Chapter 9: 9 – Two Beds

Convincing the inn owner, a grumpy old lady, to let us stay had been quite a task. Convincing her to let us have a room with separate beds (she didn't want to have to clean blood off two sets of bedding) had been even more difficult. But Blake insisted that we couldn't share a bed, and all I cared about at that point was to wash my wound and go to sleep. 

I wished I had learned healing spells when I was a child. It would have come very much in handy in this situation. But it was what it was, and I was currently busy cleaning the claw parks on my shoulder with an alcohol-soaked piece of cloth. 

“Are you alright in there?” Blake knocked on the bathroom door. 

“Yes, I'm almost done.” I answered.

I had decided to dress the wound in the bathroom, just in case it reopened and I started bleeding all over the floor again. I was actually quite surprised that I hadn't passed out from blood loss yet; although my hands were shaking quite a lot, and I was sure my leg would have given in under me had I not been sitting on a stool by the wash basin. 

“On second thought, I could use your help.” I called out.

“Alright.”

Blake pushed the door but didn’t make any steps through the doorway. His face was painted with an expression of shock, mixed in with a touch of something else I couldn’t quite place.

“It’s not that bad.” I tried to reassure him. “I have had worse, I assure you. And I scar really well, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t say anything, so I continued:

“Look, I got stabbed here, and it’s all gone now.” I showed a small scar on my lower abdomen. “And my ex-fiance impaled me with a needle once and that’s almost gone too.” I turned around to show him a circular scar just under my shoulder blade.

“A needle did that?” Blake asked, having finally snapped out of his stupor.

“Well, maybe it was more of a hairpin. I am not sure, I did not examine it after it was pulled out.” 

“How did it happen?” Blake asked, as he picked up the cloth and dipped it in alcohol.

I leaned against the wall, letting him do his work on my shoulder, as I began telling the story:

“It was a political arrangement, as it often is in the social circles I frequent. I didn't like her much, she outright hated me, but we had to put our differences aside. At that time, my sister was -” I stopped myself just before I was about to reveal that my sister hadn’t yet taken my claim to the throne. “Wasn’t of age to marry.” I continued.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Blake said, somewhat distracted by what he was doing.

“Amanda. She’s a nice girl. Very smart, very talented.” I said, without much emotion in my voice. 

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Out of all my family members, my sister was the one I was the least attached to. And now she was my only living relative. 

“As I was saying, she wasn’t of age to marry, but I was. This girl and I were supposed to hold our wedding in a few weeks. Most things were planned, and out of our hands, so we spent more time apart than we did together. I used that time to practice swordsmanship, she used that time to run around town, lifting her skirt for anyone with coin. And by that, I don’t want to sound insulting towards prostitutes. Those ladies and gentlemen do not hold the title of the oldest profession for nothing. But that girl was engaged, and worse yet, to be married soon. She needed the money to run away with some swindler. But her parents caught her eventually and put her under house arrest. She for some reason assumed it was my doing, although I couldn't have had less of a care in the world. But, well, she stabbed me the day before our wedding.” 

“That must have been quite the scandal, even someone like me would have heard about it.”

“You don’t believe me?” I asked. 

I would have smirked if I had the strength. In retrospect, this whole situation was rather funny. A duke’s daughter tried to kill a prince after sleeping with half the city and no one but those involved knew about it. She’d been sent to some monastery, with no tongue and only one hand, and my parents quickly swept the whole story under the rug in exchange for some strategically placed ports.

“I’m just saying…” Blake trailed off.

He’d finished cleaning the wound a while ago, and was waiting for me to finish my story to start dressing it. I leaned away from the wall to give him access to my back, and let him wrap a bandage around my shoulder.

“What about the other scars?” He unexpectedly asked.

I didn’t expect him to pay close enough attention to my body to notice all the smaller faded-out stitches and deep scratches scattered my torso and back.

“You know, training and whatnot.” I dismissively answered. 

I wasn’t keen on explaining that a fair number of those had come from practising magic. Casting without a medium, which was what my family specialized in, was not only quite illegal, but also highly dangerous. Most people associated that type of magic with demons and monsters, and no one, apart from my parents, sister and old bodyguard, were aware of my abilities. 

“And whatnot?” Blake gave a look.

 He wasn’t buying it.

“What’s wrong with your chest anyway?” I changed the subject. “Did you get hurt while in the mansion?” 

He immediately looked away and shut up. It seemed as if he was just as reluctant to speak about that as I was about my magic.

“Let me help you to bed.” He said, as he finished putting away the medical supplies.

“That’s an offer I won’t refuse.” I agreed.

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