“It’s even better than your arm,” Gillie teased as he passed me.
I snorted and went into the bathroom to light the fire and pull the chair over to the side of the tub. I set a bar of soap and a little bottle of oil on the seat, then went to help Gillie fill the cauldron over the fire with water to heat.
Despite his new leg, Lonan was still graceful when he used the wall behind him to stand up. He’d quickly found a way to do it so I could help him use the bathroom while he was healing, but when he went to rest a scant amount of weight on his branch leg, he still winced.
“So impatient.” I chuckled, wrapping my arm around him so he could lean on me as we made our way into the kitchen. “It’ll be fully healed soon and you won’t even notice.”
Gillie beamed at us when we slowly hobbled in. Nua gave us a tentative smile from the table. He was still hesitant about Lonan, but I knew it was because he worried about me.
“How are you feeling, lad?” Gillie asked Lonan.
“Yes, well, thank you.”
He wasn’t cold with Nua and Gillie like I’d seen him be to literally everyone else but me, but he wasn’t completely himself around them either. I knew he wouldn’t fall asleep until Nua and Gillie had gone to bed, and he still woke up early so he was awake before they rose. Most mornings I woke up with his head on my chest and his branch leg gingerly draped over mine as he traced patterns into my skin under my shirt.
“I’ll get started on dinner once your water’s in the bath,” Gillie said absently as we made our way to the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I called back as I helped Lonan into the room and to the seat.
Gillie had made him a toothbrush, and I passed it to him with the tooth powder before going out to get a cup of water. Once he’d finished, he rinsed his mouth and spat back into the glass so I could tip it into the drain set into the floor next to the bath.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing. I knew he hated being this vulnerable—needing help to do even the simplest of things.
“Shut up,” I chuckled, going over to kiss his cheek before heading into the kitchen to get the hot water.
I was stronger now. So much stronger. I could lift the cauldron with ease after wrapping my hands in cloth, and I tipped it into the bath before taking it back into the kitchen.
After locking the door, I helped Lonan strip down and carefully get into the bath with his branch leg draped over the lip. The water barely lapped around his hips, but that meant it didn’t get near the join between his flesh and his new leg.
“Can you keep yourself sitting forward so I can wash your hair?”
I grabbed the oil first, tipping a few drops into the bath. As Lonan gripped the sides of the tub and leaned forward, I filled the jug with water and carefully poured it over his head. Then I dipped the soap into the water to lather it up.
As I washed his hair, my eyes caught and held on the pale, curved shield of his back. The light from the fire danced over his skin, throwing the long, silvery lines I could remember spotting before into sharp relief. I’d never asked him about them, but now the question burned on my tongue.
“What are these scars from?” I asked, my voice low in the quiet of the room.
Lonan’s back tensed for a second before he relaxed. “The Carlin.”
I managed to stop my hands clenching into fists in his hair, but rage flared in the pit of my stomach. Another reason to kill her.
“Why?” My voice was tight with anger.
“When I wouldn’t shift into a new animal fast enough as a boy.”
He tipped his head back to let me rinse the suds from his hair. His eyes were closed, but I saw his throat bob.
“Most spiritsmiths only have one other form. I turned into the blackbird first, when I was very young. That’s why she calls me Lonan.”
I paused at that, the jug poised over his head. “Is Lonan not your name?”
“It is. It’s what I go by. It’s not my fae name.”
The desperate urge to know his true name burned in me, but not so I could control him. Just so I knew everything about him. I didn’t ask, though. I never would.
“She would whip me until I managed to shift into a new form. For years,” Lonan continued in a murmur, his fingers still tight on the edges of the bath. “Balor enjoyed watching.”
Murderous fury rose, but I managed to finish rinsing Lonan’s hair before setting down the jug and urging him to lean back. He settled back with a relieved sigh, reaching up with wet hands to scrub his face roughly.