Too many thoughts. So, she did what she always did when the mountain of responsibilities and troubles grew too high and threatened to smother her. She pushed them aside, and dealt with what was immediately on her plate.
“Yes. Dinner would be good. Before then I suggest you head to the bathhouse. A soak in one of the tubs will help reduce any residual soreness and should allow you to rise and walk tomorrow fairly pain free.”
“Hah. So you do admit you hit me hard?”
Alia shrugged, almost smiling. “I’m the Beast.” She reminded, in case he was in danger of forgetting. “I don’t know how to hit any other way.”
Chapter Fifteen
The sound of familiar footsteps had Brandth’s head whipping around so fast he almost gave himself neck strain. Finally. He’d been waiting all day for Perri to start her shift. He had questions, lots and lots of questions. Although the one that spilled from his lips had not been one he intended to ask.
“What are you wearing?” His gaze, no longer covered by a blindfold, drank in deeply all the details of her appearance.
“My healer’s uniform.” The tone was nothing but polite as Perri gestured to the long grey gown and large black apron she wore over it.
“Not the dress, woman. That. Why do you have that thing covering your face?” The dove grey scarf was pinned to the high collar of her gown and to a small cap she wore covering red hair that glinted sparks of fire thanks to the nearby lantern light. The heavy rope of it plaited back, the thick tail falling almost to her waist. “Is someone in here contagious? If so, I want one too.”
“No one in here is contagious.”
“Then why are you wearing such an encumbrance?”
Perri issued a terse sigh, Brandth thinking he was about to be blasted by waspish words. Instead, she took a deep breath, which drew his attention momentarily downwards. Hhmmm, nice full breasts, he remembered the feel of them pressed against his chest. “Sorry, what was that?”
“I said that my reasons for the veil are personal ones.” The tone polite, the words soft and measured.
“You’re… you’re not a nun or anything, are you?” Brandth liked nuns on the whole, most he found displayed an admirable sense of humour. But the idea of Perri being one. That for some reason made him equal parts angry and strangely bereft.
“I have taken no vows other than those required of healers. Now, how was your day?” Her hand resting lightly on his forehead for a moment. “The fever feels completely gone. That’s good. Did you sleep today?”
“Did you? I understand I must share my thanks, the orderly who bathed and shaved me this morning told me I spent… the night in your chambers. Yet, I have no memory of such events.”
“That’ll be the fever.”
“As you say. But still, you have my gratitude. I’ve seen patients with fever, I didn’t do or say anything untoward, did I?” Frustratingly, with that scarf in place, he couldn’t read any expressions on Perri’s face. And why did he keep recalling that day three years ago spent swimming in the clear dark blue waters of the Middle Isles?
“You were restless. But no more so than any other patient. Rest easy, you neither did or said anything that would cause you consternation.”
Her tone and words were nothing but soft, sweet and reassuring… and by the Gods, they annoyed Brandth. “I must have been quite the burden though if you are commencing work so late in the day.”
“Long sleepless nights are part and parcel of being a healer. I caught up what I lost during the day. But now… dinner? You must be hungry. I shall go fetch you some.”
Brandth watched as Healer Perri strode away, a dark wraith of grey quickly swallowed up by the shadows, only the occasional fiery glint from her hair catching the light to note her passing. All his instincts were… aroused, there was no better term to use. He had no idea what the woman looked like, and yet, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so intrigued by a female.
Just what was she hiding behind that veil and why? A beauty so entrancing she was tired of beating suitors away? She wasn’t shy. And she wasn’t sick. She was a mystery, that’s what she was. And damnation, Brandth loved a good mystery.
All day he’d felt her absence. With nothing to do but lie still and heal, he’d found himself missing their little spats. But now that she’d arrived, Perri appeared determined to keep things strictly professional. He was sure others were appreciative of her soothing gentle delivery… but Brandth found it irritating, false even. Just where had the real Perri gone, and perhaps the more important question, why was she turning over this new leaf? Why now?
Momentarily distracted from this new puzzle as dinner was served. The bowl of rich beef stew could not be faulted. Brandth watching Perri move around the lantern lit chamber whilst he ate. She was acting like a graceful restless ghost. Folding bandages. Righting bed linen. Rearranging the herbs on the nearby potion making table, though the bench did not seem cluttered or in need of attention.
A red fruit pudding finished Brandth’s meal with a sweet flourish that was much appreciated. Unfortunately though, now it was time for the dreaded elixir, pouring himself a fresh glass of water from the table next to his bed in readiness. He would need it to help wash the foulness away. Taking the vial from Perri, Brandth rather manfully downed the nasty stuff… except, it didn’t attack his tongue like a rancid five day dead grutling. Shockingly, it tasted like a mix of mead, honey, a dash of vanilla and distant medicinal notes that could barely be detected. What, in heaven’s name, was going on?
“Well done.” Perri taking the vial away from him, sounding as if he’d accomplished some great feat.
The mystery of what was going on with Perri deepened. Was she actually being… nice to him? Had someone reprimanded her? Or did she have some evil payback plan hiding up that long tight grey sleeve of hers?
Another thought occurred to Brandth. How far could he play this until he pushed her over the edge?
Over the next hour he had Perri fetch him three cups of tea; the first too hot, the second too bitter. Then he requested another pillow. No, her first offering was too fluffy. The second too hard. The third, he could just tell by looking at it, he advised Perri, that it would surely mat his hair into a terrible tangle.
