13 - Strong Enough

  For the next several days, Maeve did her best to make sure High Commander Voss had nothing more with which to question her adequacy. If she knew he would accompany her, she would take her rest right before she needed to go down to the cell. She looked for moments of stillness while waiting for suspensions to settle or the caldron to begin boiling, curling up in a small corner behind her thin partition or simply resting her eyes as she propped her chin on her hand and nodded off. She still burned the midnight oil. The others still seemed to ignore her. Even the knights had grown fond of ignoring her, especially after her conversation with Bran put a strain on her relationship with her one friend amid the Second Order. She still scowled every time she thought of what he told her.

  “You’re not strong enough.”

  Okay, maybe not in those exact words, but still - that’s exactly what he meant.

  Strong enough. Funny. He hadn’t thought that while they were growing up, struggling to gain every ounce of food and clothing they could, helping their caretakers provide for the littles when they got older. Things had never been easy in the church. They’d both survived worse than a few dirty looks and whispered rumors. She didn’t know what the hell he was on about.

  She worried sometimes that it was affecting the task of keeping the monster healthy. She had been unable to take a good look at his wounded eye for a few days now. In order to keep illness at bay, she’d given the knights a few bottles of medicine to dose his food with.

  “It might make his food taste funny, but it’ll keep most infections from setting in,” she told them.

  The knights took them and nodded politely, but she remembered the way they set the potions aside, almost like they were obliging a younger sister. She hoped they used it. She doubted they intended to.

  She found herself trotting across the courtyard of the tower early one morning. She had just gotten back from the academy where she had plied more information from the self-same friends who had helped her before. As Luka got more and more pliant despite some setbacks, she wanted to make sure the “training” wasn’t stagnating. And it was the perfect opportunity to do some deep diving into the mythology sections of the archives. She mumbled under her breath as she made mental ticks. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and that ended up being her downfall.

  As she looked up, her heart sank. A scowl replaced her smile. Her steps slowed and became more pronounced. All this at the sight of one bastard.

  Bran.

  He slouched against the wall next to the infirmary door, arms crossed over his chest. A light frown and a distant look were his only companions. Maeve didn’t want to see him. Not after what he tried to do last time they talked. But she needed to get to the infirmary and start her work. So, she determined to do the only thing she could do - ignore him.

  She straightened her back and lifted her chin, keeping her eyes on her goal. Bran saw her coming down the corridor and pushed himself off the wall.

  “Maeve,” he said breathlessly.

  But she only glared at him as she placed a hand on the handle to the infirmary. Bran wasn’t ready to let her go without trying to talk, however. He placed a hand on hers and said her name again.

  “Maeve, wait. I just want to -”

  He grunted as Maeve’s foot made contact with his shin. He doubled over and hopped backwards. Maeve hissed at him, seething.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “Not after what you did.”

  “I was only worried,” Bran said, each word punctuated by a short, pained gasp.

  “Then you talk to me about it. Don’t go behind my back and talk to the seniors. Reynold went to the high commander after you said something. Did you know that? Wanted me removed.”

  Bran paled. “I didn’t want that. I just…I wanted you safe.”

  Maeve kicked him again. He yelped and crouched low to the ground, clutching his leg.

  “If I needed your help, I would have asked,” she shouted. “Now go away and leave me alone. I have work to do.”

  She grabbed the handle again, but Bran’s voice stopped her only once more.

  “They’re not listening to you and that’s what’s dangerous,” he said softly.

  She glared back at him. “What do you know about it?”

  He stood slowly and winced as he stretched out his leg.

  “They don’t listen to you, and you’ll get yourself hurt or worse - removed from your position because you weren’t asking for help for it from the start,” Bran said.

  “Oh, so the solution then is to get me removed from my position?” Maeve asked.

  “No, that’s not-”

  “High Commander Voss gave me this task, and I’ll see it through. With or without anyone else to help,” she snapped. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop getting in my way.”

  Without further arguing, Maeve yanked the door open and stepped inside, slamming it in Bran’s face even as he tried to follow her. She growled in frustration before turning.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Oliver was bent over his workspace, a smirk on his face as he watched her.

  “Lover’s quarrel?” he asked without looking up.

  Maeve scowled at him and stalked towards the other end of the infirmary. The others looked to be out. Right. Inventory day. Oliver must have stayed behind for emergencies.

  Oliver skipped around his work station and followed her.

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  “So, did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Take the high commander’s out?”

  She glared up at him. “Of course not.”

  “Bad move, little healer. I know Senior Healer Reynold went to talk with the high commander,” he said. “Your precious knight lover-”

  “He is not my lover. Stop making accusations,” Maeve hissed.

  “Whatever he is, he’s on our side,” Oliver continued. “Don’t you think that means something, Maeve?”

  “I think it means I need better friends,” she muttered.

  Oliver rolled his eyes and stepped in front of her.

  “No. It means that you need to stop and think,” he said. “That thing will kill you. Or, you’ll make a mistake and kill someone else. And all because you ran before you could walk.”

  She looked up at him, startled.

  “Are you…jealous?”

  “Of you?” Oliver scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Maeve said, trying to push past him.

  “Okay, okay,” he said quickly. “Listen. I think there's been a misunderstanding between us.”

  Maeve’s eyes narrowed. His voice was softer suddenly. It felt worse than his condescension.

  “Misunderstanding?” she asked.

  “Yes. I don’t think you’re incapable,” he said. “In fact, I think you’re gifted. Amazing even. You were the same back in the academy. I just worry that you’ve taken on too much responsibility too fast. You’re young. Inexperienced. And I don’t think you understand what that thing is.”

