The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (26 page)

Obediently, Gadiel laid down on his back, knees bent to take up less space in the cramped quarters. It was nothing more than a small hollow amidst the crates, the three of them packed in with no more than a few inches between. Aiva was grateful for the company. With Gadiel there, it eased the tension she was used to feeling when alone with Callum. She didn’t require conversation. Only the knowledge that someone else was there. Close by. She disliked the sensation of being alone in the middle of nowhere with the storm increasing violently outside. Hail pelted the fabric of the canopy, flashes of crackling light following the monstrous roars of thunder.

She sat in the quiet of the wagon, listening to the sounds of the weather, unable to close her eyes. Never before had she been beyond the safety of a palace during a storm such as this. Her family was always well sheltered, spending the duration lost in conversation. Comfortably concealed from the violent thrashing of the wind. It was unsettling to be so vulnerable.

After a while she could hear the steady breathing of Gadiel’s sleeping form at her feet. She hesitated to look over at Callum. He hadn’t moved since the conversation stopped, but she could feel him there. Awake. Rolling her head to the side, she let her gaze fall upon him casually. His eyes were cast downward, deep in his own thoughts, hands clasped uncomfortably in his lap.

“I never had a chance to thank you.”

He looked up at the sound of Aiva’s voice, surprised to hear her speak. “For?”

Aiva smiled nervously. She’d thought it was obvious. It felt awkward to have to explain. “You saved my life today.”

“Oh,” he responded quietly, a half-hearted smile on his lips. “It is my duty to keep you safe. Think nothing of it.”

Careful not to bump Gadiel, she used her uninjured arm to slide closer to Callum. Her heart was racing. Pressed in at his side, she reached out for his left hand, gently turning it over to look at his palm, drawing in a sharp breath. The skin was torn. Peeled. Reddened from the friction of the rope. It looked awful. Painful. His entire body tensed at her approach, though he made no move to look away. Staring at her, as if afraid of what she intended to do.

“It must hurt,” she whispered.

Callum shook his head, forcing a soft laugh. “Not at all.”

“You lie.” Lightly Aiva brought her left hand over his, the tips of her fingers brushing the surface of the burn. She could hear his sharp intake of breath at her touch. Pain stifled by pride. She wanted to help. To do something in repayment for what he’d done for her.

During Aiva’s time with Faustine, her mother had insisted she be trained in the use of healing energy; how to aid the natural process along with the difficult art of transferring negative energies from one person to another. It was a skill the Queen considered of great importance for her daughters to know and understand. Outside of her lessons, Aiva had never attempted to utilize the energy in such a way. It somehow felt useful at this moment. A means of easing the severity of Callum’s wound. Although the method wasn’t commonly used, she was capable of taking some of it upon herself. Much the same as the physicians could transfer an illness from their patients; an injury could be treated the same way. She simply had less experience than a trained shaman. She wasn’t entirely sure it would even work.

Gently she rested her hand on Callum’s wrist just above the wound. She focused her thoughts, directing the energy inward from her hand, as if attempting to pull his palm to her own by sheer force of will. Her hand brushed against his skin, a dim blue glow surrounding her fingertips. It was difficult to see the progress in the darkness, her work illuminated by nothing more than the light of her own projected energy. A burning sensation quickly coursed over her palm, causing her to flinch, nearly breaking the link between her and Callum. Concerned by the unusual feeling, she eased the flow of energy, not wanting to risk doing more harm than good with her work.

Taking a deep breath, she removed her hand. She didn’t have to look to know it had worked. The abrasions on Callum’s skin had lessened but remained visible. Unpleasant, but less severe. Her own hand ached. She was afraid to look, unsure of what had sparked the discomfort during the process. It seemed best not to think about it right now.

Callum stared at his palm, mouth opened to speak, no words forming. It took several moments of stunned silence before he managed to regain control of his vocal cords. “Aiva, what did you do?”

