Healer's Touch Read online

  “Thank you, miss.” The woman’s face crumpled and her eyes bled tears.

  “Oh my dear, you’ll be fine, never fear!” Viera cried, taking both the woman’s hands in hers. “You’ll see.”

  “But—” Inella bit her lip.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, the Kurgae’in will want to be paid, surely, and your Master Aru too. And I’ve nothing to pay them with but my clothes and the body in them.”

  Viera squeezed her hands and smiled, her heart giving an odd twist. “Don’t fret, Inella. My master Aru sees all who have need of him and charges no fee. And the Kurgae’in are…not the monsters people say. They do much good, for little money. Those without means are treated free of charge, or allowed work off their debt in the service of other patients at the hospital. Don’t let it worry you. Even if the Kurgan physicians demand payment, I know my master would never leave you in the lurch. All right?”

  The woman nodded like a trouper. “All right, miss.”

  “Good. Now you rest, and I’ll be back in no time at all.”

  She stood, smoothing her robe, and turned to head into the kitchen. Aru stood in the doorway, staring at her as if he’d never seen an Anduni woman before. He backed away as she approached and let her pass without a word, but she felt his terrible, beautiful eyes on her back like a caress.

  He’d come down to dismiss her. Clearly, it was the only thing to do. Get her out of his house, and soon enough she would be out of his head, as well. He had rehearsed the words in his mind, had hardened his heart until he was sure he could resist tears or tantrums or any other form of persuasion she might exhibit. But there was no defense against her quiet, unselfish compassion. Seeing her with the woman, calming her fears, soothing her hurts, had stabbed right through him. He could only watch and be amazed by her.

  She was extraordinary.

  He had no idea how she could do what she did. How she could be drawn one day, and then the next and the next, and never show any weakness or lasting injury. In the eighteen years since his fall he had never come across anyone with such a deep well of sensuality, or such an affinity for channeling it. It was as if Salgrim himself lived in her very womb.

  She was a gift beyond price. She gave Aru back his sense of himself within the universe. With her power at his fingertips, he was as close to immortal as he would ever come again. He couldn’t have her, but that didn’t mean he could let her go.

  He watched as she worked in the kitchen, ladling stock from the pot that continually simmered on the stove and seasoning it with crushed peppercorns, salt, thyme and parsley. Adding some rusks of wheat, she carried the bowl past him where he still stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking briefly to his and then away again.

  A spoonful at a time, Viera fed the injured woman. The patient ate what she could, then took some poppy milk and lay down again.

  Viera straightened, gathering up dishes. Her gaze lifted to Aru’s, but there was nothing of import in it, not a trace of her earlier anger and hurt. “If you don’t mind, I was going to go to the market and get a few things. I’ll stop at the Kurgan hospital and let Inella’s children know they can come visit this evening.”

  Aru swallowed past an unexpected thickness in his throat. He had been prepared for tears, for recriminations, for coldness. He hadn’t anticipated this bland, detached courtesy. “All right.”

  “Is there anything you need from the market?”

  So civil. So unreachable. The distance between them widened into a chasm. He shook his head. “Nothing, thank you.”

  She nodded and brushed past him to the stairs. Aru stood in the infirmary, alone but for the sleeping woman, and wondered why he felt he had lost something dear.

  Chapter Two

  Viera was just buttoning her cloak when the bell rang downstairs. Glancing at her face in the priceless glass mirror Aru had bought for her, she squeezed her cheeks to give them a bit of color. Her face looked naked without the paint she used to wear, but the more she saw of it, the more she thought that naked looked pretty good. Her hair, braided into one long plait, hung to her waist, and her dress was modestly cut and of good quality—for all intents and purposes, she looked a perfectly respectable woman out running errands.

  A few months could make a big difference.

  She descended the stairs with all the dignity her attire demanded. Entering the front hall, she saw who stood in the open doorway shaking hands with Aru, and all pretense of dignity fled.

  “Gil!” she squealed in surprised delight, grinning as he winced. Tearing across the room, she pounced on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist and her lips fastened onto his with an enthusiasm altogether at odds with the image of the respectable woman.

  He tore his mouth away and laughed. “That’s quite the welcome, Viera.”

  She grinned and kissed him again, longer and more lingering, sliding down his length until her feet touched the floor once more. “God, Gil, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Is Lianon here too?”

  He winked. “Would you give her the same welcome?”

  She thought about it. “I might.”

  “Alas for her, then, she couldn’t accompany me. One of our mares is foaling.”

  Viera pouted. “Pooh. How long are you staying?”

  “I head back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully all the really icky business of equine birth will be done with by then.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here,” Viera offered, then blushed. Somehow she had slipped effortlessly into the role of lady of the house, when it wasn’t her house, and Gil knew she was no lady.

  Aru stepped in and saved her from her own big mouth. “Yes, why don’t you stay here?”

  “No need. I never gave up my old place.”

  “It’s probably full of vermin after all this time,” Viera pointed out.

  Gil smiled with half his mouth. “Rat’s been living there, keeping the place up for me.”

  Viera laughed. “What did I tell you—full of vermin.”

