfortable. Let me sleep.
"The Darkling insists that you eat, miss," the voice said unbendingly. "I will give you a moment to make yourself decent before entering."
I shot up to sitting, my shoulders and back snarling with the effort. "No, that's not—" I began as the doors to Aleksander's room opened. A tall, white-haired man in immaculately-tailored grey livery entered, passing through the dark barrier to my sick-room-turned-prison as though it didn't exist.
"Good morning, Miss Kosilov," he greeted primly as he stopped at the bedside, bowing over the hefty, squat-legged tray he bore. It was laden with a covered plate, teapot, water carafe, and an array of flat and silverware. Without hesitation, the servant set his burden over my lap before I could refuse it.
"Morning," I muttered as I looked down crossly at the place setting before me. Never in my life had I been served or eaten breakfast in bed. "Look, I appreciate this," I said, gesturing to the breakfast service as a whole, "but I'm really not hungry."
He didn't deign me a response. Instead, the older gentleman simply reached out a gloved hand to remove the domed silver plate cover before bowing to me. I had barely inhaled to continue protesting in earnest when he briskly retreated out of the room, closing the doors behind himself.
Stunned by the exchange, I tore my eyes away from the doors to stare at the simple yet generous meal of buttered rye bread, smoked trout, pickles, and fruit. And while it all looked delicious, I didn't want any of it; what I wanted, rather, was simply to go back to sleep. Genya's bundling me off to bed like a child the night previous had felt a bit like a punishment, but now that I was awake, I realised just how exhausted I still was. I really had overdone it yesterday—and I would never hear the end of it when I saw her next.
Sighing heavily, I forced myself to at least sip at a glass of water. About ten minutes later, just as I was working up the desire to tempt some plain black tea, the doors opposite me opened again. Aleksander himself waltzed in, followed by the same older servant who had attended me previously and two Healers—Geir, who waved discreetly at me from the rear of the group, and his mentor, Jasna, one of the head Corporalki instructors. Jasna was a short and stout woman with tightly-cropped copper hair and vibrant green eyes. When I last saw her, Jasna gave me a quick physical examination to clear me for discharge from the infirmary. However, this morning, she was carrying a strange wooden medical case and a determined expression that instantly made me concerned she was ready to do far more than simply declaring me healthy.
"Here's the patient," Jasna said with a dimpled smile that sat at odds with the steel in her eyes. Stopping at the foot of the bed, she gave me a distant once-over. "Did you rest well?" She asked conversationally as she set the chest she was carrying atop the comforter. It landed heavily on the mattress.
I couldn't help but flick my eyes at the unassuming yet ominous bit of kit that now lingered by the footboard, which Jasna then shielded with her hand as if to try and diminish its presence. "I can't complain," I hedged, returning my gaze to Jasna's, if only to avoid Aleksander as he leaned against the wall, watching me from the far side of the room.
"Good, good," the instructor nodded. "And how are you feeling this morning, Esfir?"
"Uh, fine, I guess," I answered slowly, my attention drifting away to Geir, who smiled happily at me.
"No lightheadedness?" Jasna pressed as if she already knew what my answer would be.
I briefly took stock of my body before replying and, unfortunately, still found myself feeling a bit woozy. "A little," I admitted begrudgingly.
"I figured," Jasna tutted. "Genya told me you over-exerted yourself yesterday. You see," she continued, looking at Geir, "this is why it's important to keep a close eye on your patients through their entire recovery process."
At that moment, I realised I had somehow become part of a teaching demonstration.
"What is going on?" I demanded, finally working up the stones to cast an accusatory glare at Aleksander. Unflappable as ever, his response was only to let the corner of his mouth twitch with a suppressed smile. And after the tense… Conversation we had the day previous, I was (foolishly) relieved to see that he wasn't still entirely upset with me.
"You haemorrhaged nearly three quarts of blood," Jasna answered serenely, now using her best bedside manners. "And judging by your colour, you're still anaemic. So, at the Darkling's behest, I'm here to give you another transfusion."
"Another what?" I baulked, the strange word Jasna had used—transfusion—filling my very empty stomach with ice. I recognised it from when Genya had mentioned it the day before, but I still have no more of a clue what it meant.
