Kingdoms of Gold

10 | Petition For A Statue

The healer pounced on me the second I stepped out of the bathroom. What clothes I put on hadn't mattered as she had me strip out of them. I'd refused to take off my underwear, which was good since she didn't ask.

She kicked everyone out of the room, or at least those willing to leave. Not even I could make my mates budge. Though, I didn't try too hard.

Mirai hadn't hesitated to leave for her guest room across the hall. She still had a thing about cooties and seeing others bare. I hoped it would last another 50 years. I wasn't sure I could handle any love talk just yet. Maybe Brynjar could deal with that when the time came.

The healer pushed a bowl into my hands. Steam rose from the pungent, amber liquid.

I held the bowl as far away from me as possible, gagging. "What is it?"

She barely glanced at me, rifling through her bag of goodies. Container after container was placed in the bed next to me. Each was a different salve. "It's a mix of herbs. Drink it. It'll help clean you out."

"I'm good." I took another sniff and set it aside. My magic would heal the infection on my leg in time. I'd rather not drink or eat anything else I don't have to.

Malachi sighed and ran a hand over his dreads. "This is going to take a while."

She smacked a suture kit on the desk. "Your diet does not consist of flesh or blood or hair. Don't make me continue with the bacterias I sense in your stomach. It's doing more harm than good by sitting there. Drink the medicine."

Say no more. I didn't want that shit inside me anymore than she did.

It tasted better than it smelled. The hot, bitter liquid soothing my throat.

I handed her the empty bowl. She smiled and grabbed my arm instead—the one that was previously dislocated—and tugged.

Pops echoed through the room, along with my sharp intake of breath. Pain blurred my vision, churned my stomach. As fast as the pain appeared, it disappeared. In fact, my shoulder felt much better.

The healer began working on my ribs, mumbling, "That's what happens when you try to relocate a shoulder yourself. You do a shitty job and tear a bunch of crap I have to fix."

I collapsed back on the bed, closing my eyes as the nausea only intensified. I practically sighed as the pressure on my ribs dissipated and breathing became easier.

Then her hands found the gash on my leg. I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. Blood bloomed in my mouth and I swallowed it down.

Valentino found my hand, unclenching it around the sheets. He pressed a kiss to my knuckles and knelt on the side of the bed.

There were a variety of other injuries I hadn't recognized, including a sprain in my ankle.

But the room was entirely quiet. The only sounds were the grumbles and complaints from the healer. Mostly about how out of hand I was.

I didn't pay attention. I focused on deep, even breaths. My stomach was still churning, bubbles rising in my throat. I continuously swallowed to keep from throwing up. It didn't help.

A bucket was already by my bedside when I sat up abruptly. I gripped the edges of the tin, heaving. It wasn't as bad as in the forest, most of the crap diluted from the tea. It still felt like my guts were being ripped out.

Someone handed me a glass of water, which I happily took to rinse my mouth with. There was still that lingering acidic taste. I was too burnt out to get up and find a toothbrush.