A War Of Traitors( ARTK, Book 2)

Chapter 162

Ocono 20th, 3329 A.G

  The work was as important as most believed, but harder than they knew. It required an arm strength she was forced to have at least once a month while grinding large quantities of herbs(she had servants do some of it), and a certain immunity to heat and fire(one simply did not make salves without burning themselves). It often required finding large quantities of herbs- though many of them were easy. And the other part- treating people's various illnesses and injuries never stopped when there were an army and major house all around you.

  Ysmen felt as if she'd finally seen it all and there was no injury- or reason for it she hadn't heard, though she knew that would change. In ten years she could look back over the previous ones and think she knew nothing. War brought about all kinds of injuries and all kinds of advancements in the healing arts.

  And her chambers had been built exactly for that purpose- close to House Tomhend's sick room, and with two fireplaces instead of the usual one. She was never cold while sleeping, at least. As she pulled a pot of hot wax out of the fire and put another on for the oil to warm up, she thought of how differently things could've gone As a whore and witch in training, there hasn't been much certainty in her life.  Witches often only died of old age, and she intended on doing that too- but all the decades in between had no real plan. She could wander as she'd done for work, and she didn't mind how she traveled so much now- but she assumed that would eventually become too exhausting.

  Lords and ladies did not often kill witches, she knew. This war would guarantee her work for at least a decade- and likely help her keep a place with Nara Ashhand afterwards.

She glanced towards her shelf of moldy bread for a moment, proud of how organized it were. The freshest always rested on the top shelf- where she had to stand on her toes to reach, and the older loaves were always where she could see them.

Her oil began popping far sooner than she would've liked, so she pulled that out to cool before mixing with the wax. She pulled a few different herb jars out and brought them to her table to crush- though a distraction would come along quickly.

He stood in her open doorway, holding a cloth to what appeared to be a bad cut on his arm. Even then, in the few moments he said nothing- blood seeped through.

Ysmen sighed, set the herbs down and crossed her arms as he approached. "What was it this time?"

"One of my soldiers said it'd been over a week since he used a real sword. Said he was getting too used to building the wall and he needed to remember what battle felt like." Andre shrugged. "So we sparred with.... real swords."

"Andre....." Ysmen shook her head. "I will.....never mind. You are not the first and you probably won't be the last. Sit."

Andre did as he were told and did not flinch when Ysmen lifted the cloth up to look at it. The cut were deep and didn't look like it were going to stop bleeding anytime soon, so Ysmen's eyes slowly drifted back to his own. "I should burn it. This one is...too deep for the herbs that help to help. You could keep that pressure on it and wait some more but..... with where the cut is I doubt that'll....do much."

"Whatever needs to be done." Andre gave a small, forced smile. "I am not afraid of physical pain."

Ysmen grabbed one of her knives off the table and carried it over to the fire, setting it on the floor but placing just the blade in it. She wiped some of the blood of Andre's arm- and by the time she were done with that the blade was red.

"You're becoming....more and more reckless."She said, voicing her thoughts as she walked to take the blade's handle.

"My real reason for living is dead." He gulped. "The only thing...keeping me in this world is-"

"Revenge?" Ysmen finished his sentence. "This is going to hurt."

  Andre nodded and held his arm out flat against the table. This was not the first time a wound of his had been closed with heat- but that didn't make the moments the blade were on his arm and wrist any shorter. Instead of screaming he clenched his jaw and stared at the floor, letting only a low groan out. And when that blade were finally lifted- a sigh. Ysmen turned around a few times like she were expecting someone to be there- but that was the thing she appreciated about being one of the queen's trusted advisors and a witch. The soldiers were not afraid of her, but servants treated her like she were also a queen.

  "Clean snow!" She yelled, and somewhere in the hallway a servant yelled back- saying he would get that right away. While they waited, Ysmen wet a cloth to gently clean the burn.

  "I know I am not a good person." Andre said. He tried to pay no mind to the stinging pain of the burn and reminded himself it were better than bleeding to death- but talking was a better distraction. "I never have been. My wife... She brought out the good parts and now she.... I cannot avenge her death, but if I can do this one thing right and avenge my sister's....."

  "You may not be a good person-" Ysmen shrugged. "But you are far from the worst man I've ever met."

  "What happened to you was-"

  "No." Ysmen interrupted."I don't want to talk of that. It....was not one of my favorite days. Now you- keep that wrapped up and clean. You dying from corrupted flesh wouldn't do the queen, your sister, or me any good."