My Dear Savior

Episode 7

I quickly went to work preparing the sewing kit I had helped my mother use on her other patients. I also prepared hot cloths, hot water, and herbs I knew she would have used on this type of wound. I was putting off the inevitable- I didn’t want to uncover the wound for fear that he was eviscerated under his shirt and my bandage. Eventually, there was nothing more I could prepare, so I roused him with a cool cloth on his forehead.

He huffed out a startled breath at me once he was finally able to open his eyes. They seemed too bright and glossy- almost like he couldn’t focus- but I was able to coax him into sitting up on his elbows long enough for me to take off the bandage and his shirt. As my fingers brushed his skin, they trembled. I took a steadying breath as I turned away from him towards the fire. He would need a calm and steady-handed healer, not some queasy girl who couldn’t help blushing at seeing him half-naked. I had seen plenty of men in various states of undress because of my mother’s line of work. This prince should be no different.

I steeled myself and held my shoulders back as I turned to inspect his wound closer. I took breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth to stop myself from passing out. Mercifully, this was a fairly straightforward wound. Though it was deep and would need to be cleaned and stitched up, I felt that I could manage this alone. I had seen my mother heal worse wounds in my life. She had been healing people with me wrapped around her torso as a baby.

My slight confidence boost was all I needed to dig in my heels and proceed with helping this prince. I didn’t care if others would think I was a traitor- I knew my mother would approve. We were healers and helpers to all people in need.

“I am going to clean this wound and stitch it up. This may hurt a bit, so prepare yourself.” I said without making eye contact with him.  

He made a small grunt, which I took to mean he agreed with my decision, and he took a deep breath. He was silent as I cleaned the wound and prepared it for my stitches though his hands were balled into fists. I guessed he had had an adrenaline rush that was preventing him from passing out again now that we were indoors and warmer. I actively avoided looking at his face, but when he hissed out a breath through his teeth as I began my stitches, I started to hum again to try to distract him.

“What is that you’re humming?” He managed to ask on a whisper.

“A song my mother used to sing to me.” I said distractedly, working on the stitches. It had been a long time since I had done this.

I jumped a little and almost stabbed him with the needle when his red-tinted fingers brushed an errant strand of my strawberry blonde hair back behind my ear.

“That song… That’s what drew me to you.”

For a seemingly long moment, our eyes met and he gave me a small, innocent smile that made me catch my breath. Then his whole body relaxed as his eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a sputtering breath.