“I was the reason for your pain. It seemed only right that I try to lessen it.”

“You should not have – ”

“Do you not appreciate it?” Aiva’s brow rose inquisitively. She could sense his gratitude, mixed with something she couldn’t identify. Her own feelings were a chaotic mess inside her head. After hearing Gadiel’s version of the events in Siscal, she wanted to let go of her anger, yet it continued to nag at the back of her mind. There were questions left unanswered. It was too soon to forgive him. “When we return to Tanispa, you will be a hero. And a free man. The ladies would not like it if your skin is rough and unsightly.”

Lowering his hand to his lap, Callum said nothing. Aiva chided herself for the harshness of her tone. Her own confusion was hindering her ability to think clearly. Lashing out at Callum wasn’t going to help. He’d been the focus of her hatred for so long that it was easy to blame him. But she didn’t want to hurt him right now.

Nervously she slid away from Callum to replace the distance which had been between them. Turning her back on him, she curled her legs into her chest, head leaning against the canopy. “Do not worry about it,” she said quietly, closing her eyes to try and force the image of Callum’s melancholy expression from her mind. “You should not allow the wound to remain exposed. Before we set out in the morning, I insist you let me bandage it properly. If you do not, it will become infected, and the men need you healthy.”

Still Callum said nothing. Aiva wanted to look at him. To see some indication of what was going through his head. Pride wouldn’t allow her to. It was better if she didn’t know. He had a way of breaking her heart without even trying. She feared at that moment he might take full advantage of her weakness and shatter it beyond repair, leaving her helpless to his charm. No. She couldn’t bear to see his eyes. She needed to keep her wits about her in order to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Good night, Callum,” she whispered. If he responded, the sound was drowned out by another roar of thunder outside, causing Aiva to jump reflexively, tightening her arms around her legs.
Just close your eyes
, she urged herself.
Everything will be better in the morning
. She only wished she could believe it.

When Aiva awoke, the dim light of morning had only just begun to brighten the sky outside the wagon. The rain had stopped. All around them was a sense of calm. Peace. At her feet she could still hear the steady breathing of Gadiel’s sleeping form. Slowly turning over, she saw Callum, seated with his back against the wall, chin tucked to his chest at an awkward angle, asleep. She winced to think of the discomfort he would feel upon waking in that position. Not that he would ever admit to it. He was sure to suffer in silence, the same as he had in regards to the injury on his hand.

Reminded of the wound, she turned her own palm over, a grimace contorting her features to see the redness which covered her skin. The surface appeared to have been burned, stinging with even the slightest movement of her fingers. It was nothing in comparison to Callum’s injury, but enough to make her wonder how it happened. She must have made a mistake. A miscalculation in directing the energy. It had been spoken of during her lessons, but never had she witnessed such an occurrence before. She would have to find the supplies necessary to tend her injury as well as Callum’s when he opened his eyes.

Careful not to disturb the slumbering men, Aiva slowly rose to her feet, ducking down to avoid bumping the ceiling, stepping over Gadiel’s legs to reach the line of supplies between her and the entrance. It hurt to move, the pain in her shoulder reminding her of the still healing muscles and ligaments around the joint. Fighting through the discomfort, she crawled to the other side of the crates, slipping through the flap and out into the cool morning air. She would enjoy the weather while it lasted. Come afternoon, they would be back to the oppressive heat of the desert.

Moving to the horses, she dug through the bags draped on their backs, easily locating the medical supplies. Rolls of gauze and towels. Disinfectant ointment prepared by the Tanispan herbalists. She retrieved the items along with a small jug of water, turning to make her way back to the wagon, halted in her movement at the sight of Callum standing behind her. Startled, she fumbled to keep hold of the supplies, unable to contain a grimace as the gauze pressed against the burned skin of her palm. Noticing Callum’s watchful eyes upon her, she quickly moved her arm behind her back to conceal the injury from view. “You scared me to death. What are you doing sneaking around out here?”

