William raised his eyebrows.
“What is it about you and coming here?” Thomas teased. “Can’t manage to keep from injuring yourself for ten days? Are you like this at home?”
She shot him a dark look. “No. I scratch and bruise myself all the time, especially in the summer when I’m leading horseback rides at the ranch, but I’ve never needed stitches until the last time I was here.”
“Never needed them, or never gotten them?” William asked, eyeing a scar just above her left knee, where Quinn had snagged herself with a fishing hook last summer at the ranch. She blushed, wondering when, exactly, he had noticed that. She hadn’t worn shorts in front of him very often.
Her eyes narrowed. “Never needed them.” She glanced down at the scar, though, realizing for the first time how much more pronounced it was than the little line that William had sewn up for her on her last visit, which had nearly disappeared.
She remembered that day, promising the nurse at the ranch that she would have her mom take her to have it looked at that evening if she needed to, but she’d been convinced it was fine, and had just worn pants to hide it for the next few weeks. And it was fine. She hadn’t needed stitches.
Thomas chuckled. “Maybe you don’t spend so much time at home trying to play hero of the day, and that’s how you avoid stitches there.”
She glared at him, and then looked up at William. “Really, I’m fine.”
His expression was sympathetic, but unwavering as he continued poking and prodding at her arm. She turned to Linnea, giving her best pleading look. Linnea was compassionate, but shook her head saying, “I don’t argue with William about stuff like this.”
Robert returned then, setting down a metal tray of supplies on the little table near the bed. Quinn deliberately avoided looking at what he’d brought, though it didn’t stop her mind from picturing needles. “I have some patients I need to ride out and check on. Are you okay here?”
William nodded, and began organizing the things Robert had brought.
“Okay, then. If I don’t see you again today, I’m sure I will soon,” he said, looking at each of the three siblings. “Quinn, it was nice meeting you. I know you’ll recover quickly with William taking care of you.
“Thank you,” she said. “It was very nice meeting you, too.”
As Robert walked out the front door, there was a clink of glass against metal on the tray, and her stomach rolled.
“Are you okay?” Linnea asked, looking concerned.
Thomas, who had disappeared to the other side of the room, returned now with a folded washcloth. “Lie back sweetheart,” he said, helping her. “She and William have similar feelings when it comes to needles,” he explained to Linnea.
“Oh.” She watched as Thomas placed the washcloth on Quinn’s forehead. “Oh.”
“She can climb trees and fearlessly rescue small children, but when it comes to needles…”
She rolled her eyes – or tried to, anyway – though she couldn’t argue. Her stomach turned with every noise that came from beside the bed.
“And she can’t have valoris seed, either.”
“Right.” Linnea laid her hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“Either?” Quinn wondered, feeling a little less lightheaded with the cool cloth on her forehead.
“Actually, none of us are supposed take it. It’s very rare to react to it at all, but bad reactions run in our family.”
Quinn was stunned. “You never told me that before.”
Thomas shrugged. “I’ve never even tried it, honestly. Simon reacted when he was little. Maxwell took it once, and he was fine, but then Rebecca had a bad reaction to it when she was just about Emma and Alex’s age. After that, Nathaniel refused to allow it to be used on any of us. He won’t take it, either. I guess one of his brothers had a reaction when he was younger and Nathaniel never wanted to risk it.
“That is really weird – wait, one of his brothers? He’s your uncle, right? Isn’t he the brother of one of your parents?”
“Um, no,” Linnea answered. “We’ve always called him our uncle, because he came to live with our grandparents when he was a young teenager, and our father considers him a brother, but he isn’t technically.”
“Then who is he really?”
“I don’t know all of the details. I know that he is actually distantly related in some way, but the rest of it is one of those, ‘we don’t discuss it in front of the children’ things.”
“Maybe it’s just something that hasn’t ever come up because it isn’t important. Nathaniel is our uncle, ‘technically’ or no.” William’s voice carried a hint of irritation. She knew how close William and Nathaniel were, and she guessed he didn’t much like the discussion.
He softly took hold of her elbow with his left hand, and her stomach wobbled. Her head turned automatically to watch what he was doing.
“Eyes over here, Quinn.” Thomas put his finger under her chin, turning her head to the side of the bed where he stood. He stared at her, trying to keep her eyes on his. Linnea sat down next to the pile of pillows, running her fingers through Quinn’s knotted hair.
“And relax,” Linnea said. She put one hand on her shoulder, steadying it, and shifted her body slightly to obscure Quinn’s view of William.
Next to her, William moved, too, turning his back to block her view completely.
“You’re fine, Quinn. I’ve got you.” Thomas took her right hand in his, holding it securely while William prodded some more at the wound on her upper arm. His touch was feather-light, but several times she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
“I know,” she said, trying to sound upbeat, “You guys must think I’m a big coward.”
“Yeah, we do,” Linnea said, “but we like you anyway.”
She managed a giggle.
“That’s better,” Thomas said. He tightened his grip when she flinched at a sudden, cold swipe of alcohol.