  From the corner of her eye, she could see Aru smile as her buoyant mood finally got to him.

  “I was just going to go get some supper,” said Gil. “You two want to join me?”

  “I have a patient,” Aru declined, his smile vanishing. Viera’s stomach did a bizarre little flop at the sight.

  “Go,” she said, laying her hand on Aru’s arm, trying to ignore the heat that poured through her palm at the contact. “I’ll stay here with Inella.”

  He stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. Heat flooded her cheeks and she felt a warm pressure building between her legs under his scrutiny. “What about your shopping?”

  She drew her hand away, closing her fingers over her palm as if she could hold to the sensation of tingling warmth. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Come on, old man,” Gil coaxed. “I promise we won’t go to Heffie’s.”

  Aru flashed him a grin. It lit his face, made him so beautiful, Viera’s eyes started to sting. Biting back a curse, she blinked the moisture away and forced a smile. “If you could just stop by the hospital and tell Inella’s family they can visit. Make sure to give them directions.”

  “Thanks, love.” Gil bent and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, Viera,” he added softly next to her ear. “The new vocation agrees with you?”

  She smiled despite a growing urge to crumple and start bawling like an infant. “Very much,” she said truthfully.

  He smiled down at her. “I’m glad, love. Really, I am.”

  She cleared her throat, her fingernails digging into her palms. “You ought to get going, if you want to get a table. Unless you really are planning on going to Heffie’s. Always plenty of empty chairs there.”

  “I’ll get my coat,” Aru said succinctly.

  “So, she’s living with you now,” Gil said around a mouthful of warm, white bread.

  “What?” Aru blurted, caught off guard. On the surface, Gil’s eyes were bland and innocent, but Aru knew better. The Em
issary had the heightened perceptions of any man who lived by his sword and his wits. “Not exactly. I mean, she still has her own apartment.”

  “Really?” Gil dragged his crust through the gravy lining his bowl and popped it in his mouth. “How long since she slept there?”

  Aru cringed inside, staring at his own barely-touched platter. The food was very good—this was Judith’s, after all—but the idea of putting anything in his stomach was vaguely nauseating. The wine was more than adequate, though. Aru lifted his glass and drained it. “I’m not really sure.”

  Gil made no reply. Aru ventured a glance up to find his friend staring at him, clearly unfooled. Aru sighed and came clean. “Thirty-four days.”

  Gil’s brows shot up. “Has she been entertaining clients in your parlor then?”

  “No! That is, I’m not sure she’s entertaining clients at all, these days.”

  Gil grinned and leaned back in his chair. “You old dog!”

  It took a moment for Gil’s meaning to sink in. When it did, Aru felt his face heat up. “It’s nothing like that. She finds the work fulfilling.”

  “Does she now?” Gil’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but the humor in them couldn’t lift Aru’s mood.

  “I thought she did.”

  Gil frowned, his amusement souring. Leaning forward, he took the bottle and refilled Aru’s glass. “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know. We fought this afternoon.”

  “About what?”

  Aru only sat there, staring out the window at the lengthening shadows of evening, feeling his face fill with heat.

  “Ah. You made an overture and she rejected you?”

  Aru swallowed. “Not exactly.” He turned to look at his friend’s well-meaning, sympathetic face. “She wants more than I can give her.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  Aru reached for his wine. “She wants me to put aside my wife.”

  Gil was silent for a long moment. “It seems to me that it is your wife who has put you aside.”

  Aru scowled. “I took a vow before my god to be faithful to her.”

  “You also swore to live according to your god’s laws.”

  Aru felt his chest tighten with defensive anger. “You would hold me in blame for that?”

  Gil bristled, his eyes narrowing. If Aru had not been what he was he might have apologized for his waspish tone, but in truth he had every right to be bitter. They sat glaring at each other for a moment, before Gil’s expression softened. “It hardly matters whose fault it was. The Maiden exploited your power without your leave, and used it to kill. And she’s lauded for it—it is you who has lost everything, to atone for a sin you didn’t commit and could not prevent.”

  Aru stared at his friend, his throat tight, his eyes stinging. He thought of the Maiden Mira, of what she had done to him nearly twenty years ago, and couldn’t hate her. She had saved lives, not just her own and Aru’s, but countless others. The very nature of the change she had brought about in him by her heedless actions left him helpless but to forgive her transgression. In any case, he was no longer fit to judge her, or anyone.

  “There is no way for me to appeal my sentence, no tribunal of judges to whom I can present my case. Even if there was, it would be no use. Any pardon offered would only be a tacit approval for other Darjhi to allow themselves to be used as I was. I may have been but a sword in the hands of another, but Paldir god is still entitled to cleave that sword in twain.”

  “Just or not, your god has punished you, Aru,” Gil said softly. “How long are you going to punish yourself?”

  Aru sat there, looking at Gil’s earnest face, feeling his insides cave in like Inella’s house had done. Gil didn’t understand. He couldn’t. It wasn’t about punishment. It was simple reality. He lived in dishonor and would not add to it, but even so, dishonor was not his greatest fear. He was Omahru-azhi. Walking dead. His new life had ramifications that would freeze Gil’s blood if he knew of them.

