Page 48 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf

We approach the gymnasium doors, and the sound of many voices grows louder. Maeve pauses before we enter, turning to face me.

"Lorian," she says softly, her green eyes meeting mine. "About last night…"

"I have no regrets," I tell her immediately, my voice low but firm. “Never will.”

Her face softens. "Neither do I. Not a single one."

She reaches up and brushes something from behind my ear. "Missed a spot," she whispers, showing me a pink sparkle on her fingertip. The simple touch sends electricity through me.

Before I can respond, the gymnasium doors swing open, and Principal Braggstone's massive frame fills the doorway. His gray-green skin looks particularly sallow under the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, Dr. Reizenhart. Finally," he booms, his voice carrying across the crowded gym. "Parents and children are ready for you."

His eyes flick between Maeve and me, narrowing slightly. "We have a lot of children to see. We should start right away. No time for chitchat."

Maeve's shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly. "Dr. Reizenhart and I have prepared enough tonic for every child in the school," she says, her professional smile firmly in place.

"Excellent, excellent," Braggstone says, clapping his huge hands together once. "Let's not keep everyone waiting, shall we?"

He gestures us into the gymnasium with exaggerated formality. As I pass him, he leans slightly closer than necessary. "Remember our discussion, Doctor," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.

I pretend I don’t hear him. Maeve is my True Mate. I have no fear of him. Braggstone can do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t lay a finger on Maeve.

The gymnasium has been transformed into a makeshift distribution center. Folding tables line one wall, with chairs arranged in waiting areas. Parents and children form queues, some sitting, othersstanding in small clusters. Teachers move between groups, maintaining order with gentle redirections.

Maeve leads me to a table at the far end, already set up with empty cups, tissues, and clipboards. I arrange the vials in perfect rows, ensuring the labels face outward for easy identification. The dark liquid inside looks exactly like what it is. Bitter medicine with no concession to palatability.

"First group approaching," Maeve warns quietly.

I straighten up as a small human boy in a superhero t-shirt approaches with his mother. His face is scattered with freckles, ordinary ones, not the glowing variety that indicates full-blown Pixie-Pox, and his expression is openly curious as he looks at our array of vials.

"Good morning," I greet them with what I hope is a warm smile.

I measure the dark liquid precisely into a small cup and hold it out to the child, then look at the mother. "This will prevent any Pixie-Pox infection for the next two weeks."

The boy leans forward and takes a cautious sniff. His face contorts dramatically, and he recoils as if struck.

"Ew! It smells like troll farts!"

The blunt assessment echoes in the sudden silence that falls over our corner of the gymnasium. My cheeks warm at the child's outburst.

"Young man," I begin stiffly, "medicinal efficacy is more importantthan—"

"I'm not drinking that!" the boy declares, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "It's gross!"

His mother looks apologetically at me, then at the tonic.

"Maybe if it was sweetened a little? Or flavored?"

"Altering the formula could potentially reduce its effectiveness," I explain, attempting to maintain my professional demeanor. "The unpleasant taste is a small price to pay for preventing weeks of illness."

The boy's lower lip begins to tremble. "I don't care! I won't drink it!"

From the corner of my eye, I see Principal Braggstone watching the scene unfold, a barely concealed smirk on his face. Other parents shift uncomfortably, exchanging glances. A young girl in line behind the boy now stares at the vials with growing alarm.

"The tonic is not mandatory," I find myself saying. "However, without it, the risk of contracting Pixie-Pox increases significantly."

"Come on, buddy," the mother coaxes her son. "Just take it quick."