* * *
“Sorry, Quinn,” William said, and she turned to look at him, despite Thomas’ attempts to distract her. Her gray eyes were wide with anxiety. “I don’t think any less of you,” he said, and he meant it. “These two aren’t kidding when they tease me for being the same way.”
“No, we’re not.” Linnea chortled. “I heard he fainted the last time.”
William rolled his eyes. He had not fainted, he’d just … come close. “Just wait, Linnea … if it’s ever you…”
Linnea just smiled, looking kindly at Quinn. “It’s true. I’ve never had them come at me with needles. I might be the same way.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder.
“Thomas has.” The girl looked back over at his carefree younger brother. William seized the opportunity of her being distracted again to pick up the first syringe full of anesthetic.
“Sure. But I freaked out pretty good the first five or six times, too. Keep hurting yourself and you’ll catch up with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a competition I want to win.” She actually grinned.
“There’s my smile,” Thomas said.
The smile disappeared a second later, though, with the first jab of the needle. William felt her arm tense up, and he worked as carefully as he could, injecting as large a radius as possible before he had to remove the needle and stick her again. He silently willed the numbness to spread faster than the stinging sensation he knew she was feeling.
“Just breathe,” Thomas told her. William was overcome with an odd emotion as he watched his brother rub the back of Quinn’s hand soothingly with his thumb – for a moment he wished he were one comforting her, rather than the one hurting her more. He shook it off, realizing that was ridiculous.
He was grateful for Thomas’ presence here, which always made this kind of thing easier on everyone.
She nodded, exhaling as he finally pulled out the syringe.
“See, you’re already doing better than the last time.”
She tried to smile again, but only made it halfway.
<
br /> “Another pinch,” William told her, glad that nobody seemed to notice how he worked to keep his own voice steady.
She took a deep breath, and concentrated on Thomas’ eyes. She wasn’t quite so tense this time, which made William feel better – the medicine must have been starting to do its job. She lay there, perfectly still and watching Thomas as William worked carefully to numb her entire upper arm.
He was thorough; after all of this, he didn’t want her to feel anything when he did the stitches, or especially when he started digging in for the splinters. Several of those spots were literally becoming red and inflamed as he watched.
She still flinched at each new poke, but she didn’t actually lose her patience until he was – fortunately – on the last one. “You didn’t give me this many shots the last time.”
Thomas smiled at the girl’s exasperation, but her eyes were on William now.
“You didn’t scrape up half your arm the last time. You’ve got three separate cuts here that need stitches. Besides, you were unconscious for most of it last time. How would you know?”
Thomas chuckled at her sigh.
“I’m done with those now, though. I’m just going to give it a minute to make sure it’s completely numb before I clean and stitch it.”
“The bad part is over,” Thomas said. “You can just lay here and relax now.”
“Almost,” William amended, and Quinn looked up at him in surprise.
“What do you mean, almost?” she asked, suspicious.
He sighed and watched as the expression in her eyes became even more accusing. If Thomas had been looking at him that way, he would have been bracing himself against an oncoming punch. “There’s a lot of debris in these wounds. I would feel a lot better if I got some antibiotics into you.”
The muscles in her face relaxed. “That’s not so bad. I’ve taken antibiotics before. I’m not allergic or anything.”
Thomas raised his eyebrows, and William’s heart sank. It was true, in her world, that most of the time, “antibiotics” meant taking pills for a week. In Eirentheos – not so much.
“What?” she demanded.
“It’s not like there are pharmacies here and it’s easy to just write a prescription for some pills, Quinn. Besides, you’re going to need some in your system a little faster than that.” The way the skin around some of her splinters was beginning to swell, he was actually wishing that he’d given her the antibiotic shot first.
“Oh.” Her color drained again. “Does that mean what I think it does?”
“One more shot, that’s all,” he promised, cleaning a spot on the side of her thigh before she had a chance to protest. “These do hurt, but I’ll be as quick and gentle as I can.” Her pulse started to beat so rapidly he could actually see the artery in her neck throbbing.
Thomas gripped her hand again. “It’s just for a minute, Quinn.” She nodded, clearly trying to hold herself together. “Not nearly as bad as shadeweed remedy.”
If Robert hadn’t left, William would have considered asking him to do this part. Instead, he hid behind his irritation from earlier. “Not nearly as bad as an infected arm, either,” he said. “Or, say, falling out of a tree and being crushed by a couple hundred pounds of wood and nails.”
She glowered at him, and he used that second of distraction to stick her with the needle. Thomas squeezed her hand tightly.
“Almost done,” William said, watching her concentrate on breathing in and out. He knew the medicine stung, but outside of her clenched teeth, she stayed as calm as he had ever seen her. “Sorry, Quinn. I really will stop torturing you after this.” If he hadn’t been studying her so closely, he would have missed her tiny nod.
“Awesome,” Thomas told her as William taped a piece of cotton in place. “See, you’re already getting better at this.”
“Probably best if you avoid becoming an expert at it, though.” William said, patting her softly on the shoulder.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Linnea chuckled as she helped Quinn sit back into the pillows.
