I trusted no one—no one except Ash—but I preferred seeing Belial for this over the Carlin’s healer, who would immediately run to her queen’s room to whisper everything. Even though Belial’s speciality was poison, which meant any healing normally involved unimaginable pain. I was already familiar with it.
He nodded once, stepping back to let me in. I didn’t move for a moment, certain that I would collapse if I took even a single step. Eventually I managed one, then another, my scalp prickling with sweat and my left thigh on fire. My shirt was soaked and sticking wetly to my back and chest, and I was fairly sure that I left a trail of blood drops on Belial’s floor.
He didn’t comment, but his piercing eyes assessed me as I limped unsteadily to the room where he carried out his work. It was dark, and I stood stock still in the middle of the room, trying not to tremble as Belial quickly lit the candles and a lantern on the sideboard cluttered with bottles.
“Take a seat,” he said steadily, his back to me as he pulled down several bottles from the shelves.
I allowed myself a few precious seconds to limp while his back was turned, trying to keep the weight off my left leg. I sat heavily in the chair, gritting my teeth to hold back the pained groan.
“Is it just the three wounds I can see, or more?”
“The three,” I got out tightly.
“We’ll start with the one on your thigh. It’s the deepest.”
It was. It was still bleeding heavily, the sticky wetness running down the inside of my trouser leg and pooling in my boot. I blinked, spots dancing in front of my eyes, and tried not to sway as I gingerly stretched my leg out so he could work on it.
Belial padded over with a thick, dark green bottle. As he pulled out the stopper, the acrid stench singed my nostrils, making my gut tighten with apprehension.
He knelt in front of me and shot me a quick glance. “This will hurt.”
“I’m aware,” I gritted out, resisting the urge to clamp my hands around the top of my thigh, as if that would help.
He carefully pulled the leather away from the deep gash, which made my breath catch before I could stop it. Tipping the bottle, he poured a thin stream of dark green liquid down the length of the wound. It instantly started foaming, and the searing agony made my entire body spasm. It felt like I was going to piss myself from the pain, my breaths snarling out of me as I struggled to suck in enough air.
It was like my blood had turned to acid in an instant. Like it was eating through my veins and seeping into my organs, disintegrating my insides. The stench of the poison made me lightheaded, sweat pouring from me.
I only faintly heard Belial say, “I’m afraid you will need several doses of this,” his voice grim, as I struggled not to pass out.
Somehow, this was worse than the pain I’d gone through when he’d reattached my arm. That had been a deep, throbbing ache for days, interspersed with needle-sharp tingles down my fingers. This felt like the pain might kill me.
I finally gave in to the urge and wrapped my trembling fingers around the top of my thigh, digging in tight as I hunched over, panting. Belial straightened, and I felt long fingers carefully pulling the fabric of my shirt away from my skin and the wound on my back.
I spasmed again when he treated the wound there, biting down on my lower lip until it bled to hold back any whimpers. I trusted him just enough to let him do this, but I refused to show any additional weakness in front of him. He was still unseelie, which meant he was a follower of my mother. He’d still played a role in Ash’s capture.
Not that I had any right to judge him for that.
“Just the one on your chest now,” he said calmly, waiting patiently as it took me long, agonising moments to straighten up and lean back in the chair enough for him to treat it.
I stared up at the ceiling, flinching hard when he poured the liquid into the wound. The sound of it fizzing and foaming under my skin made my gorge rise, causing my throat to bob repeatedly as I tried to hold the vomit back. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.
“Do you want something for the pain?” he asked as he recorked the bottle and carried it over to his sideboard.
“No,” I got out weakly. I didn’t deserve to numb it, and I didn’t want to be any less clearheaded than I already was when I went back to the palace to sleep. I couldn’t shift while this injured, which meant I’d have to walk through it to get to my room instead of flying through my window as a bird.
If Balor was waiting for me, I didn’t know if I’d be able to defend myself.
“Do you want some clothes? To cover the bandages?” Belial asked in the same calm voice. He knew I wouldn’t want anyone to see that I was injured, but I refused to take any more from him.
“No.”
“Do you need help getting to the palace?” he asked.
“No,” I repeated, even though I was already dizzy from the pain and blood loss.
I shifted my eyes over to him, watching blearily as he pulled open a drawer and took out a thick roll of bandages. My fast, shallow breaths filled the silence of the room.
“The Carlin’s shriek pinned my feet to the kitchen floor while I was making tea,” he commented drily as he walked back over, unrolling the length of cloth.