Page 100 of Daughter of the Serpent

“Isn’t that used for the rite?” Sylvie asked, startled. “I’ve never seen it used by the healers. Nor have they ever asked me to collect it.”

“Nor would they. It is used in ceremonies, but it is also a good tonic for pain - yet they wouldn’t use it in the temple, due to the restrictions.” He assured her. “I’ll give him just enough to dull the pain.”

“It won’t put him into trance?” she asked.

“Not in small doses.” He told her as he gathered his coat, slipping it over his shoulders.

“He won’t approve.” She told him.

“He doesn’t need to know.” He whispered. “But we can’t have him noticeably injured, people will ask questions.”

She nodded, agreeing.

“I’ll tell him it’s merely a daily tonic to refresh him.”

“Very well.” She agreed.

Godick nodded before slipping past her into the night, closing the door firm behind him.

Sylvie stepped closer to Haldor, the firelight casting shifting patterns across his now bare torso. His body bore the marks of his training, each scar a testament to the years spent perfecting his skills with bow, sword, and shield. He was every inch a warrior, his strength and resilience evident in every muscle, every hardened line. But now, as she watched him sit there, vulnerable and injured, she saw him in a different light - one she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. Haldor had always seemed indestructible, fierce, and untouchable, a force of nature. Yet now, with the flicker of pain in his eyes and the tension in his posture, he seemed unmistakably human.

It made her think of what was to come.

She had never worried for him facing the trials, any given test given by the gods, yet now, she began to see that she would need toface reality. Haldor was flesh and blood, and there was a high likelihood that anyone who faced the gods would fail.

“Hold still as I apply this.” She instructed as she came to his side, beginning to apply the poultice to his ribs carefully. Despite himself he flinched as she began to wrap his torso.

“Why won't you just let me try using my magic, it could help - - - - ”

Haldor’s eyes flitted to her, a mixture of pain and something else. “I don’t need magic,” he rasped.

Sylvie sighed heatedly, “Then what do you need?

“Just you.”

Sylvie’s hands paused for a fraction of a second, the weight of his words settling. Sylvie could feel the heat of his skin under her fingers, the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. Time seemed to slow, unspoken words passing between them as the fire flickered near them.

He inhaled sharply, his eyes studying her.

“That bear could’ve killed me…killed you.” Haldor said, his voice breaking the stillness as his hand came to her face, pushing back a lock of her hair behind her ear. Sylvie’s throat tightened as their gazes connected, her fingers still resting lightly against his skin.

“But it didn’t.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks to you.” He affirmed. “I don’t know what you did but whatever it was, saved our lives.”

For a heartbeat, it felt as though they might draw closer, the pull of something unspoken passing between them.

Did she want him to move closer or to pull away?

She was no longer sure.

“Let me tend to your arm.” She said, taking some of the torn cloth Godvick provided. “With any luck the ointment will be enough to heal without scars.”

“I don’t mind them.” He said simply, as he leaned back, his eyes studying her as she worked. Her fingers meet his skin, smoothing the herbal ointment along the jagged edges of the wound.

“Well that bear certainly wanted to leave its mark.”

“That was no normal bear.” He winced as she spread the ointment further.