“So, you’ve had to have stitches before?” Quinn asked him, probably bored and trying to keep her mind occupied as he worked on her arm.
“Oh yes.” He’d lost track of how many times now, although, unlike his brother, it never seemed to get easier for him. “It kind of comes with the territory, since I spend so much time riding around the kingdom on horseback, visiting clinics. We are often in rural areas, and there are many times we have to hike… Besides, I’m usually with Thomas. You see where that’s gotten you already.”
Quinn laughed; her irritation with him seemed to have faded now that her arm was numb.
“I am a walking hazard zone,” Thomas said. “But I know how to have fun.”
“Fun is one word for it,” Linnea chided.
“You’re just mad that you don’t usually get to come.”
“It’s hardly fair. You two are always getting to have fun adventures without me.”
“Here, you can have my adventure,” Quinn told her, brandishing an empty syringe she’d picked up from the bedside table.
William actually snorted.
When they had finally all recovered from the laughing fit, he looked up at his siblings. “This is going to take a while,” he said. A long while, probably. For every splinter he pulled out, he seemed to find three or four he hadn’t seen before. “You should go check on the horses – maybe even go take a peek at the market stalls. I’m sure the vendors would be happy to have a prince and princess stop by.”
Linnea’s eyes lit up at the idea – he knew she’d seen the jewelry stands as they walked by – but she looked down in concern at Quinn. “We aren’t going to leave when you need us,” she said.
Quinn shook her head. “I’m fine now. I can’t feel anything. You should go, this has to be about as exciting as watching paint dry in here.”
“Are you sure, Quinn?” Thomas was more reluctant.
“I’m sure. Go.”
“We won’t be long,” he promised.
She shrugged, though only one shoulder actually moved. “From the sounds of it, you have plenty of time.”
“Is there anything you’d like?” Linnea asked.
Quinn chuckled. “Do they have books?”
“I’m sure someone does,” Thomas said, brushing the girl’s hair back from her forehead. “We’ll bring you something.”
William saw Quinn begin to object, which didn’t surprise him, but his brother and sister disappeared, likely intentionally avoiding hearing her.
After Thomas and Linnea were gone, William worked in silence for several minutes before he looked up. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t love it, but you numbed it up good. I can’t feel anything. Right now, my leg is hurting worse than my arm.”
“I’ll bet.” He rubbed again at the taped cotton, trying to disperse the medicine more, but he stopped quickly when she winced. “That’ll be sore for a bit, I’m sorry.”
She shrugged with her good shoulder.
“So, later, when your arm is feeling better, you can punch me. I know you wanted to.”
She chuckled. “You were not my favorite person there for a minute. But I’m over it now … mostly.”
He grinned. “You’ll be grateful later. The scars on your arm would have been a lot more visible than that one on your leg.”
“I didn’t even know you’d noticed that.” She surprised him when the base of her neck began to glow a soft red.
He shrugged, catching her gaze – trying to convey with his expression that he hadn’t meant to embarrass her. He actually kind of liked the distinctive little scar on her leg. It was so … Quinn. “It’s not that bad, I just notice things like that. Nathaniel and I both spend a lot of time practicing doing stitches well. It’s not so important on a leg, but for a cut on your face – there are no plastic surgeons here. You can’t tell me that Nathaniel ever saw that injury and let it heal like that.”
She shook her head.
“What are we going to do with you, Quinn?” He wanted to lighten the mood.
It worked. She smiled.
“So, Nathaniel isn’t really your uncle?” she asked, changing the subject just a little too casually. Although she tried to hide it, he could see the burning curiosity in her eyes. He’d become all too familiar with that expression of hers lately.
“Yes, he is my uncle. In every way possible other than that his parents don’t happen to be my grandparents.”
The understanding in her eyes as she nodded caught him off guard. “Does that make sense to you?”
“Very much. It’s kind of like Jeff. I had a dad before him, and I know that he loved me very much, and that I loved him, but he died when I was three and I don’t really remember him. Jeff adopted me when I was six, and he is my real dad. I don’t like when people say he isn’t. Even if he wasn’t there when I was born, he has chosen to be. I just have two real dads.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of like that with Nathaniel.”
He could see that she was still curious, though. “So who are his parents, then?”
“That I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it, and I’ve never heard it discussed at all. He came to live with my grandparents when he was a young teenager, and from that point on, he was raised with their children, with my father. I don’t know why he came to live with them. I do know he is family, related somehow. He’s a fourth-born royal, with the gift of healing, but I’ve never been able to figure out what line he’s from.”
He tied off one line of stitches and taped a clean piece of gauze over it before he continued.
“He started living in your world most of the time, though, when he was my age. He was gone for a number of years while he went away from Bristlecone to go to college, and medical school, and complete his residency. Even now, he doesn’t come here as often as I do, and when he does, he’s usually away at one of the other clinics, training those who have served as his apprentices, stocking and helping at the clinics.”
“If he’s a fourth-born royal, doesn’t that mean he has an older brother who’s a king or something?”
Roots of Insight (Dusk Gate Chronicles -- Book Two) Page 8
