Page 97
Story: Of Flames and Fallacies
He stiffens, squeezing his eyes shut and quiets. I muffle a laugh, knowing it was a slight over-exaggeration by Marge. The door creaks open, and in walks Melaina cradling an arm.
Her brown eyes flick up to meet mine as she breathes. “Hi…”
I help her settle into the bed next to Archie as Marge finishes stitching his wound closed.
Out of my periphery, Archie shifts to sit up a little straighter. He tosses a nonchalant glance our way. “Melaina, right?”
She nods with a slight smile. “Yes.”
“Archie Stormbane.” There’s a certainty to his voice I’ve yet to witness—as if he’s mustering every ounce of control into those two words. Feigning confidence.
Marge finishes stitching Archie’s arm and hobbles over to Melaina. “How can we help you, Melaina?”
Melaina flinches, dumbfounded. “I…umm, seem to have done something to my arm. I was hoping someone could take a look.”
With Marge’s instruction, I sit next to Archie to dress his newly-stitched wound.
Marge twists and turns Melaina’s arm, her eyes narrowing with each flicker of movement. “Are you sure this hurts? I don’t see any cuts, bruises, or lacerations. And you don’t seem to flinch any which way I move it.”
A faint blush creeps onto Melaina’s cheeks, and she flinches. “I—I guess it kind of hurts like that.”
But her delayed reaction makes me turn away toward Archie to hide a smile. She’s faking her injury, for whatever reason. My eyes connect with Archie’s, and I have a sneaking suspicion I might know why.
Marge catches on too, as she rakes Melaina with a head-to-toe glare. “Well, you seem fine to me. Come back if it hurts again. We’ve got enough to do here.”
She brushes Melaina out the door and turns back to me and Archie, who’s watching Melaina leave. Marge pauses, resting her hands on her hips as she flicks a look back and forth between Archie and me.
“Well?” she challenges.
I blink, realizing I haven’t quite finished wrapping Archie’s arm and spin the fabric around his arm frantically. Archie drags his gaze down to my working hands, clearly not wanting to make eye contact with Marge.
I pat Archie’s shoulder. “There you go, Arch. All done.”
He pulls up his arm, flexing the bicep and winces at the motion.
I swat his arm down by the wrist. “Don’t do that, you’ll aggravate the stitches. Now…let’s take a look at your leg.”
“Are you asking me to take my pants off?” His cheeks redden. “Because I’m fine. Truly.”
“Would you rather Marge look?” I ask.
Too late—Marge closes in.
He stiffens, his wide eyes flicking back to me with a shake of his head. “This is so embarrassing...”
“Nonsense! It’s part of our job,” I encourage.
With a defeated sigh, he glances away from us as he shimmies his trousers down so we can assess his thigh. Rich purple and black rings mottle his pale skin. Marge lifts his leg and shifts it side to side, round and round, despite his grunts.
Marge hands him a vial of green liquid. “I don’t think it’s broken. Might be badly bruised. But drink this, and take it easy for the next week. You’ve suffered a lot of blood loss from that cut on your arm.” She darts a look over to me. “Katerina, can you take him back to his room? I want to keep the beds open in case any other patients come in.”
By the time Archie and I step out into camp, the rush of adrenaline wears and wanes, leaving a dragging exhaustion weighing down each of my steps. Dawn can’t be more than a few hours away. Carlisle leads the Blackfell civilians to the barracks, while Cole gathers several patrols to perimeter the area. Lucky for us, it seems like Blackfell wasn’t a trap. Yet still, a nervous buzz lingers in camp.
“Daeja, are you back at the lake? It looks like they are doubling down on patrols. I’m sure Cole will keep the patrols off the southern part of the lake, but just in case, stick to the shadows.”
She yawns, the sound splitting my ears.“Got it. I planned on sleeping, anyway. I’m quite tired.”
