Wraith(33)

‘Get out.’ There was a dangerous growl in de Florinville’s voice that startled me.

Rymark looked astonished. ‘But…’

‘Wait outside.’ The Dark Elf’s tone brooked no argument. He gave Rymark a hard glare. Only when the man had disappeared into the outer reception room where my shadow was located did de Florinville return to cutting off my dress. He sucked in a sharp breath when he reached my stomach, pausing to stare down. Well, I knew I didn’t have a pot belly; these days it was virtually concave.

Becoming more and more confused about what was going on, I frowned at him. This time his anger was palpable.

‘These bruises are recent but not immediately fresh. Someone else did this.’ Fury vibrated through his voice. ‘Was it the same person who broke your fingers?’

My jaw dropped open. Was he for real? He had caused those bruises when he’d slammed his fist into my shadow. Genuinely surprised, I could do little more than gape. De Florinville registered this and smoothed his expression, although it seemed to take some effort. ‘Never mind,’ he muttered. ‘You can tell me later.’

There was going to be a later? Well, that was good. Having my skin exposed to him made me feel vulnerable and that, coupled with the pain, fatigue and continued dizziness, made it difficult to think straight. I didn’t know why his touch felt different to anyone else’s but at least I didn’t have to recoil every time he drew near.

As far as I could work out, he didn’t know I was the wraith whose shadow was in the next room. I couldn’t decide what he thought I was but it definitely wasn’t his enemy. My bafflement had almost entirely replaced my fear.

De Florinville gently cut upwards, the cold steel of the scissors pressing against my skin from time to time. He was being very, very careful – until he reached above my ribcage. Alarmed, I realised what the problem was and jerked away.

‘What’s this for?’ he asked softly, his fingers brushing against Marrock’s dagger which lay against my side.

I swallowed. I could tell him that it was my last defence and that I’d planned to slide it in between his ribs if he tried to hurt me but somehow I didn’t think that would go down very well. Frankly, I was thankful that Ghrashbreg hadn’t noticed it. He’d have broken much more than my little fingers if he had. ‘It’s for protection,’ I whispered, speaking the truth.

‘You didn’t use it against the person who hurt you?’

No, I’d be dead if I’d tried. I shook my head mutely and wondered what de Florinville would do. While I remained rigid with tension, he unsnagged the blade and lifted the weapon before examining it. His jaw clenched then he laid it to one side and continued to peel away the rest of my dress. Although there was a strange, flaring heat in both his expression and his touch, I sensed that he was doing his best to be clinically professional. His manner didn’t really help much. I shivered, feeling like a meal being served up to him on a platter, even though I still had my grubby underwear on and I longed to feel his skin against mine again.

‘This won’t take long, buttercup,’ he murmured. ‘Relax.’

Relax? Buttercup? I opened my mouth to speak but his eyes closed and he began to mutter. I felt his fingertips graze my bruises and an even deeper warmth spread across my tender skin. With feather-light touches, he took hold of my right hand and breathed some more words. Again, I felt the same heat although this time it was coupled with a sudden easing of the pain.

It was difficult to keep my head raised while I was on my back but I still stared. Some swelling remained but, compared to only moments ago, my finger looked completely different. It was almost back to normal and I could flex it again. While de Florinville moved to my other hand, I realised he was healing me. I held up my hand in wonder and gazed at the Elf as he finished his ministrations. His expression was one of intense concentration but also pleasure.

When he was done, he stepped back. I felt a sense of hollow loss that he was no longer touching me. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

‘Better,’ I admitted in a croaky whisper. Tired but definitely better.

I was also confused. I wasn’t sure what was going here and, even if I didn’t appear to be in immediate mortal danger, I wasn’t sure that I liked what was happening. Maybe the physical sensations that de Florinville’s touch aroused were different to what I was used to because of the physiognomy of a Dark Elf. After all, I’d never met one before now.

‘You need to rest.’ He drew up a blanket from the foot of the bed, pulling it over me with such gentleness that I almost cried. Almost. ‘Get some sleep,’ he said. Then, with a last long look at me, he turned, picked up Marrock’s dagger and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The moment I heard the door click, I sprang up, kicking the blanket away. No matter how much sleep beckoned, I couldn’t close my eyes even briefly. I darted to the door and examined it with practiced eyes. He’d not locked me in.

I pressed my ear against its cool surface and listened. I could just make out the conversation beyond.

‘We need to get rid of the wraith,’ de Florinville was saying. ‘Now. It’s not safe. Not with Saiya here.’

That confirmed it: he didn’t realise that the wraith and I were one and the same. Maybe the Dark Elf wasn’t as intelligent as I’d believed. When he’d touched me, I could have sworn that he’d recognised me. The strange jolt of electricity had to have something to do with it. But this wasn’t the time to muse on it. I was on a rescue mission to save myself and even the bizarre antics of Gabriel de Florinville and my own body weren’t going to get in my way.