“I heard you leave,” he replied softly, his hand rubbing at the side of his neck. “It was time for me to wake anyway. We should be moving soon.”

“Not until we get your hand cleaned up,” Aiva argued. She reached for Callum’s left arm, staring in disbelief to see him move it away from her. “What are you doing?”

“The last time I let you near my hand, you injured yourself. My wound is superficial. Do not worry about it.”

“It is not superficial. And if you are worried about the men seeing you accept my help, don’t be. Everyone is asleep. We can have it cleaned and bandaged before they become aware I even touched you.”

Callum’s shoulders bowed forward as he exhaled a deep breath, scanning the area around them. She could sense him giving in. Not that she expected him to deny her for long. She could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. “Fine,” he mumbled. “But do not attempt further healing of it. Had I known what would happen from your efforts last night, I never would have let you touch me.”

She smiled to herself, victorious. Taking Callum’s arm, she led him to a sparse patch of grass near the side of the road, motioning for him to sit. He did as she instructed, settling himself on the dew dampened ground. Kneeling in front of him, Aiva turned his palm over, pouring water onto the wound to cleanse it of the dirt which had already begun to settle inside the torn skin. It looked significantly better than she remembered, though not to the extent she would have liked. It remained a deep, almost crimson red, the rope having torn through much of the surface. Callum watched her with mild fascination as she worked, her hands gently applying the ointment before wrapping the wound in gauze, completing the bandage with expert care. Satisfied, she looked up at Callum, nodding to him in approval. “See? Was that really so bad?”

“I suppose not,” he murmured, inspecting the wrappings with a scrutinizing gaze. “You are quite skilled at field medicine.”

“Faustine is a strict teacher. She does not accept anything less than perfect,” Aiva chuckled. Her laughter trailed off at the sensation of Callum taking her hand, turning it over before she could stop him. In the dim morning light, the redness of her skin was more noticeable. She winced at the sight of it, averting her eyes from Callum’s guilty stare. “It is nothing,” she whispered. “I will clean it while the men gather their things. In a few days it will not even be noticeable.”

“I have never seen the energy create such an injury before.”

Aiva tugged her hand away, not wanting to feel the touch of his skin any longer. “I wasn’t exactly Faustine’s prized pupil. It is possible I made an error.”

“Faustine taught you the healing techniques? I thought only the girls who stayed within her home received tutelage in such arts.”

Aiva rolled her eyes, irritated by Callum’s seeming ignorance. Did he think she wasn’t good enough to be taken in as one of Faustine’s students? She was the Princess. Her bloodline alone was enough to grant her a position among Faustine’s most prestigious pupils. “For a Captain, you aren’t always so bright, are you?” she huffed. “Although it was not my desire to go, I was forced to spend a few years under Faustine’s care. Why does it surprise you that she would have me?”

“You were in Faustine’s care – ” Callum laughed miserably at some secret only he was privy to. Turning from Aiva, he covered his mouth, trying to muffle the sound to avoid waking the others. “That… that explains a great deal.”

Aiva peered at him quizzically. Agitated. He was behaving oddly. She was beginning to wonder if the journey was affecting his mental state. “What does it explain, exactly?”

Spinning back around, he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, dejected. “Had I known you were going to be in Faustine’s company, I might have utilized more care in sending my letters. She never would have allowed you to correspond with me.”

“Are you suggesting Faustine kept these supposed letters from me?”

“Communication with a young man is considered improper for a lady of your age at the time. It is the only thing which makes sense.”

Bewildered by the possibility, Aiva shook her head. She didn’t want to believe Faustine would do something so underhanded. It was more likely Callum was merely attempting to conceal the fact that he had abandoned her by placing the blame on someone else. The sound of his continued laughter did nothing to calm her rising anger, struggling to keep from shouting at him in frustration. “Well, I’m glad you find this humorous,” she snapped. She didn’t know what else to say. Nothing felt appropriate.