“And if she was suffering from a lost tail, changing her to a lizard would be a fine solution.”
He wasn’t even trying to be helpful. “With all your learning, you must know of some creature who can regrow skin.”
His blue eyes didn’t leave mine. “Sadly, that was never an area of study.”
My hands slapped against my sides in irritation. “How do you know her burns are too severe for help?”
His voice turned consoling again. He’d become one forced to deliver unfortunate news. “Her burns are so deep she’s no longer feeling pain. Your maid would be writhing in agony otherwise.”
I stared at him, uncertain how to respond. My spell was responsible for her relief. I couldn’t let him give up on her because of something I’d done. “She had wine. A lot of it. That may be the cause of her apparent calmness.”
He eyed me skeptically but didn’t outright call me a liar. No wine bottles were in the room. “Marcella…”
“Don’t you dare say she’s just a servant.” The words came out harsher than I’d intended, an accusation thrown at him. I’d so counted on magic being able to help that its insufficiencies felt like a betrayal. My eyes stung and tears spilled onto my cheeks. They coursed, unchecked, down my face. “Please, Ronan. Try.”
He sighed and ran his hand against the back of his neck. “I’ll perform a spell to increase her body’s healing power.”
That was a spell unknown to me. He must have learned it after giving me my mark.
“It will cure the minor damage,” he said. “Perhaps with a less extensive area of burns, her chances of recovery will improve. Perhaps it will give us time to think of something else.”
Hope, at last. My mind grabbed onto the words and pressed them to my heart. Without thinking, I took one of his hands in both of mine. “Thank you.”
I was mistaken in my earlier opinion that holding his hand no longer felt familiar. This felt very familiar.
His fingers curled around mine. His eyes were soft. I could tell he didn’t want me to hope too much. “It’s only a chance, Marcella. If the wounds fester…”
“We’ll address festering wounds later. Do what you can for her now.” I towed him back into the room.
We knelt beside Gwenyth, Ronan by her head, and I at her side. “Mage Warison is going to increase your body’s healing power,” I said brightly.
Ronan placed his hands on the top of Gwenyth’s forehead and performed the spell. The fire grew dimmer with each word, but it happened so subtly that perhaps only I noticed. That, I supposed, was proof of the control Ronan possessed.
I did my best to memorize the words of the incantation for future use. It was similar to the spell to speed natural healing with a few variations. I couldn’t see the burns under her bandages, but the angry crimson welts on her thighs shrunk, like waves retreating back to the sea. The blisters subsided, and some of the redness turned to a less vibrant pink. She wasn’t cured, but it was something.
When Ronan finished and the fire had once again returned to a normal blaze, he examined her skin. His blue eyes were intent, so lost in his work he seemed unaware of anything else. At this point, other wizards would have been posing and posturing.
He spoke to Gwenyth casually, as though she shouldn’t be embarrassed he was scrutinizing her thighs. “You responded better than I expected. Magic must fancy you.”
“I hope so.” She swallowed, perhaps uncomfortable at accepting a wizard’s help. “Thank you, sir.”
Ronan turned his attention to the physician. “I’ll send you more salve. See that someone administers it on her wounds thrice daily. For the next few days, she should do nothing but sleep and drink broth.”
“I’ll run out of sleep draught,” the physician said.
“I’ll send more of that.” To the housekeeper, Ronan said, “You’ll see to her needs?”
The housekeeper nodded. She was a heavy-set woman of middle age, with a stern, serious countenance. A woman who emanated the proper sort of breeding for a position of importance in a castle. “I’ll have a maid attend to her.”
Ronan went through the physician’s things and came back with a spoon and a green bottle. “I’m going to put you to sleep,” he told Gwenyth. “Hopefully you’ll rest well all night so you can continue healing.” He poured a little of the potion onto the spoon and held it to her lips.
Gwenyth’s eyes flashed to me. “You’ll tell Alaric?”
“Yes.” Until this moment, I hadn’t considered all the implications of Gwenyth’s wounds. The job of assassin would fall to Alaric.
No one asked who he was. Gwenyth had known they wouldn’t. I suppose it didn’t occur to them to be curious about a servant’s connections.
Gwenyth swallowed the sleeping draught and laid back down, her eyes already growing heavy.