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Chapter Fifty

B riony

I’m dozing when the door opens again and the doctor comes in accompanied by two nurses.

“Ahh, you’re awake,” she says, striding to the machines above my head and checking the readings. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I say, “very ready to leave.”

“Are you?” She laughs. “Most of my patients appreciate the opportunity to rest and have a break from the academy.”

“I’d rather get back to my friends.”

“And we’ll get you back to them as fast as we can.” I nod eagerly. “But not until we’re 100% satisfied that you’re better.”

“You know the treatment isn’t quite so thorough over at the commoners’ clinic.”

“Yes,” the doctor says, stiffly, “but this is the shadow weaver clinic. You’re very fortunate Professor Tudor brought you here. That the Princes are your protectors. I’m not sure they would have had the resources or the skills to have saved you over at the commoners’ clinic.”

“That hardly seems fair, does it?” I say, just as stiffly.

The doctor ignores my comment, taking my arm in her hand and feeling for my pulse.

“Much stronger.” She closes her eyes and I feel her magic penetrate under my skin and into my body.

“The healing is working,” she murmurs, “although there is still some damage to that ruptured spleen,” one of the nurses scribbles down notes on a clipboard, “and some bleeding on that right kidney.” She opens her eyes and looks at me.

“They really gave you a thorough kicking.”

“Uh huh,” I say, despite all the healing the doctor has done, my body is still littered with bruises and cuts from the attack.

She closes her eyes again. “I’m going to work on healing these some more. It may feel a little uncomfortable.” She mumbles something under her breath, her brow crinkling with concentration, and a peculiar sensation crawls under my skin.

I was unconscious for the previous healing by the medical staff and she is right, it isn't exactly pleasant. Not like when Beaufort has healed me. That was incredibly pleasant, bordering on seductive. This is not. I grit my teeth and try to think about something else.

The minutes tick by and a sheen of sweat appears on the doctor's brow as sweat trickles down my neck. I want to ask her to stop but she must already think I’m a complete pathetic weakling.

Finally, however, she does, releasing my hand with a loud exhale of air .

She wipes the back of her hand over her brow.

“There,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “The spleen is healed and the kidney has stopped bleeding. I may need to do some more work on that. I’ll check again in a few hours.” She smiles at me. “You did well.”

“I did?” I say, surprised.

“Oh yeah,” she says, “most grown men are begging me to stop after just a few minutes.”

The nurses titter and they gather up their equipment and head to the door.

“We’ll be back in another couple of hours to check on you. If you need anything in the meantime, just ring the buzzer.”

“Thank you,” I say. I hesitate. There’s something else I want to ask the doctor, but I’m not sure if I’m brave enough.

She’s almost through the door, following the nurses, when I make up my mind that I am. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” she says.

“Could I … could I talk to you alone for a moment?”

She shuts the door behind her and walks back over to the bed. “How can I help?” she asks.

“Does doctor–patient confidentiality apply in this clinic?” I bet it does for the shadow weavers but do the same rules apply to me?

“Of course.” She eyes me. “If you are at all concerned you may have been pregnant–”

“Pregnant?!” I screech. “No!”

“We ran a test just to make sure. It’s surprisingly common.”

“That … that wasn’t it.” I shake my head. “We use protection.” My cheeks sizzle.

She nods. “We can give you the shot if you’re interested. It’s more reliable. ”

“Thank you.” Maybe that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “That would be good. But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask you about … although I guess it is sort of related.”

She looks at me with puzzlement. “Are you worried about sexually transmitted diseases, because we checked for those too.”

“Good to know,” I say, with a half-smile. “Can you … do you know much about fated mates? I mean, scientifically or medically.”

The book the library threw at me (literally) had a lot of information, but most of it read like myth and legend. There was nothing scientific about it.

She stares at me and then her eyes drift to the door.

I don’t know if she suspects I’m talking about me and the Princes – me, the Princes and the professor.

But I bet if she did suspect that, she’d dismiss it pretty quickly.

Then again, it would account for the fact they’re all lurking about the hospital.

“It isn’t my area of expertise, but I do know a little. What would you like to know?”

“If there’s any truth in it. If it’s all just mumbo jumbo.”

“No more than any other type of magic,” she says.

“It just sounds so incredible.”

“I’ve brought patients back to life who were on the brink of death – including, Miss Storm, you. A lot of magic is incredible.”

“But how does it–”

“Work?” She slides her hands into the pockets of her white coat and considers my question.

“It is hard to explain when you aren’t a shadow weaver yourself.

” She clicks her tongue, searching for a way of explaining.

“The magic that exists in our veins is a part of us, is ours, but it also has a mind of its own.” She scoffs.

“That may sound ridiculous to someone who can’t wield magic. ”

“It doesn’t,” I say, thinking of the way Thorne struggles to control his magic.

“I don’t have a fated mate, but the way I’ve heard it explained is that sometimes our magic meets its match.

Magic to which it has a connection.” She jingles something in her pocket.

“Of course, there are theories that all magic originated from one place – that it was split and given to shadow weavers. That each time a shadow weaver is born that magic is split a bit more. It’s why some people believe our magic is weakening over time.

And that with the phenomena of fated mates – it’s just the magic recombining. ”

“Weakening?” I say. I’ve never heard that before.

The doctor blinks as if just realizing who she’s talking to.

“It’s just one theory,” she mumbles.

“And how is that different from bond brothers?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. A romantic would say because there’s love involved. A cynic because there’s a sexual attraction. Either way, I believe the connection between fated mates is even stronger than it is between bonded brothers – or sisters.”

“But I don’t have magic,” I say, “so how could this apply to me?”

“To you?” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe it’s possible for a commoner – someone without magic – to have a fated mate.”

I fall silent, considering the implication of her words.

“Was there anything else?”

“No, no, that was all. Thank you. ”

“Good, then try and rest. I’m hoping we’ll have you out of here tomorrow.”

She leaves and a few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I murmur still lost in my thoughts.

The professor enters followed by Beaufort.

“Is Thorne back yet?” I ask.

“No,” Beaufort says, “not yet.” I nod my head. “The doctor says you’re making good progress towards healing.”

“Yeah,” I say, wringing the blanket between my hands.

“What’s wrong?” Fox asks. “If you’re worried about things between all of us, we’ve talked it out.”

I swing my gaze from Fox to Beaufort. “Talked what out exactly?” And is it my imagination or do both these hulking great men with boundless powers look down right sheepish?

“We are going to work together to protect you,” Fox says.

“If you think I’m going to be your thrall–”

“You’re my mate,” he says.

“We won’t stand in your way of that,” Beaufort mumbles, not looking particularly happy. Is he suggesting … I swallow.

“Do you ever feel like things are spiraling out of your control?” I whisper. “That nothing makes sense around you and you’re struggling to hold all the pieces together at once – to understand what it can mean?”

Fox meets my gaze. “All the time.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I feel like the answer is right there staring me in the face … it’s just out of my reach. Only, I can’t quite grasp it, can’t quite bring it into focus.”