Chapter 54: Bitter Medicine

Seraphine's POV

"Ow—!"

The sound ripped out of me before I could stop it. Cordelia's hands yanked the bandage away from my shoulder, and the scab that had barely started to form tore open. Fresh blood seeped through, warm and sticky against my skin.

Fuck.

I hissed through my teeth, jaw clenched so hard it ached, my fingers digging into the mattress as nails scraped against the fabric. The pain was sharp and immediate, but what made my breath catch wasn't the physical hurt—it was the way Cordelia didn't even flinch.

Her face was blank. Empty. Those amber eyes that usually held warmth were cold and distant now, like she was cleaning a countertop instead of reopening a wound that had finally stopped throbbing. Her dark brown skin seemed somehow darker in the dim light, her jaw set in a hard line that made her look more like the fighter her build suggested than the healer I'd come to rely on.

She dabbed at the blood with a cloth, and the pressure was brutal. Deliberate. I gasped, eyes watering, watching the way her braids swayed slightly with each methodical movement.

This wasn't the woman who'd bandaged me up before, who'd been gentle, who'd talked to me like I was a person instead of a problem.

"Cordelia—" My voice came out smaller than I intended.

She didn't look at me. Just kept working, her movements mechanical and efficient. Cold. I watched those amber eyes move, first dropping to my neck where Kaelen's mark still throbbed, the skin raw and tender. Then they lifted back to mine, and the look she gave me made my stomach twist into knots.

It wasn't anger. It was worse. Disappointment radiated from every line of her face, from the slight downturn of her full lips to the way her nostrils flared just barely. Her expression was carefully controlled, but I could see the judgment there, sharp as any blade.

"Cordelia..." My voice cracked, desperation creeping in. "What's wrong?"

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment crossed her features. She reached for the antiseptic, her long fingers steady and sure, and poured it over the wound without warning.

The burn was instant. White-hot. I jerked back, breath hitching in my throat, but her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Her grip was firm, unyielding, those amber eyes finally meeting mine with an intensity that made me freeze.

There was something in her gaze now—disappointment, yes, but also a kind of weary resignation that cut deeper than any verbal rebuke could have.

"Shit—" The word came out strangled as I stared at her, heart pounding against my ribs.

She still wouldn't speak, and the silence stretched between us like a physical thing, heavy and suffocating. I watched her jaw work, saw the way her throat moved as she swallowed whatever words she was holding back. Her braids shifted as she tilted her head slightly, examining the wound with clinical detachment while wrapping the bandage around my shoulder. The pressure was too tight, deliberate in its discomfort, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Cordelia, please—"

"Looks like desire feels stronger than pain." Her voice was ice, cold enough to make me flinch. She didn't look up from her work, but I saw the slight tightening around her eyes, the way her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Maybe even stronger than finding your sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and my face went hot. Shame crawled up my throat as I watched her expression remain carefully blank, not giving me an inch of mercy. Her amber eyes flickered briefly to the mark on my neck again, and something passed through them—disgust? Pity? I couldn't tell, but it made me feel small and exposed.

"I didn't—it wasn't—" I stammered, but she cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"I don't want to hear it." She tied off the bandage with quick, efficient movements, her hands rough and impersonal. No care. No gentleness. Just efficiency born of what looked like barely contained anger or disappointment—maybe both.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "It's not what you think—"

"Your body's pretty honest, isn't it?" She finally looked at me directly, and those amber eyes were sharp as glass, cutting through every excuse I might have offered. Her face was a mask of controlled emotion, but I could see the tension in her jaw, the slight flare of her nostrils.

"The deal was for him to help you find Lyralei. But you enjoyed last night, didn't you?"

My mouth opened. Closed. Nothing came out because she was right, and we both knew it. The bond had made it impossible not to enjoy it—every touch, every kiss, every second had felt like fire in my veins, like I was drowning and breathing at the same time. And I'd wanted more, God help me, I'd wanted more.

The realization made my stomach churn as I watched Cordelia stand and start packing up the medical kit, her movements precise and controlled. Her braids swung with the motion, and I noticed the rigid set of her shoulders, the way she held herself like she was keeping something locked tight inside.

"Maybe you should figure out what you actually want, Seraphine." Her tone was flat, final, and she turned toward the door without looking back at me.

"Wait—" I reached out instinctively, though she was too far away to touch.

She stopped but didn't turn around. I could see the tension in her back, the way her hand gripped the medical kit so tightly her knuckles showed pale against her dark skin. My hands were shaking, and I clenched them into fists, trying to find the right words.

"I'm sorry." The words came out raw and desperate. Silence stretched between us, and I pushed forward. "I know I screwed up. I know I keep screwing up. But you've been helping me since I got here. You've been the only person who—"

My voice broke, and I had to clear my throat before continuing. "I promised Kaelen I wouldn't run anymore. I swear I'm not forgetting about Lyralei. I just—"

I stopped, took a breath, watched the rigid line of her spine. "I need his help. That's all this is."

Cordelia stood there for a long moment, her back still to me, shoulders tense as wire. I could see her head move slightly, like she was considering my words, weighing them.

Then she moved, picking up the medical kit with deliberate slowness and walking to the door. I thought she was leaving just like that, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Workers are coming this afternoon." Her voice was flat, emotionless, and she still didn't turn to look at me. "They're removing the boards from the windows."