Seraphine's POV
The healer’s chamber was cool and tidy. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the walls, and rows of clay jars and glass bottles lined a long table. The healer was tall and thin, with silver-grey hair tied back at his neck.
“I am Elias,” he said as he pulled on gloves. “I’ll numb the wound first, so you won’t feel pain. Afterwards, no heroic acts for two days. If you ignore that, Margot will punish me—she is quite good at it.”
Margot stood behind me, arms crossed.
“What the healer says is law,” she warned. “No exceptions.”
Elias didn’t grab a knife right away. He warmed water, soaked a cloth, and opened a small bottle filled with a sharp-smelling green liquid.
“Horsetail, plantain, honey,” he explained while unwrapping my bandage.
When he saw the wound, he didn’t flinch.
