Page 74 of Alchemised

She wanted to close the wounds, but there was too much interference channelled through the incisions. It would kill any new tissue.

If she could get him healthy again, then his body might work with her to close them, but that would take time. As much as it had taken for him to reach that point.

She used her vivimancy to remove the dead tissue and then went to her satchel, rummaging through her supplies for the little medical kit she’d repacked. She debated running to Headquarters, but it would take too long.

She sorted through what she’d foraged that morning, trying to think of what would be useful.

Sedatives and transmutational interference didn’t work, but topical treatments might still have an effect. They would at least prevent infection. She’d make a transdermal salve with a prolonged release. Shiseo would be sure to have ideas.

She gnawed her lip as she pulled out a salve she’d made with her willow bark, tapping her fingers on the lid, wishing she had something with opium in it. It would do for now and keep the wounds clean until she came back.

She coated the incisions with the analgesic, emptying the entire jar, and then placed gauze over each one, sprinkling dried sphagnum over them to keep the wounds acidic and prevent infection, before swathing his back in bandages.

She knew she should wake him, but he was exhausted. He could use the rest.

Reaching out tentatively, she tucked his dark hair back from his face. His features were sunken, hollows in his cheeks, temples, and eyes, all that eerie youth gone.

He looked broken.

She fidgeted with her nails, wishing there was something else to do, as she fought back the storm of emotions in her chest. She was so accustomed to resenting him, to seeing him as a threat to her and everyone else.

She thought of him flipping that silver coin and telling her what the Eternal Flame needed for the attack. He’d known he’d be punished.

His rambling, barely conscious comments about purposefully provoking another commander to gain control of a new district: She’d brushed them off, attributing them to ego and stupidity. He’d been building up to this all along.

He could have made it a trap. He could have spent the last several months drip-feeding the Eternal Flame inaccurate information to execute a perfect sabotage. Instead he’d given them more than they’d dreamed they could achieve in a year, knowing he’d pay the price.

And he’d thought she’d known. The thought gutted her. That he’d thought she knew and had abandoned him to this.

She touched his temple, leaning closer, searching his face. “Why are you doing this?”

When she couldn’t justify keeping him unconscious for any longer, she laced her fingers through his hair and woke him as slowly as she could so that the pain wouldn’t hit immediately.

As he was regaining consciousness, she took his nearest hand, careful not to shift his shoulder as she started massaging the palm and worked slowly to his fingertips, knuckle by knuckle, her resonance seeking out every bit of tension and knotted muscles.

Her father used to massage her hands like that, even before Paladia. Every night. An alchemist’s hands were like a surgeon’s, he’d said, they had to be taken care of.

She knew Ferron didn’t need it. It was only meaningful to her, but it was all she could do.

The instant he became conscious, she could feel the tension radiate across his body. His eyes snapped open, his pupils contracting with pain. His fingers spasmed against hers, but he lay there unmoving, and so she kept working along his fingers.

His eyes weren’t quite focused yet.

“What did you do?” he finally asked.

Helena wet her lips. “I drew out all the infected blood and removed the dead tissue, then applied an analgesic salve to the incisions and got you bandaged. It’s not the most effective treatment, but I think it’ll help until I can make something better back at Headquarters.

I—I can’t close the incisions yet, but I might be able to eventually, once you’re stronger. If you can recover some first.”

He pulled his hand away and slowly got up as she was speaking. It had to be agony to move, but he didn’t make a sound, although he wavered as if on the verge of fainting as he pushed himself off the table.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, reaching for his shirt. “Healing me isn’t your job.”

“Your wounds need to be monitored and watched for infection or further deterioration. And the bandages should be changed at least once a day,” she said, stepping forward and blocking him.

“Unfortunate,” was all he said.

“Ferron.” She took his shirt away from him. “I know you’re not used to it, but you need medical care. If you leave things as they are, you’ll probably die—or maybe something worse.”

He gave a rasping laugh. “Marino, that is the point. You think Bennet did this expecting it to work?”

“But I can help you,” she said desperately, helping him slip his shirt on, trying to prove how useful she could be.

“Listen. I have a laboratory. I’m good at chymiatria.

I’ll make a salve for you, it’ll be topical so it’ll work on the incisions.

I’ll come every day to change your bandages and make sure nothing goes wrong. ”

“Really, you have time for all that?” His expression was scathing.

“I’ll make time. I’ll come every day. Please.”

He seemed caught off guard. “Fine,” he said, looking away from her. “Eight o’clock in the evening. But if you make me come here, and you don’t show up, I won’t come back again.”

“I’ll come,” she promised. “Every evening at eight.”

She might need new papers to get permission, but she’d make Crowther give them to her. Or forge them herself.

She buttoned his shirt, pausing when her fingers were just below the dip of his throat. His bones showed through his skin, the dark-coloured veins still visible. “I’m so sorry, Kaine.”

His expression was almost blank with exhaustion, but he quirked an eyebrow. It had less of an effect when she could see all the effort it took.

“If I’d known healing would make you so familiar, I would have said no.” He almost sounded like himself.

She shrugged and picked up his cloak, doubtful about the added weight on his back. “Should I not call you Kaine? It seems odd to keep going by surnames. We’re going to be around each other for the rest of our lives, you know.”

He looked heavenwards and sighed. “I don’t care what you call me, but I’m not changing anything.”

“Good. Then it’s Kaine now.”

She needed to make herself think about him differently. She’d made too many wrong assumptions while seeing him as Ferron.

“I’m a bit out of the loop at the moment, but I do know where Bennet’s new lab is.” He gave a strained smile. “He likes them near the water. One of the warehouses near the West Island shipyard. I’ll bring a map next time.”