by Carli Castle
And then, as her mother sat stunned, and her father tried hard to contain a smile, she excused herself, and walked away slowly.
That ought to give them something to think about, she thought as she made her way up to her bedroom. She felt like she’d won a battle. And maybe she had.
She changed into her pajamas for the time being, knowing her mother would visit her room before she went to bed. While she waited, Elle sat on her bed with one of those literary works her father kept suggesting she read. She wasn’t big on reading, unless it was something about healing, so it was a great effort to keep herself from falling asleep.
Like clockwork, her mother knocked once on her door, and without waiting for her to respond, walked inside. She was still in her elegant, red dress and pearls, her hair perfectly coiffed, and makeup intact like she’d just applied it. Maybe her mom was making use of those glamour spells she was so good at.
Elle didn’t think she had ever seen her mother without makeup in her entire life. That thought suddenly became a little unsettling, because how could you not see your mother without her makeup in seventeen years?
“Eleanore,” Mother said, standing by the door.
“Mother. What brings you to this part of town?”
Her mother blinked at her, looking quite confused.
“To my room, mother. What brings you to my room,” she clarified, putting the book aside.
“I just wanted to come and wish you a good night,” Mother said, entering the room further, but not by much. “Also, I wanted to make sure those things you mentioned are what you really want, or if just say you want them to spite me.”
“Spite you?” She sat up on the bed, facing her mother. Sitting straight, she planted her feet firmly on the floor, and clasped her hands on her lap. Just the way she’d been taught. “I would never dream of it.”
“Then why are you choosing things that displease both me and your father?”
Elle took a moment to absorb that. Her father hadn’t said anything about being displeased. He’d liked her green dress idea, and he’d been smiling when she left the dinner table. What was her mother playing at?
“I am not doing anything to specifically make you feel badly, mother. I just wanted to let you know exactly what I want.”
“And that is really want you want,” her mother pressed.
“No,” Elle admitted with a sigh. “I want no party at all, but since you insisted on one, I wanted to tell you what I like and what I expect it to be like.”
“I see,” Mother said. “On another note, I have taught you good manners and decorum from a young age, Eleanore. I expect you to uphold those teachings at all times, especially when at the dinner table with your family. Is that understood?”
Elle wanted to point out her mother hadn’t been the one to teach her those things, but the array of teachers and tutors employed by her mother and father. But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded.
“Absolutely and completely, mother,” she said without batting an eye.
Her mother seemed satisfied by that.
“I will let you rest now.” Mother turned and walked to the door. At the last moment, she turned back. “I would read something more important than that trash, by the way,” she said pointing at the book beside Elle.
“And what other books are more important in your eyes, mother?” Elle worked hard to keep her tone even, because she was pretty sure her face was showing her annoyance.
“Maybe reading materials on how to be a lady would benefit you more than works of fiction.”
Elle said nothing and her mother left. She resisted the strong urge to throw something at the door, as she extended her hand toward it and locked it with magic. The door glowed a deep shade of orange, indicating no one would be able to open the door, nor hear anything happening inside the room.
She went to the bathroom and looked at her reflection on the mirror.
Her eyes seemed too big for her face, but maybe her vision was distorted by her annoyance with her mother. Before she could start dwelling on that, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The tingle started in her stomach, then traveled up to her chest, down her arms, settling in her hands. She took them to her dark hair, running her fingers through it, over and over, until the long locks turned a deep red and shortened to barely brush her shoulders.
Next, she focused on her eyes. She placed her hands over them, and when she moved them away again, they were a deep brown. Her skin she kept the same, but that was mainly because she didn’t want to spend the time going over her entire body, thought she would have liked having darker skin. Maybe that summer she would be spending some time outdoors to get a real tan.
Transmogrification wasn’t a power everyone had, and Elle was glad she was one of the few. Being able to change her appearance was one of the best things she could do, since she had to do so on a regular basis. She couldn’t do the same things many others could, like change appearance with a mere thought, but she would take whatever she could have. What she did was just enough to disguise herself for her clandestine work in the healing house, and she didn’t need any more than that.