  “Would you seek solace outside your marriage, Gil?”

  Gil’s mouth twisted with an unexpected wryness, and he opened his mouth, only to close it once more. Color stole into his cheeks under his beard. “I would never betray Lianon,” he said at last. “Tell me, does Zharina also honor your wedding vows?”

  “I have no way of knowing.”

  “Would you expect her to?”

  A pat answer leapt to Aru’s tongue and withered there. “No,” he finally admitted. “But she vowed to be faithful to Aru, a Darjhan. Not to Aru, an Omahru-azhi. I am no longer the man she married. I cannot hold her to her promise.”

  Gil grinned. “Then neither can she hold you to yours.”

  Aru stared, beginning to get annoyed. “I hold myself to my vow.”

  With a groan, Gil put his face in his hands. “So you can never touch a woman again?”

  “Not for as long as I live.”

  Gil laughed. The sound was devoid of humor. “Guess it’s just as well that won’t be forever anymore.”

  Against his will, Aru felt his lips turn up at the corners. Shaking off the foulness of his mood, he lifted his glass and drained it in one long swallow. Fixing Gil with a determined glower, he slapped a coin on the table. “This conversation is depressing. Let’s go get drunk.”

  Gil laughed and pushed to his feet. “Sounds like an idea.”

  Viera lay Inella’s daughter Krista next to her brother Vin, taking care not to jar the girl’s splint. She pulled the blanket up over them both and doused all the candles but one. In the bed opposite, Inella already slept, overcome by poppy milk and the exuberant love of her little ones. Inella’s mother Mai stood near the infirmary door, looking half grateful half lost. Her tired eyes met Viera’s.

  “It’s kind of you to let them stay.”

  Viera shrugged it off. “It will help Inella recover to have them near. Where will you go tonight?”

  Mai’s gaze dropped to her feet. “I…I don’t know. Inella and her wee ones are the only family I have in the city. In truth, I don’t know where any of us will go. The house is nothing but a pile of rubble.”

  Viera took her arm and led her into the kitchen. She poured a generous cup of red wine, added some honey, cinnamon and clove, and a hot stone from the coals in the stove. Waving Mai to a chair, she handed her the warmed wine. “Where is Inella’s husband?”

  “Ned took a job on a ship. Dangerous, but the pay was too good to turn down. We ate well for two seasons. Bought the house. Even put a little bit away.” She took a long swallow of her wine, closing her eyes as it settled in her stomach. “Six years ago, they sailed for Qaranica. Never came back.”

  Viera frowned with her tiny cup of absinthe raised halfway to her lips. “But Vin cannot be more than four.”

  At last the woman’s eyes filled, though she stubbornly refused to let the tears spill. “My Inella has had to endure much in keeping a roof above us and our bellies full. I do what I can to help, but there is little money in mending shirts. She has been forced to…”

  “It’s all right,” Viera said gently, covering the woman’s hand with her own. “I understand.”

  “Please, miss, don’t judge her too harshly.”

  Viera smiled. “I do not judge her at all. We do what we must to survive.” Mai didn’t exactly look convinced, and Viera wondered with some amusement what the woman would say if she knew just what part Viera had played in healing her daughter.

  “Come,” she said, rising and helping the weary woman to her feet. “I’ll make up a bed for you on the settee in the salon. When Inella’s well, Master Aru and I will help you find a place, and a means to pay for your own keep. Until then, you can all stay here with us.”

  Mai pulled her to a halt and startled her with a hug. “Thank you, miss. How can we ever repay you?”

  For about the tenth time today, Viera fought off a wave of weeping, blinking furiously against the stinging in her eyes and forcing the lump down from her throat. “Nonsense,” she said, m
ore briskly than she’d intended. “Come on and let’s get you settled for the night. We can worry about tomorrow when it gets here.”

  But when Mai was settled and Viera found her own bed upstairs, the day’s troubles were there waiting for her. She lay alone in her too-big bed, her body on fire, every inch of her flesh in a state of agonizing hyper-awareness. The linen sheets were cool and hot at the same time, slipping imaginary fingers across her flushed skin. Her nipples were hard knots of tender flesh longing to be touched by fingers other than her own. Longing to be kissed, licked, suckled. Her belly felt heavy with the imprint of Aru’s hand—it was as if his touch was branded into her skin. She felt him there, above her womb, but not in the places she wanted him most.

  How many times had Viera come during this afternoon’s healing? Seven? Eight? And yet her body was as primed for sex as if it had not known release for days and days. She thought back to their altercation in the salon, to the arc of need that had sprung between them, to the bleakness on his face as he sternly denied himself everything a man should want. Thought about her own body’s response to his anguish. Mere moments after rising from a pleasure so intense it felt like her body had been turned inside out, all it took was one look at Aru’s turgid cock and she wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees in front of it and drink him dry.

  And it would never happen. She knew he wanted her—she had only to picture the thickness of his organ straining the seam of his trousers to have her proof—but he would never touch her beyond that one, sterile point of contact necessary to draw her power. He would never use her the way she wanted to be used. And he would never allow her to give him anything meaningful other than the power of her womb. Not pleasure. Certainly not love.