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I honestly have no idea how he’s leaning over it so closely, letting that foul steam waft in his face like that. “Does it? That’s probably the bit of boiled intestines. It can be quite strong.”

This time, I can’t stop the gag that presses on the back of my tongue and cinches my throat. I gulp some air, keeping my eyes averted from the pot. “Why are you making that, exactly?”

“It’s a new mixture I’m trying out to treat aches and pains.” He suddenly straightens up and faces me, a gleam in his drooping eye. “Would you like to be my test subject?”

My mouth pops open. “You want someone to drink that?” I can’t keep the horrified tone out of my voice.

“Course not, my lady. I’m going to cook it down to be a topical ointment.”

I can’t blink, because my mind is too busy picturing him rubbing around boiled cartilage and intestines. If my skin wasn’t gold, it would be turning green right about now.

Hojat is still looking at me expectantly, and I realize he’s actually waiting for my answer.

“Oh, umm, maybe next time?”

A look of disappointment flashes over his expression, but he nods. “Of course, my lady. I see your lip has improved.”

I lift a hand, fingers skimming over the healing split. I haven’t seen my reflection in a long while, and I’d rather it stay that way.

“The cheek could be better,” he muses, the accent pulling at his t’s like his tongue wants to drag them under. “You didn’t ice it like I told you, did you?”

“Yes...” I say, trying to keep the guilt out of my tone. “For a couple minutes.”

He sighs and shakes his head, the corner of his lips looking like they want to fuse in a frown. “They always ignore the order to ice it,” he grumbles under his breath.

“I’ll do it tonight,” I assure him quickly.

“Sure you will,” he says, brown eyes rolling, like he doesn’t believe me at all. “If you like, I can make you another tonic for the pain? If you let me check your ribs, that is...”

I quickly stiffen. “No thanks.”

Hojat sighs. “You Midas lot are a distrusting bunch, aren’t you?”

My body goes still.

Midas lot. He’s seen the others.

It takes a lot of effort not to jump in eagerness. “Can you blame us? We’re captives in Fourth’s army.”

“We’re all captives of something, even things we don’t want to admit to.”

I frown at his words, but I don’t have time to linger on them. “I’m actually headed over to visit them right now. I could help you talk them into whatever treatments they need if you want to walk with me?”

It’s a bad li

e. I know it, and based on the way he looks at me, he knows it too.

“You are allowed to do this?” he asks doubtfully.

“Yes,” I answer quickly.

Apparently, he’s not buying my lies, because he shakes his head. “If you want to see the others, you’ll have to get permission from the commander first.”

A breath of frustration slides between my teeth like a hiss.

“Please,” I say, my tone begging. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I just want to make sure they’re all okay. Surely, as a mender, you can understand that?” It’s a cheap shot, but sometimes, cheap shots have a way of paying off.

A hesitant yet sympathetic look crosses Hojat’s face, and for a moment, I think I’ve got him. But then he shakes his head. “I can’t, my lady. I’m sorry.”


Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy