17 - Healing

  In the infirmary, Maeve sniffled loudly, swearing under her breath as her fingers slipped, nearly dropping another vial. She could barely see through her tears, so she kept rubbing at them. Her eyes felt swollen, her nose felt raw. But she didn’t stop. She glanced at the labels, scanning them quickly as she stuffed her satchel full with as many potions and pastes as she could fit.

  She didn’t hear him approach, too busy sniffling and grumbling.

  “Why did you do that?” Oliver demanded.

  She whirled around.

  “What? Cry? It’s not unheard of after getting yelled at in front of a whole bunch of people, Oliver,” she said, hating the way her voice trembled.

  He scowled. “Not that,” he snapped.

  “Then what?” she cried, snapping right back. “What could you possibly be talking about? What God-awful thing have I done now that deserves your spite this time?”

  His scowl turned to his feet as he mumbled, “Why’d you take the blame?”

  “Oh.”

  She blinked and glanced at him, feeling her irritation ebbing a little. Why had she? She didn’t really know.

  “Guess…guess I just didn’t want you to get blamed for my mistakes,” she said, shrugging.

  She ignored the way his eyes flashed up at her and crossed to the shelf across the room. The glass clinked as she moved aside the bottles, reading the labels again and picking a few before shoving them into her satchel.

  “Are you an idiot?” Oliver asked, incredulous.

  “According to you and Senior Healer Reynold?” she asked.

  “If you’d just kept your mouth shut-”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “High Commander Voss would probably have pulled me aside and yelled at me quietly later,” she sighed. “Better to get it done and over with.”

  She grabbed an armful of clean bandages and made for the door. Oliver stepped in her path. She halted and frowned up at him.

  “Move,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Oliver, I don’t have time-”

  “Why’d you stop him from yelling at me? You didn’t stop him when he yelled at Senior Healer Reynold. Why me?” he demanded.

  Maeve’s eyes softened as she realized he looked more confused than angry. She shook her head.

  “Because…I didn’t think it was fair you got yelled at when you were right,” she admitted, looking down at her hands.

  Oliver blinked in surprise. Maeve smiled sadly.

  “You were right. Both of you. All of you. I was naive. I made a mistake. I took on more than I could handle,” she continued. “I was there. I should have seen the signs. I mean, what was I thinking? I’m just an assistant.” She paused and looked up at him again. “So, let him yell at me, because you were right. Not me.”

  Her eyes watered again, and she quickly tried to wipe them away. A roll of bandages tipped and tumbled onto the ground. She tried to reach down to grab it only to drop more. Frustrated, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached out for the first roll nearest hers only to find Oliver’s own pale fingers reaching out first.

  She glanced up in surprise. He blushed furiously, scowling before tucking the roll into the crook of his own arm. It wasn’t an apology, at least not outright, but as Oliver grabbed an empty crate and began filling it with the bandage rolls, she sensed a shift. Small, but a shift nonetheless. When it was full, he began looking through the other vials.

  “Did you grab the antiseptics?” he asked.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Hmm, you’ll also need sedatives. I’m assuming you’ll want to keep him still while the fever runs its course. Otherwise, he’ll hurt himself.”

  She blinked. “Are you…helping me right now?”

  “Shut up and don’t make me regret this,” he mumbled as he grabbed the crate. “Let’s go.”

  “You don’t have to-”

  “Maybe you were wrong, but we'd only know for certain if we didn’t ignore you,” Oliver mumbled.

  For a moment, she considered pushing him. He had been awful to her for a long time. She couldn’t forget his crass accusations either. But even as she thought about it, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. At least he was trying. Maybe she should, too.

  Her gaze softened.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He grunted. “Don’t even think this means anything. You’re still just a junior healer.”

  “And you’re still just a jerk,” she mumbled back.

  But as they walked out of the infirmary, they walked together.