“You helped me save all of those civilians tonight.”And yet, they would never know a dragon was the reason I was able to free them. Had it only been me, I likely wouldn’t have beenable to escape the rebel holding them hostage.“And you saved me...thank you.”
Her brown eyes flick up to meet mine as she breathes. “Hi…”
I help her settle into the bed next to Archie as Marge finishes stitching his wound closed.
Out of my periphery, Archie shifts to sit up a little straighter. He tosses a nonchalant glance our way. “Melaina, right?”
She nods with a slight smile. “Yes.”
“Archie Stormbane.” There’s a certainty to his voice I’ve yet to witness—as if he’s mustering every ounce of control into those two words. Feigning confidence.
Marge finishes stitching Archie’s arm and hobbles over to Melaina. “How can we help you, Melaina?”
Melaina flinches, dumbfounded. “I…umm, seem to have done something to my arm. I was hoping someone could take a look.”
With Marge’s instruction, I sit next to Archie to dress his newly-stitched wound.
Marge twists and turns Melaina’s arm, her eyes narrowing with each flicker of movement. “Are you sure this hurts? I don’t see any cuts, bruises, or lacerations. And you don’t seem to flinch any which way I move it.”
A faint blush creeps onto Melaina’s cheeks, and she flinches. “I—I guess it kind of hurts like that.”
But her delayed reaction makes me turn away toward Archie to hide a smile. She’s faking her injury, for whatever reason. My eyes connect with Archie’s, and I have a sneaking suspicion I might know why.
Marge catches on too, as she rakes Melaina with a head-to-toe glare. “Well, you seem fine to me. Come back if it hurts again. We’ve got enough to do here.”
She brushes Melaina out the door and turns back to me and Archie, who’s watching Melaina leave. Marge pauses, resting her hands on her hips as she flicks a look back and forth between Archie and me.
“Well?” she challenges.
I blink, realizing I haven’t quite finished wrapping Archie’s arm and spin the fabric around his arm frantically. Archie drags his gaze down to my working hands, clearly not wanting to make eye contact with Marge.
I pat Archie’s shoulder. “There you go, Arch. All done.”
He pulls up his arm, flexing the bicep and winces at the motion.
I swat his arm down by the wrist. “Don’t do that, you’ll aggravate the stitches. Now…let’s take a look at your leg.”
“Are you asking me to take my pants off?” His cheeks redden. “Because I’m fine. Truly.”
“Would you rather Marge look?” I ask.
Too late—Marge closes in.
He stiffens, his wide eyes flicking back to me with a shake of his head. “This is so embarrassing...”
“Nonsense! It’s part of our job,” I encourage.
With a defeated sigh, he glances away from us as he shimmies his trousers down so we can assess his thigh. Rich purple and black rings mottle his pale skin. Marge lifts his leg and shifts it side to side, round and round, despite his grunts.
Marge hands him a vial of green liquid. “I don’t think it’s broken. Might be badly bruised. But drink this, and take it easy for the next week. You’ve suffered a lot of blood loss from that cut on your arm.” She darts a look over to me. “Katerina, can you take him back to his room? I want to keep the beds open in case any other patients come in.”
By the time Archie and I step out into camp, the rush of adrenaline wears and wanes, leaving a dragging exhaustion weighing down each of my steps. Dawn can’t be more than a few hours away. Carlisle leads the Blackfell civilians to the barracks, while Cole gathers several patrols to perimeter the area. Lucky for us, it seems like Blackfell wasn’t a trap. Yet still, a nervous buzz lingers in camp.
“Daeja, are you back at the lake? It looks like they are doubling down on patrols. I’m sure Cole will keep the patrols off the southern part of the lake, but just in case, stick to the shadows.”
She yawns, the sound splitting my ears.“Got it. I planned on sleeping, anyway. I’m quite tired.”
“You helped me save all of those civilians tonight.”And yet, they would never know a dragon was the reason I was able to free them. Had it only been me, I likely wouldn’t have beenable to escape the rebel holding them hostage.“And you saved me...thank you.”
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