"A transfusion," Jasna repeated calmly. "Your body needs help replacing the blood you lost."
"I'm fine," I insisted, eyeing again the medical kit sitting at the foot of the bed warily. I had no idea how she intended to help add blood back into my body, but I knew it probably wouldn't be pleasant.
"You look like a ghost," Geir piped up, joking as if it were just the two of us, sitting alone in the infirmary after another one of my lessons with Aleksander. I knew he was trying to make light of the situation to put me more at ease, but it didn't help. His casualness only made his instructor cross, as though he wasn't taking this seriously.
"That's enough," Jasna cut in flatly, her voice finally matching the tenaciousness I had seen earlier in her eyes. Silence fell over the room as she simultaneously opened the latches on her trunk with a forceful snap and then carefully lifted the lid. "Although the transfusion process is still new—" a tidy way of saying 'completely experimental and not 100% safe' "—it saved your life twice before and will help you recover more quickly." Here, the Healer drew out a large graduated jar from her kit. "Have you eaten anything this morning?" She asked with a pointed glare at the still-untouched food set across my lap.
Guiltily, I glanced at the servant who stood near the doors. And although his gaze remained trained dispassionately on the far wall, that was all the confirmation Jasna needed. "Well, while that's not ideal," she huffed disappointedly when I looked at her, "it's not entirely a problem. Svetlin, please clear the bed," Jasna stated distractedly as she fiddled with the container she held, stoppering the top with a large rubber cork pierced by three uneven glass pipes.
"Right away, madam," the servant, Svetlin, acknowledged perfunctorily before briskly crossing the room. And although his face was just as unaffected as it always seemed to be, I could feel a silent chastisement radiating off of him as he neared my side of the bed and hoisted the tray away. I bristled at his disapproval despite the dread that gnawed at me. "By your leave, sir," Svetlin then excused himself with a polite bow of his head.
"Yes, that will be all for now," Aleksander said with a dismissing twitch of one of his slender hands. Svetlin didn't waste a moment before quickly buttling out of the room, disappearing quickly past the shadowy barrier.
"Now, Geir," Jasna advised excitedly, the unexpected closeness of her voice drawing my attention, "even though you'll be participating, you'll also need to observe the procedure as it's performed." In the short moment I had been distracted watching Aleksander's manservant go about his business, the senior Healer had approached to set the strange apparatus she was fussing over on the nightstand to my right. To two of the vents in the cork, she'd affixed long rubber tubes, both of which ended in vicious looking needles capped with crystal shields to keep them clean.
I was suddenly glad I hadn't eaten anything after all. The fearful knot that rose in my stomach was enough to make me sick.
"Don't look so worried, Esfir: it doesn't hurt," the Fjerdan expat smiled from where he stood at the end of the bed, his easygoing nature doing nothing to calm my nerves. The silent 'too much' that followed after his appeasement made me pale.
"I feel fine," I spat out in a hurry, desperate to change Jasna's mind and keep myself from being used as a guinea pig. "Really," I insisted as Geir gave me a sceptical frown.
"Be brave, dear," the Healer cosseted as she absently patted my shoulder, her attention focussed more on the business end of the instrument she held. "Just a small prick, and it'll all be over before you know."
The large, savage bore of the needles told me otherwise. I'd never had cause to be stabbed on purpose, and now didn't seem like a good time to let that happen. "Please, I'm fine," I said again, my voice going reedy with fright.
"Take off your kefta and come sit," Jasna instructed Geir, ignoring my protests and motioning to the armchair at the bedside with her free hand. The sharp steel she held carefully in the other glinted dangerously in the lamplight as she moved, making the bottom fall out of my stomach all over again. Reactively, I considered bounding out of bed to prove myself well but found my body petrified in place, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. On more than one occasion, I'd sat (drunk) through being stitched up by one of the (back-alley) mediks in Kribirsk, but I'd never been prodded at like this before—not even to have my ears pierced. (They'd been that way since I was a child, which was probably for the best because, at present, I wasn't sure I could manage sitting through the ordeal again.)
"That won't be necessary," Aleksander cut in calmly just as Geir reached for the buttons at his throat.
Confused, the young Corporalki turned to look at his General before glancing at his instructor. "But, then who—?"
