Little White Lies

7. Little White Lies

I awoke in my bed in the castle. For a moment I actually believed I had dreamed the whole thing. I mean, what were the chances that people actually attacked the castle? Then I looked down at myself and realized I was covered in dust and scrapes.

            “Oh good you’re awake! I knew it wouldn’t take long.”

            Turning in the direction of the bathroom that adjoined my room, I saw Abby standing in the doorway. It was clear she had changed.

            “What happened?” I asked her, putting my hand to my head. I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a bat.

            “Someone poisoned the orange juice.”

             “Then how are you ok?” I asked her.

            “I never drank it. I don’t like OJ,” she answered. She slowly sank to the side of my bed with a grim look on her face.

            “Did the guards get the attackers to leave?” I asked.

            She nodded slowly. “They just kind of packed up and left after Tristan fell to the floor.”

            There was very clearly something she wasn’t saying. “What?” I asked with slight panic in my voice. “What’s wrong?”

            Abby frowned. “You’re the strongest healer in the world and the poison knocked you out for three hours.”

            My heart began to beat louder in my ears. I knew what that meant. Nothing got past me; I healed myself instantly. If I was out cold everyone else must be…“Is everyone else…ok?” I swallowed. I only had one person in mind.

One person whom I knew to have an unhealthy obsession with orange juice.

            “No one has died yet,” she paused. “But you’re the only healer here and I don’t know how many others will survive without a healer’s help.” She looked at me for a moment. “Tristan is in the worst condition.”

            I sat up and looked down at my gloves. I’d already had to start wearing them a little longer to cover the charred skin. They now rested about an inch past my wrist. While the attack was happening I’d had to fight not to explode. In the moment controlling myself had taken a back seat to surviving, but holding it in had clearly had a bad side effect. I could see the scarred flesh peeking out past the glove.

            “Where is everyone else?”

            “They’re everywhere outside. Tristan is in his bedroom.”

            I took a deep breath and walked over to my dresser. Then I pulled out the elbow-high gloves I’d brought with me in case of an emergency. “Close your eyes, Abby. They’ve gotten more gruesome.”

She walked over and put an arm around my shoulders. “No.”

I just nodded. If she wanted to see them, she could. I slipped off my gloves and felt Abby flinch when she saw. My flesh was mangled almost beyond recognition. It seemed that every time I fought the urge to explode, a little bit more of my skin charred away. Still, it was nothing compared to how that compared with what happened when I actually let it all go. What had been merely burnt fingertips yesterday had become a mangled mesh of burnt flesh and crusted blood.

After what felt like an eternity, I slipped my raw hands into the silky elbow length gloves. “Hopefully this will be enough.”

Abby pouted. “I hate this.”