A Life of Grime

Chapter 3

Someone is pushing a glass of water to my lips. My thirsty tongue wants my mouth to open and accept the water, but I resist. It could be poison.

I open my eyes and push the cup away. I clatters to the floor, spilling in a long even stream.

“Sorry.” A male voice announces.

I look up in panic. He is holding onto me. I am trapped in his grasp, my limbs rubber in their fight to get away. I contemplate using my magic, but I realize I am running on empty. But still I struggle, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. If I could get away and call for help...

He releases me and sets me down gently on the bench, then hastily moves away.

I meet his deep blue eyes and recognition blazes through me. Kellan.

“Sorry,” I whisper, embarrassed.

“No! It's okay, I should have... but then you collapsed, so I didn't know what to... are you all right?”

I stare down at my hands and observe the slightly bleached out colour of my dragon ring. I have been draining too much from my rings, and not relying enough on my own strength. My powers have become weaker without use.

“I'm just tired,” I sigh.

Kellan sits down next to me and offers out another glass of water. I sip at it carefully.

“I've never seen anyone heal that quickly before. It was impressive. Thank you.”

“Let's not forget that I'm the one that put you in that state. Healing you was the least I could do.”

“Is that what your job is?” He asks. “Healing the Dukes family?”

“No. They don't trust me to...” I trail off, and we both know what I was going to say. I'm just a southern barbaric magic user. A slave.

“Well, I think you have a promising future in medicine.”

I laugh with mirth. “Don't be silly. I don't have a future, period.”

He winces. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be callous.”

I get up from the bench and move away from him, picking up the spilt cup and placing it in the sink for someone to wash.

“You're not from around here, are you?”

“Me and Fran, my cousin, are from the west kingdom by the sea. We don't have slaves there.”

I don't want to talk to him about slavery anymore. It's one of the things that grates on my ears. Worse then the people who beat and torture me for having magic, are the people who pity me.

I turn back to Kellan and observe him. His shirt is still open and covered with blood. His hands are clean, so I assume he washed them. But some of the blood has gotten in his dirty-blond hair, and has started to dry. He can't go back to the party looking like this.

“We should get you cleaned up,” I suggest. “Your cousin will be wondering where you are.”

I move forward and gently touch his white shirt, pulling it away from the rest of his body.

He clears his throat. “I tried to wash out the stains but... I could just fasten up my jacket over top of them?”

I shake my head. “Your jacket is covered with stains also.”

I run the fabric through my fingers. I've never cleaned clothes before with magic. I don't know what the best word to use is. I stick with Lehara, the word for all fixing.