"—I'll be sitting in for the procedure," Aleksander answered matter-of-factly as he pushed himself off the wall to stand at his full and impressive height.
"Moi soverenyi," Jasna opposed anxiously, "with all due respect: while your intentions are admirable—"
"—I said I'll do it," Aleksander insisted, his voice as keen as a knife.
The moment of silence that followed was so complete I could hear the writhing of the dark barrier poised over the doorway.
"Of course, moi soverenyi," Jasna capitulated awkwardly, the needles she held flagging slightly as if she were suddenly nervous. Taking no notice, Aleksander confidently crossed the room, breezing past a stunned Geir to stand before the armchair at my right.
"Stop this," I hissed up at him, once again hyper-aware that I was only wearing a thin pair of infirmary-issue cotton pyjamas.
"Just relax," he answered softly as he shucked off his kefta and draped it precisely over the arm of his chair before regally seating himself. Unprompted, Aleksander then rolled up the sleeve of his black silk shirt to his shoulder, exposing the perfectly sculpted lines of his arm. If I hadn't been such a ball of nerves, I would have blushed.
"Very well, then," Jasna sighed resignedly, "let's begin. Geir, your assistance, please."
The young Healer nodded briskly, falling easily into the role of the focussed student as he came around the bed and approached Aleksander. Not waiting for permission, his General's bare arm indicating consent for whatever madness was to come, Geir bent to his work, his massive hands moving delicately to exercise his power. A moment or so later, he looked up at Jasna, his hands hovering over Aleksander's bicep, and said, "I'll release the pressure on the vein when you're ready."
"Thank you," the other Healer confirmed before resting one of the terrible little spikes on the bedside table and then positioning herself squarely before Aleksander. "Are you ready, sir?" She asked, the concern etched on her brow making it seem like she was asking her patient if he was genuinely sure he wanted to participate.
Aleksander fixed her with a cutting stare. "Do it," he ordered, the undercurrent of ferocity in his voice enough of a censure for Jasna's hesitancy to make her flinch.
"Of course," the more senior Healer murmured before placing the first two fingers of her left hand over the exposed crook of Aleksander's elbow. She hovered her touch there for a moment before turning her attention to the barb she held and removing its protective cap. Precisely, she then pressed the instrument's point into Aleksander's flesh, the brutal thing gliding effortlessly into him as though he were a pincushion.
"Hold this here, please," Jasna instructed Geir, who promptly did as he was told.
As his hands shifted to mind the steel protruding from Aleksander, I saw some of the hard concentration dim from his ice-coloured eyes. "The pressure's off the vein," Geir said up to Jasna as he knelt beside the armchair to gently keep the needle from moving too much.
"This may feel a little strange, but it's nothing to be concerned about," Jasna said to Aleksander as she extended her left hand towards his heart and then began to make gentle, circular sweeping motions across his body with her right. Immediately, a thick and steady stream of ruby-red blood began to flow down the tube running from Aleksander's arm; it wasn't long before the crimson tide spilt into the collection bottle, pouring forth in a thick, sickening rush.
Ripping my eyes away from the steadily filling jar, I looked to Aleksander only to find his eyes closed serenely. It was as if he were settled in, resting after a particularly taxing day, instead of having his life's blood intentionally drained from his body. If it hurt, he didn't show it. "Surely that's enough," I insisted bleatingly when I looked to the nightstand to see the container already a quarter full.
"This flask holds a quart of liquid with room to spare," Jasna casually explained as though we were discussing the weather. "We'll start by giving you half a unit and then reassess."
No sooner had the Healer said as much, she stopped the movement of her arms and carefully removed the instrument from Aleksander's arm, replacing its cap. Geir then quickly swept his fingers over the puncture wound left behind, closing it in the blink of an eye as if it never existed in the first place. "You'll want to sit for a while, sir," the young Fjerdan half-instructed-half-suggested as Aleksander fixed his shirt and made to stand.
"I insist you sit, General, at least until the entire procedure is over," Jasna added authoritatively as she swept her hand up the length of the rubber tube she held, seeming to push any last remnants of blood out into the waiting flask. Satisfied not a drop had been wasted, she unfastened the line from the joint in the stopper and sealed the exposed end with a bit of black rubber. Only one needle remained connected to the device.
