75

Dove stirs when she feels a disturbance underneath her head, fiddling with her pillow. Groaning, she mutters an incoherent ‘ten more minutes’ and turn on her side to resume her sleep…only to hiss when her lower leg throbs painfully.

Her eyes shoot open and locks on the source of her discomfort. Her entire right leg is exposed, her ankle and shin wrapped in thick bandages that reeks of disinfectant and herbs. As though looking at it could elicit a reaction, a second bolt of pain travels through her leg, this time causing her to gasp.

“Easy now,” Jacques’ voice comes from behind her where he was busy fixing her pillow before she awakened. “Try not to move around too much, Princess.”

“What happened?” She croaks, studying her surroundings. They were in a tent and she’s occupying a bed on the floor. Beside her, a makeshift table holds a pile of bloody rags, a bowl of water, several rolls of bandages, and vails with potions and ointments.

“Some fool left their beartrap buried underneath the brush from their last hunt,” the healer explains as he moves to the foot of her bed. “And you, Princess, was the unfortunate soul who found it.”

That explains why every muscle and fibre of her lower leg feels as if they’re being chewed up by Dwellers.

Too tired for any witty remarks, Dove silently watches Jacques lift her leg onto his lap, the smallest movements making her whimper. With the utmost care, he slowly unwinds the bandages from her limb to expose the severity of the wound.

Her stomach turns at the sight. Rows of teeth-like gashes spread around her leg, still raw and bloody, and the skin around them already turning a grotesque bruising colour. Jacques managed stopping the bleeding by giving her stitches, but it does nothing to stop the excruciating pain that accompanies the horror of seeing it for herself.

“You were losing quite a lot of blood,” the healer says while studying the stitches, ensuring that all were still intact. “You wouldn’t have made it back to the castle in time, so your father ordered to set up camp for the evening. He’s out with Gus ensuring that no Dwellers got a whiff of your blood.”

“And…Rubin?” She grinds on her teeth when he turns her foot an inch to the side. However, she briefly forgets about the pain when her question caused him to huff in…was that annoyance?

“Prince Charming’s getting a fire going with his father. We’re having deer for dinner.”

No doubt the one she shot.

Dove wonders if she should ask him about last night. Now would be a good time for it with her father and Gustav temporarily gone. But then again, a part of her was too sacred to speak up, afraid that what he’ll say in return will hurt more than the throbbing wounds on her leg.

Jacques finishes checking her stitches before she can decide whether to ask or leave it be. Reaching over to the table for a cotton wad and the bowl of water, he concludes, “The good news is that, with a strong dose of vampire blood, it’ll heal in a few days. The bad news is, I’ll have to clean and redress it every few hours, so it doesn’t get infected.”

Her heart drops to her stomach. After assisting him with his healing for little over two years, she figured as much. “Just…be quick, please.”

Jacques finally looks up to meet her eyes, remorse raging in his warm gaze at what he’s about to put her through. He never wants to hurt her, even when it means to save her life. But he also would never allow another healer to touch her, fearing they’ll do worse. Dove couldn’t be in better hands – the best, to be honest.

He nods, offering her a silent promise that he won’t drag this out longer than necessary.

Preparing herself for the pain, she shuts her eyes, not wishing to see what’ll happen next, and clench her fists around the blankets.

The second the cotton grazes the wound, white-hot flames spiderwebs through her leg. Unable to suppress it, she shrieks, her cries travelling past the tent for every human, vampire – and possibly Dweller – to hear.

“I’m so sorry, Princess. It hurts, I know.” Jacques attempts to comfort her, but she hardly hears him through the shrill ringing in her ears.

Another dab to a particular raw part of the wound has her arching her back and thrashing, giving the healer a hard time of holding her still.

“Almost done,” Jacques promises.

She is crying by now, chest heaving unevenly while her hands alternate between grabbing at her hair and the blankets. The pain is consuming, twisting and clawing at her every nerve and muscle.

“You’re doing so good, precious Dove. Just a little more.”

Concentrating on Jacques’ voice and praises, she breathes through the agony until it slowly dulls. Cracking open her eyes, Dove notices him drizzling her wounds with a silky white ointment – poppy milk for the pain. It must be a higher concentrated concoction, seeing as the effects quickly kick in, easing the trauma she’s just experienced.

Weak and exhausted, her eyes study him as he wraps her leg in clean bandages, moving to toss the old ones with the bloody rags.

“Wait,” she chokes out, reaching for his hand. “Don’t go yet.”

“Of course, not.” Grabbing a wet towel to clean the blood off his hands, Jacques sits back down at her side. Smiling softly, he adds, “I wouldn’t leave my favourite patient without ensuring that she takes her medicine. Drink up, Princess.”

He hands her an all too familiar red potion, one she knows contains a few drops of vampire blood to speed up the healing process.

While Dove slowly sips the potion, Jacques proceeds to check her head and eyes, ensuring that didn’t have any more injuries he could’ve missed. All the while he was examining her, she stared into his warm eyes, uncaring if he notices.

She had always thought of him as attractive but is has never become more apparent than in that moment. His hair framing his face and falling into his eyes, the little cleft on his chin he usually hides underneath his stubble, the delicate upturn of his mouth corners even while he’s concentrating to be gentle, and gods, his gentleness. It’s one of the biggest things she loves about him…

Dove’s heart jolts when she realized what she just thought.

Did she love him?

“Does this hurt?” Jacques asks after giving her knee a firm squeeze. He had moved down her body in his examination without her even realizing it.

Dove shakes her head, still reeling from her earlier thoughts. “No.”

“He leaves a burning trail in his wake as his hands glide down the calf of her good leg, skilfully feeling for any abnormalities. “What about here?”

Her heart thumps heavily from the feeling of him touching her, even if only for the sake of her wellbeing. Drunk on the feeling, she hardly thinks twice before blurting out the first thought that comes to her mind, “Don’t stop.”

Eyes widening at what she just said, Dove gasps and clamps a hand over her mouth. But it’s too late. Jacques had heard all of it, his head snapping up from her leg to look at her in complete and utter shock. For once, she can’t read what he’s thinking, mainly because she didn’t know what she was thinking herself.

Dammit, Dove!

“I’m sorry,” she rambles, paler than she was after being caught in a beartrap. “That wasn’t…I shouldn’t have said it out loud.”

“But you were *thinking* it?” Jacques’ brows nearly arch to his hairline.

“No! Yes. Maybe?” She says sheepishly.

“*Maybe*?” He breathes a laugh of pure astonishment. “Dove, *please* tell me that I’m wrong for assuming that you’re entertaining a certain fantasy in that head of yours. One that, might I add, is forbidden and wrong in every possible way.”

Dove shuts her mouth and guiltily stares down at her hands, thus giving him his answer.

Jacques draws a slow, wavering breath as he wraps his head around this revelation. Clenching his jaw, he abruptly stands up from the bed. “I think you should sleep a while, Princess. It’s the poppy milk taking effect.”

Knowing this is as good as this conversation will end, Dove nods and quietly says, “You’re right, I am not myself. I shall sleep for a bit. Thank you for my leg.”

Lying down, Dove turns on her side to face away from him, not wishing him to see the disappointment on her face. He lingers for a few seconds before stepping out of the tent, leaving her with a pain in her chest that hurts more than any wound ever could.