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“Oh, Inkwell,” Lautric said.

Fern had almost forgotten her first conversation with Lautric outside Carthane’s gate. So much had happened since. She hastily tried to fasten her buttons while Lautric walked over to Inkwell and watched with some surprise as the small black cat allowed Lautric to scratch beneath his chin.

“He’s not normally so friendly,” she said.

Lautric turned with a half-smile, “Just like y—” He leapt back to his feet, startling both Fern and her cat. “Your arm!” He stepped towards Fern, Inkwell sweeping petulantly away from him as he did. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Fern stepped back. “It’s nothing, I fell. I’m fine, I assure you. It’s nothing.”

“Is it broken?”

“I…” Fern hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to check?”

Yes, thought Fern, but, more wisely, she said, “No, thank you. I’m sure it will be quite fine.”

“Fern.” Lautric’s tone was gentle; he moved towards her slowly, hands up, as though approaching some nervous forest creature. “Let me help. I am in your debt, after all. Consider it a repayment.”

After a moment of silence, Fern nodded. He was right, after all, she’d helped him with his poisoned leg. In a way, it meant she could accept his help without becoming indebted to him. And besides, she could not deny she was relieved for his presence, though she would not have admitted it aloud for all the books in Carthane.

“Let me look at your arm,” said Lautric, now standing in front of her.

Fern shook her head, gesturing at her shirt. “The sleeves are too narrow to push back. I need to take it off.”

Lautric said nothing and simply nodded. Colour had risen to his cheeks again, though he remained outwardly calm. Fern dropped her gaze, her heartbeat in her throat. She was sureshewould not be so nervous ifhischeeks weren’t so flushed. She reached for her buttons, clumsily pulling them free with one hand; the quicker she got this situation over with, the better.

“Here,” Lautric said. “Let me.”

Fern dropped her arms and turned her head to the side, refusing to make eye contact. Lautric undid her buttons, taking meticulous care to do so without touching her. The smell of him, the rich sweetness of brown sugar, seemed to fill the air.

Fern glanced at Inkwell, where he lay curled up on her coat. He stared back, blinking slowly, almost conspiratorially.

Buttons undone, Lautric slid the shirt back over Fern’s shoulders, pulling the right sleeve off first, then, with the utmost care, the left sleeve. Fern was painfully aware that she was now standing in her bra in front of Lautric, but he was gallant as ever, focusing completely on her left arm.

First, he gently lifted it, inspecting it with a concerned frown. Fern followed his gaze: her upper arm was fine, but an ugly bruise darkened her elbow where it had landed hard against the stone floor of the passageway. The skin below the bruise was swollen, almost deformed.

Fern closed her eyes. She should have been more careful.

“I’m going to touch you now,” Lautric said, voice low. “To feel if the bone is broken. It might hurt.”

Fern nodded, clenching her jaw. “Alright.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, and Lautric knelt in front of her, eyes raised up to hers. “Are you ready?”

“Mm-hm.”

He slid his long, slender fingers over her forearm, prodding lightly. His touch was warm and light, though it still sent fresh waves of agony up her arm when he reached her elbow. Fern bit down hard, swallowing back the whimpers of pain rising to her throat.

“You’ve definitely broken something in your elbow,” Lautric said. “I can try something—it’ll help a little ratherthan fix it entirely, but it’s probably going to hurt for a while, and you should almost certainly try to give it plenty of rest. Probably keep it in a sling until it feels better.”

He hesitated, then added, “An alchemist could probably fix your arm and create a salve for the pain, and a skilled elemencer might have a spell for speeding up cellular regeneration, but my spell is only a small alchemical symbol for restoration and the mending of broken things. I could take you to Anoush, if you wanted, or Emmeline and her brother.”

“No.” Fern sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was too tired for this. Oddly, she felt on the verge of tears. More oddly still, she wished for nothing but to stay here in her rooms, with Inkwell and Lautric. “Your alchemical spell is fine. Go ahead.”