Huffing an inconvenienced sigh, Aleksander rearranged himself in his seat, the infinitesimal shift in his weight making it look as though he was now seated on a throne. "I'll defer to your judgement in this alone," he allowed somewhat sharply, his ego prickling at being bossed around like any other of Jasna's charges.
"I appreciate your confidence, moi soverenyi," she placated, trying to smooth over the situation with flattery. It hadn't worked, judging by the hardness that lingered in Aleksander's eyes as he watched the Healers go about their remaining tasks.
Shuffling nearer, Geir positioned himself close to the bedside, kneeling to obscure my view of the blood-filled jar on the nightstand. "Roll up your sleeve and give me your arm," he said encouragingly.
Unable to stop myself, I looked to Aleksander. I could feel the fear written on my face, which he answered with a subtle nod as if that alone would assure me. He didn't seem to notice how truly terrified I was, which was both a blessing and a horror. "But," I hesitated uselessly, eyeing the barb Jasna held as she lingered at the ready in the midground.
"Your arm," Jasna repeated more forcefully, her tone taking on an impatient edge, "or I'll do it for you." I knew she meant she'd have Geir manhandle me if it came to that, the same as she did with other tasks she considered below herself. I'd seen Jasna delegate a lot of what she felt were 'menial' duties during my previous time in the infirmary: everything from checking on her patients to mending fractures or staunching wounds. She only directly attended to those people she wished to. But, either way, I knew the threat she lobbed at me was real. She wasn't about to let me make a fool of her in front of Aleksander. And, honestly, I didn't want to look like one in front of him either—especially if this outlandish experiment really might help me feel better. For that reason alone, I decided to try and stomach it.
"Fine," I bit out, attacking the button at the cuff of my right sleeve. I fumbled with it, my fingers trembling, but managed to loose it after a fashion and then roughly shoved the crisp, white fabric up to my shoulder. I then lay back on the pillows, trying to get comfortable as well as avoid the returning Aleksander's stare as he watched me.
Geir didn't waste the split second of my show of bravery. Quicker than I thought possible, he gently wrapped one of his giant hands around my wrist, his skin warm and soothing. "It'll be over before you know," he whispered for me alone as he placed a comforting touch just above the inward bend of my elbow.
I wanted to snap some terse remark at him, but the words wouldn't form. Instead, I watched mutely as he gently flexed his hand, drawing a strange tightening across my flesh like a physical tourniquet. At once, the rich, blue vein that ran down the meat of my arm began to swell, revealing itself from beneath the delicate plains of my skin.
Traitor, I swore inwardly at my own body.
"When you're ready," Geir signalled to Jasna.
"Hold her still," she quipped, not trusting me to stay put. I didn't blame her: the idea to run had flashed through my mind a thousand or so times.
"I'm sorry, Esfir, but this really will help you feel better," Geir mumbled before tightening the hand he held firmly at my wrist into an unbreakable manacle. I felt myself tense in response, the knowledge of what was coming next making my heart gallop away without me.
With a flick, Jasna unsheathed the instrument she held and brought it closer. As she had with Aleksander, before she stabbed me with it, she placed two fingers over the exposed vein in my arm. I was perplexed to feel numbness creep over the place beneath her touch. "Relax your arm," Jasna murmured, her bedside manner improving as she rested the needle's point against my flesh. It was so sharp that it pricked me with just that small bit of contact.
I tried to do as she said, but before I could exhale the deep breath I drew in to steady myself, the barb had sliced into my arm. The entire length of the insidious metal spike disappeared in a blink, the sensation of it gliding beneath my skin uncomfortable and foreign. The nervous tension in my muscles undoubtedly undid the courtesy Jasna had done of dulling my nerves, making the experience less than pleasant.
"I can hold it steady," Geir said calmly, releasing the compression he had created in my arm to mind the head of the metal poker now protruding from me. His other hand remained encircled around my extended wrist like a fetter.
