The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) by Annmarie Banks Page B

name…?” he recoiled.
    “It will keep the wound from festering, my lord.” Nadira tilted the bowl so he could see its contents.
    He grimaced. “That smells like the Devil’s own privy.”
    “I’m sorry it offends you, my lord, but these herbs are the only ones I found in the garden for wounds.”
    “No, no. I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” he said. The tone of his voice implied the opposite. He turned his face away from her again.
    I wouldn’t want to watch either . Nadira hesitated. She picked up the soft cloth to clean the edges of the long cut.
    “You will have to move your arm, my lord,” she murmured. When it appeared he could not lift it high enough, she helped position his arm over her shoulder. It was heavy and hung down over her back as she bent to her work.
    She picked up the threaded needle, willing her fingers to cease their shaking. Another deep breath. With one hand, she held the edges of the wound; with the other, she inserted the gleaming silver through the pink flesh. Montrose flinched with each stitch, but did not otherwise move nor did he make a sound until she pushed her needle through the lowest part of the wound, where the cut was deepest over the bone of his hip. There, when she reached for the edges he moved his arm and squeezed her shoulder until it hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes.
    “Wait,” he whispered hoarsely. She stopped, both of them breathing hard. It was the only sound in the room.
    Nadira put down the needle and waited for him. After a long moment, the hand on her shoulder relaxed. She picked up the needle and went back to her work. Montrose now groaned softly with each breath.
    “Are you finished?” He mumbled through clenched teeth, but she understood him to mean, you’d better be finished .
    “Almost,” she answered tightly. “I will apply the poultice and wrap it, then you may rest.” She lined an empty bowl with a square of linen and carefully poured the warm green boneset tea into it. She lifted the four corners slowly to allow the infusion to drain into the bowl and collect the sodden leaves, then rolled the square into a tube and laid along the deeper part of the wound. Nadira took the long strips of linen Beniste had sent with Sarah and wrapped them around Montrose’s broad chest. She tied the last strip and smoothed the linen with her palms.
    “I am finished now, my lord.”
    He blew his breath out like he had been holding it a long time.
    She helped him lie down on his left side and he was snoring beside Marcus before she was finished cleaning up. She gathered up the soiled linens to take down to the laundry on the first floor.
    Alisdair met her on the stairs. Nadira suspected he had been waiting there the whole time. “Well?”
    Nadira nodded. “Yes, he will heal. He sleeps.” There was nothing else to say.
    He leaned against the wall, squinting as he looked up the stair to the room. “I’ll just be checkin’.” He let her go and continued up the stairs. She heard the door open and close behind him.
    Nadira took the linens to the laundry in the stable yard. She spent a few moments in the fresh air. The autumn chill was refreshing now that she was coming from a warm room and her clothes were dry. She did not look forward to resuming their journey, whenever that would be. In Barcelona, Sofir’s guests rarely stayed an entire week, but sometimes his trading partners might stay the winter when the storms were bad and they were kept from sailing.
    She wondered how long they would be welcome in Beniste’s house. She remembered that her master Sofir’s guests were very generous in return for their lodging. Montrose had plenty of money. She could not help but notice the size of his purse. It was not full of copper, either. She had seen him pull it from behind his belt and search around for the right coin when they stopped to pay a toll.
    She looked around. Beniste had large storerooms, a fine stable with every stall filled, a pen full of