Chapter 15 Sylvia - Amelia’s POV
I picked up a spoon and tried the soup first—a clear broth with tender vegetables and herbs. The flavour was subtle but more complex than anything I'd tasted in years. Next came a piece of bread dipped in olive oil, then a small portion of roasted chicken so tender it practically melted in my mouth. I took small bites, moving from dish to dish, afraid my stomach would rebel if I ate too much too quickly.
The television hummed quietly in the background—another luxury I still couldn't believe was mine to control. Some news program about city developments that I barely registered, the unfamiliar voices providing a comforting buffer against the silence.
I ate until I couldn't anymore, which was disappointingly little compared to the bounty provided. Leaving the plates on the cart as instructed, I settled into a deep armchair that seemed to swallow me whole, my body suddenly heavy with exhaustion.
The news program blurred before my eyes, voices fading as sleep crept over me. I fought it briefly, old instincts warning that falling asleep meant vulnerability. But the pain in my back had dulled to a distant throb, and the chair was so comfortable...
A firm knock jolted me awake. Sunlight had shifted across the floor—I'd been asleep for at least an hour. Disoriented, I stumbled to the door, opening it to find Mira standing beside an older woman with steel-grey hair pulled into a severe bun.
"Sorry to disturb you," Mira said, nodding toward the cart. "I've just come for the dishes. And this is Sylvia Blackwood, the castle's head healer."
The older woman's eyes assessed me with clinical precision. "His Majesty asked me to tend to your injuries."
Mira collected the cart with a reassuring smile, leaving me alone with the healer. Sylvia's face was lined with age, but her movements were brisk and efficient as she set down a leather medical bag on the coffee table.
"Where are the silver burns, child?" she asked, her voice gentler than her appearance suggested.
"My back," I answered, suddenly acutely aware of them again, as if her question had reignited the pain.
'We need help,' Kaela said softly when I hesitated. 'Let her see.'
With trembling fingers, I reached for the zipper of my dress, turning away as I pulled it down far enough to expose my back, holding the fabric against my chest to maintain some modesty. The air felt cool against the exposed wounds.
"Jesus Christ," Sylvia swore, her professional detachment slipping. "Who did this to you?"
"Beta Dominic," I whispered, the name catching in my throat. "From the Frozen Mountain Pack."
"I need to clean these thoroughly," she said, her voice tight with controlled anger. "I can see silver fragments still embedded in some of these cuts. Whoever did this deliberately kept his blade dull, didn't he?"
I nodded, unable to speak as memories of that night flooded back. My body tensed involuntarily.
"I'm not angry at you," Sylvia clarified quickly, noting my reaction. "I'm angry at whoever thought this was acceptable treatment of anyone, let alone a young wolf."
She applied a cooling gel to my back that numbed the worst of the pain, then began the careful work of cleaning each cut. I bit my lip to keep from crying out when she had to dig deeper to remove embedded silver fragments.
"These deeper ones need stitches to prevent reopening," she explained, her hands steady and sure. "I'll be as quick as I can."
The process was painful but bearable, made easier by Sylvia's efficient movements and occasional words of encouragement. When she finally finished and applied a thick layer of salve, the relief was immediate—like cool water on a burn.
"This needs to be applied once daily," she instructed, packing her supplies back into her bag. "I'll come each morning. The silver won't allow these to heal as quickly as normal injuries, but this salve should speed the process considerably."
"Thank you," I said, carefully pulling my dress back up, wincing as the fabric settled against my treated wounds.
"Are there any other injuries I should know about?" Sylvia asked, her gaze direct but kind.
I froze, thinking of the cigarette burns on my legs, the poorly-healed rib that still ached when I breathed too deeply. Shame washed over me, hot and suffocating.
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "No, this is the worst of it."
Sylvia didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she reached out and squeezed my hand gently.
"Alright, child. Try to rest as much as you can. And shower in the morning before I apply the next treatment, so you don't wash the salve off unnecessarily."
I nodded, thanking her again as she gathered her things and left. When the door closed behind her, I curled into a tight ball in the armchair, my knees pulled to my chest despite the protest from my back.
'You should have told her about the rest,' Kaela said softly.
"Not yet," I whispered into the empty room, my voice small and lost. "I can't... not yet."
The luxury surrounding me suddenly felt paper-thin, a beautiful veneer over the broken girl I still was beneath it all.