With that, Jasna stood and took up the stance she had before: one palm extended towards my heart, the other hand poised to move in graceful sweeps as if she were conducting an orchestra. "You may feel a bit of tightness in your chest, but that's normal," she prefaced before she began to manipulate my body from without. Immediately, it felt as though someone was gently cradling my heart—that vital, delicate organ—in their hand, their fingers wrapped tightly, but not cruelly, around its entirety. And even though I still felt unbearably nervous and my breathing was fast, my pulse began to fall into a more even rhythm, as though I were dozing peacefully. I was about to remark on the peculiarity of the physical feeling of my body being at odds with my emotions when Jasna began to weave her unoccupied hand back and forth. The words shrivelled on my tongue as she started the final step of the transfusion in earnest, ushering forth a thick sanguine ribbon up the tube connected to my arm. And for a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Emboldened and somehow reassured by the relative non-event of the transfusion, I dared to take a curious peek down at where the needle entered my arm.
It was, like many things I seemed to do, a big mistake.
Darkness, as inky and shifting as the barrier that lingered on the far side of the room, was leeching out of the juncture of the metal and my flesh. It raced up my arm, etching out its steady path through the intricate web of my veins and vessels in stark relief beneath my skin. What was more unnerving, though, was that, as I watched the blackness' steady advance, I realised I could feel it flowing towards my heart. A dull sense of power and cold followed in the wake of the shadows creeping over my body—a unique combination that I recognised all too well.
"Are you alright? You're tensing up," Geir observed suddenly, drawing my attention away from my arm. When he saw the wide-eyed gaze I fixed him with, his concern doubled, and so too did the grip he had on my wrist. "Esfir, what's wrong?" He asked again.
"'What's wrong'?" I repeated shrilly before casting a pointed stare at my arm. "Can you not see that?"
Surprisingly, Geir chuckled before loosening his hold on my wrist. "Yes, the size of the needle is a bit alarming," he soothed, voice friendly, "but you're doing fine."
"The procedure is nearly half over," Jasna added as if that would help calm me.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "That's not what I meant!" I urged, casting another panicked look at the shadows winding up my arm. They were nearly at my shoulder now.
Both Healers responded to my worry by glancing at each other and shrugging. "Just try to relax," Jasna suggested, the frown that settled on her brow a clear indicator she thought I was being hysterical.
Realising neither Geir nor Jasna could see anything amiss, I looked to Aleksander. His face was delicately curious as I pelted him with silent questions, my eyes darting accusingly between the black map of veins on my arm, the shadows that lingered over the bedroom doors, and himself. He held my glare knowingly before shifting his focus down to my arm, his glinting quartz eyes narrowing with calm consideration. That was all the confirmation I needed to know I wasn't seeing things; it was also enough to spark a suspicion that Aleksander had known this would happen all along. It was why he had been so insistent on participating in this farcical experiment in the first place: he was up to something.
His expression shifting to something more impassive, Aleksander looked back at me and gave a slight shake of his head before glancing boredly away. I'd get no more answers than what I had deduced for myself—at least not with the Corporalki present. "Is there any way you can speed this up, Jasna?" He drawled, the imperious inflexion of his voice making the statement more of a demand than a question.
"O-of course, moi soverenyi; right away," she agreed after checking on the still-emptying container on the nightstand. "Geir, I will increase the flow rate; let me know if her blood pressure spikes, even slightly."
"On it," he answered surely and then gave my wrist a comforting squeeze as Jasna began to move her arm in tighter, more rapid motions.
Unexpectedly, the darkness inching its way up my arm seemed to intensify, the leash that had kept it muted and tolerable falling away. And as Jasna's work hastened, I felt a brutal, icy current shoot up my arm and directly into my chest. The cold whirled around my heart for a long moment before shifting into something darker and more tangible. As pure shadow wreathed my heart, it stuttered a beat, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
At that moment, Jasna realised the transfusion was going awry, and the spectral hold her power had on me flinched away like someone dropping a smouldering ember. "Something's wrong. We need to stop this," she barked down at Geir. "Pull out the needle."
"No," Aleksander said calmly, the single syllable carrying so much authority behind it that Geir's hands hesitated as he went to do as Jasna bid him.
I wanted to hurl a string of questions at Aleksander, but the censure in his eyes told me to stay silent. And, against my better judgement, I did.
"But, sir!" Jasna alarmed. "It could be fluid overload or, worse, a haemolytic reaction. She—"
"—It's not," Aleksander seethed, furious that he had to explain himself.