  “I’m well aware he’s not a pet,” Maeve said coldly.

  Oliver nodded. “Of course you do. But Maeve, the real world isn’t a classroom. You are so free to make mistakes. And I just…wonder.”

  She looked at him blankly. “Wonder what?”

  He bit his bottom lip and leaned in as if he were sharing a secret.

  “Are you doing this because you want to get attention?”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “I think you’ve already made your point if that’s the case,” Oliver pressed on smoothly. “Your knight friend for example. He keeps sniffing around. Or maybe you want a better match. Someone safer. Another healer perhaps. Or some with real power.”

  “That’s-how dare-!”

  “If you’re not aiming for Voss,” he interrupted, “Maybe you want someone like Captain Hawthorne. I hear he’s single if a little grief stricken. But you like broken, don’t you?”

  “Healer Oliver!”

  Reynold’s voice boomed like thunder across the open space. They both flinched as the Senior Healer stomped into the infirmary, eyes blazing. Behind him, the others filed into the room, staring at the scene with wide eyes.

  “Senior Healer,” Oliver stammered. “I was just-”

  “You were just about to disgrace yourself,” Reynold snapped. “Your implications are crass and ill-based. How dare you sully your robes? You are to double check all the inventory counts on your own. Do not let me catch you harassing Healer Maeve again, or I will have to question your position here as well.”

  Oliver scowled and slunk away, shooting Maeve a look that promised trouble later. Maeve swallowed and glanced at Reynold. There was no way he had done this out of the kindness of his heart. But she still felt the need to thank him.

  “Thank you, sir,” she began to say.

  But the words died on her tongue as Reynold turns his scalding tongue on her.

  “Do not thank me, Healer Maeve. It is simply unbecoming for a gentleman of learning to stoop so low and behave in such a manner. Rather,” he continued, “you should, perhaps, focus on not antagonizing him.”

  Any icy feeling clutched at Maeve’s chest. She shut her mouth, eyes down as she fought the urge to protest, hands curling into fists.

  “I do not approve of you,” Reynold said, sniffing as if he were looking at something distasteful. “Though Healer Oliver may have been rather crass in his observations, he is right to question your placement at the head of this matter. You are young, prone to mistakes, and utterly naive in the ways of war and necessity. You entered this place upon word of mouth alone and then had the audacity to go behind my back to treat the monster without approval from myself or another senior healer. I don’t know what High Commander Voss is thinking, allowing you to continue with this charade, but I shall not question him. Because at least I know how to follow orders.”

  Maeve’s jaw clenched.

  “I also know how to follow orders,” she mumbled.

  Reynold, who had already turned to walk away, whipped around.

  “Excuse me?” he said coldly.

  “I also know how to follow orders,” Maeve repeated a little more boldly. “For example, the order to keep him alive and healthy. Not torture him by letting him stay in pain.”

  “How dare-”

  “Shock results in a lack of blood flow, multi-organ failure, and even death if not treated appropriately. Not to mention it keeps the subject highly incapable of speech. Which I thought was important seeing as we’re attempting to get information from him,” Maeve bit back.

  Reynold fumed, his face turning the color of radishes.

  “I may be young and inexperienced, but I received the same training you did,” she said a little quieter this time. “In fact, I received a lot of the same training from you, sir. I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I’m just trying to do what you taught me.”

  The senior healer stared back at her, nostrils flaring. Maeve stared back, determined. For a moment, she could see hesitation in his gaze, and she thought perhaps he would see a little reason.

  Then, someone coughed, and Reynold glanced over his shoulder at their audience. His posture stiffened, his chin lifting defiantly.

  “You best pray that you never lose your job here, Healer Maeve,” he hissed, voice low enough that only she could hear his threat. “Because I promise you the moment you step out of line and get dismissed - and you will - you will never work as a healer again.”

  He stepped back and looked down his nose.

  “As my junior healer, you are still subject to my authority. You are hereby restricted on your access to the inventory as I find your reckless and wasteful habits questionable. You will have to get prior, written authorization through myself or one of the other senior healers from now on. Is that understood?”

  Maeve paled. Reynold sniffed and turned on his heel, walking away stiffly. Her eyes darted between the faces that stood in the background before she fled to the back, behind the partitions where her workstation lived away from others.

  Her heart beat quickly in her chest. She couldn’t believe she had just said that to her senior. She pressed her hands against her face trying to bring life back into it. For a moment, she considered going back to the high commander. He would protect her. He said as much. All she needed to do was go to him.

  But something made her hesitate. If she went now, she’d only be proving Oliver and Reynold right about her. And then, Voss would also get dragged into this mess. Oliver, for some reason, already believed she was trying her hand at getting the high commander’s attention. The very happily married high commander who loved his wife so much he often shared small stories with her in the morning before they went down into the prison. How would his reputation hold up? What if his wife was the jealous type? What if these rumors began to affect them? She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that ever happened.

  And then there was Reynold himself. What would he think of her if she went running to Voss? She slumped down onto her stool, scowl softening. She still wanted his approval, she realized. She wanted it desperately. She still deeply respected her senior healer, more than he would ever really know, and she knew that if she went running to the high commander to whisper in his ear, Reynold would be hurt. Despite everything that was the last thing she wanted.

  “I just have to make sure I don’t make any mistakes,” she said to herself. “I can do this.”

  Voss trusted her. Reynold had too, once upon a time. She just needed to remind him.

  She took a deep breath and got to work.