"Sir, you can't know that," the more senior Healer insisted.
Aleksander fixed Jasna with a murderous glare as he said, "I do, and you'll remember who you're talking to."
"Moi soverenyi," she tried again, desperate.
"Don't question me," Aleksander rebuked, each word carefully enunciated as a separate threat. The calmness of his voice was somehow worse than if he had shouted.
The breath of silence that followed stretched on for an eternity. And with each tick of the clock, the darkness that writhed around my heart burrowed deeper into my chest, worming purposefully towards the kernel of shadow I kept hidden within my soul. I fought against the two likenesses meeting—entwining—with all my might, but it was a losing battle. "Hold the needle steady and monitor her vitals—can you manage both?" Jasna asked finally, the confidence in her voice audibly forced.
"You can't mean to finish," Geir objected, yet he didn't do anything to help me.
"You heard the Darkling," she answered briskly, closing the matter.
"I hope you know what you're doing," I growled tightly to Aleksander, who coolly met my narrowed stare. Stupidly, at that moment, as our eyes met and wave after wave of unabated power coursed through me, I wanted to reach out to him, to feel that strange sense of surety that his touch always inspired in me. Proudly, however, I forced my hands to stay where they were: one shackled securely in Geir's palm, the other wound so tightly into the bed linens that I was sure I would rip them.
"You're in perfectly safe hands," Jasna snapped, needlessly offended, as her hands now moved back and forth in tight, interweaving figure eights.
"I don't think she was talking to you," Geir muttered saltily under his breath. In any other circumstance, I would have laughed.
"Concentrate," Aleksander commanded frostily.
"Yes, sir," both Jasna and Geir replied hastily as the container on the nightstand steadily emptied until there was nothing left. And as Jasna swept her hand along the tub connected to my arm, forcing every last drop of Aleksander's blood into me, I felt the two distinct yet similar forces of shadow straining to meet within my soul finally make contact. Unlike anything I had felt before, a surge of power blasted through me as the two types of darkness combined, making my body buck as though I had been struck by lightning.
"Her blood pressure is going through the roof," Geir warned as he hastily pulled the needle from my arm and firmly pressed his first two fingers over the hole it left in my flesh as evidence. The spot on my arm beneath his touch itched horribly, but I barely felt it beneath the overwhelming sensation coursing through me.
"I'll deal with it," Jasna responded before pressing her hands firmly into my chest, directly over my heart. Instantly, I felt the tension that paralysed me ease, and my breathing, which was coming in harsh gasps, even out.
"What was that?" I demanded once I could speak again, my eyes instantly gravitating to Aleksander for answers.
"An adverse reaction to the transfusion," Jasna clucked angrily, diverting my attention, as she withdrew to clean up her instruments. "This happened the last time that the Darkling insisted that he participate in the procedure," she continued, forgetting herself.
"'The last time'?" I asked, curious.
"Yes," she sniffed as she unfastened the remaining tube from the collection jar and went to put it away, along with the other instruments she had used. "We tried to stabilise you with an infusion of the Darkling's blood while you were unconscious, but you seized as soon as the procedure began."
"Your whole body locked up, and you stopped breathing," Geir explained calmly when I looked at him, alarmed. "We had to stop because you were already in such a fragile state: we couldn't risk you dying a third time."
Stunned, I looked to Aleksander, who held my loury stare for a long while before glancing away to the shadows that lingered in the background. "That will be all," he said dismissively, his tone both bored and clipped. Apparently, this conversation was heading in a direction he didn't like.
"But, sir," Jasna stumbled, pausing as she carefully placed each component of the transfusion apparatus back into its proper place in her kit. "After such a negative response to the procedure, I'd like to make sure that—"
"—I'll personally watch Esfir to make sure she recovers," Aleksander insisted, turning the full, piercing force of his gem-like eyes on the Healer. She blanched under the weight of his focus.
"As you wish, sir," she conceded after starting and failing several times to argue. With a final snap, she shut the clasps on her wooden medical case and lifted it from the foot of the bed.
"I'll check up on you tomorrow," Geir quietly promised as he stood up.
"At this rate," I said under my breath, "the entire Little Palace will be keeping an eye on me."
"Get some rest," my friend chuckled, clapping me knowingly on the shoulder before going to stand by Jasna. They both bowed to Aleksander before retreating quickly from the room, leaving the two of us alone.
"Care to explain yourself?" I snipped after the bedroom doors clicked shut. Levying the full force of my stare, I turned on Aleksander.
He met my eyes for a moment before flicking a glance to my exposed bicep. Flushing, I hurriedly pawed at my sleeve to roll it down into place. When I glanced up, Aleksander was standing, back turned, as he picked up his kefta from the arm of his chair. "Has Behrad taught you nothing?" He asked offhandedly as he shrugged the jet-black garment on, letting it settle about his broad shoulders like a second skin.
"More than I probably need to know," I countered as he meticulously straightened his collar.
A huff of air strikingly similar to a laugh escaped Aleksander before he faced me. His eyes lingered on my (now covered) arm as though he could see through the thin fabric of my clothes down to my skin. Instantly, it seemed as though I could feel the webwork of blackened veins running up my bicep towards my shoulder and across my chest, winding towards my heart. When he looked up to meet my stare, his clear, quartz eyes pierced through me as if I were made of glass. "Then you tell me what happened," he challenged evenly.
I tried to wrack my brain to answer. But holding Aleksander's stare, all I could think about was how my heart had started thumping in my chest. "Behrad's never mentioned transfusions before," I fumbled, trying to sound confident despite the sudden feeling of cluelessness that gnawed awkwardly at the bottom of my stomach. "I only first heard about them from Genya, and she said they were experimental."
Aleksander nodded slowly, his eyes drifting away again to focus on the inner crook of my elbow, exactly where the needle had pierced my flesh. Self-conscious, I folded my arms, making sure that my left hand firmly covered the injection site. Seemingly insulted, Aleksander forced himself to meet my eyes once again. "That may be true—if," he allowed deliberately, "we were talking about Corporalki healing techniques."
"So, what are we talking about?" I questioned, catching onto the game Aleksander was playing. Even with the Healers well out of earshot, he wasn't just going to tell me what sort of strangeness had really occurred. He would only elaborate if I could figure out the answer for myself.
"Nothing, it would seem," he replied, sounding almost coy. A loaded moment of quiet passed between us before he continued. "How are you feeling?" Aleksander asked conversationally as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened over the last hour or so.
"Fine," I answered quickly. In truth, however, I felt much more than just 'fine': while the overwhelming thrum of power that had rocked through me had settled, any aches or weakness that I suffered from before were now miraculously erased. It was as if I had never been hurt in the first place.
"Good," Aleksander half-smiled, somehow sensing my understatement. "Then, seeing as you're fully recovered," he mused casually as he walked to the foot of the bed, delicately trailing his hand over the wood as he went, "you no longer need my supervision."
Not that I ever wanted it, or your meddling, in the first place, I bridled internally. "No, I don't," I agreed. "And I also don't need to be kept hostage in this room," I added pointedly, sensing a perfect opportunity to rail against the injustice of my (admittedly cushy) confinement.
Aleksander cast a nonchalant glance at the shadowy elephant across the room and then said with a shrug, "I told you how to earn more freedom."
"I don't have to 'earn' anything. You have no right to keep me here," I growled back, a shiver racing up my spine as I recalled my attempted assault on Aleksander's summoned barrier and the near breakthrough I'd had. I decided to hide the odd sense of panic that flared through me by leaning into my anger.
"I'm not keeping you here," he countered matter-of-factly. "You can leave at any time."
"Except that isn't true!" I argued, incensed. Launching out of bed, I brandished a damning finger at him and said, "You made sure of that."
After taking in my aggressive stance and furious scowl, Aleksander's eyebrow cocked up sceptically. "I've not challenged you with anything impossible," he shrugged, unmoved. "It's well within your power to bring down the barrier I conjured."
"I can't, and you know it," I snapped emphatically, though the words rang hollow.
"'Can't' or 'won't'?" Aleksander asked after a moment of tense contemplation, though his icy tone didn't match the guarded concern in his eyes. Without another word, he turned to leave, billowing out of the bedroom with an uncharacteristic air of frustration.