Without any more things to distract her, and with her appearance sufficiently disguised, she walked toward the balcony. Sliding the door open, she stepped onto the balcony and walked over to the heavy, wrought iron rail. Elle took one deep breath before she threw herself forward, her body becoming as light as a feather. Gliding was also another power not everyone had, and it sure came in handy at times like these, when she needed to go undetected.
She turned her body as she floated down, her feet pointed at the ground. Her landing was soft and quiet. Seeing two palace guards making nightly rounds, she took cover beside a rose bush. She shrunk back into it, biting into her fist to avoid making a noise when thorns poked at her side.
“The best looking one is the oldest,” one of the guards was saying as they walked by. “I don’t think she’s as prim and proper as she presents herself to the world.”
“No way, the best one is the middle sister,” the other one said.
Elle realized with a jolt they were talking about Harper and Aiessa.
Ew.
“She’s hot as a bonfire, that one.”
“Oh yes, she is,” the second one said. “The way she walks, swaying those hips…” he made a strange noise that made Elle want to gag.
“You do know she can release pheromones, right,” the first one said.
She stood up from her crouching position, having heard enough. The two knights jumped back, going pale like they’d seen a ghost.
“Heavens, let’s really hope you’re not in the frontlines if we ever need defending,” she muttered and jabbed her finger at them. “You’re disgusting. Both of you!”
Before they could speak another word, she teleported, satisfied with the look of terrified bewilderment on their faces. That would teach them not to talk about women like they were hunks of meat. It almost made her laugh when she realized they had no idea who she was, since she looked so different than what they were used to. It also made her nervous that they were the ones making rounds. If one tiny woman could startle them like that, she did not want to know what it would be like if they had a real threat.
She reappeared a moment later in front of the healing house. It was a large, white building, with many windows. Lights were shining through them, and she could see the shadows of people moving just inside.
Entering, she flashed her credentials, a white card with a picture of her fake identity, and the name Parker Dale on it. The name was creative enough no one had questioned it, so she didn’t worry about anyone suspecting her real name.
She made her way to the second floor where a posted list would tell her where she was stationed for the night. Other healers, nurses, and assistants greeted her as she walked by. Greeting each of them in return, she felt pride that they knew her, that they appreciated her. She had friends here. She felt included, and not because she was the princess, but be
cause she was good at what she did and they valued her for it.
Picking up the clipboard on the front desk, she searched for her name, and her heart skipped a beat. She put her hand over her mouth and squeaked. The receptionist looked at her.
“Everything okay,” she asked. Elle was sure her name was Maggie, but she couldn’t remember. She was new, and Elle hadn’t had the chance to really talk to her.
“Paul Ferrin is my senior healer tonight,” she asked the young woman, who didn’t look like she was much older than her.
“It looks like it,” she responded with a smile.
“Oh, my heavens,” Elle whispered and set down the board.
Paul Ferrin would be her senior healer.
The Paul Ferrin, the best healer in recent history. The man was a complete legend in the healing world. He’d written most of the books she owned on healing!
How many times had she dreamed of working with him? And now she had a chance.
Paul Ferrin was the kind of brilliant healer Elle wanted to be someday.
Elle stopped to take a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she walked down the hall to the area in which he was healing that night, hoping she did nothing to annoy him or get in his way. Her hands shook as she reached his office. The door was closed and she briefly debated whether or not she should knock. Before she could make up her mind, the door opened, and the very man she was obsessing about stood right in front of her.
His eyes were a stunning blue with hints of green. She was taken aback by him, and had to blink twice before she got her wits about her and shot her hand forward.
“Healer Ferrin, I’m E… er, Parker. Sir. Healer Ferrin, sir.” He took her hand, which she was mortified to realize was shaking. She sounded like she was mentally challenged. “I’m your healing assistant for tonight.”
It was all there, the height and build, and the eyes. The difference was the glasses Healer Ferrin had perched on the bridge of his nose. It was like looking at an older version of Lucas, and only after their recent interaction could she really see it. She had known they were father and son, of course; she wasn’t living under some rock, but the similarities were shouting at her now. The way Healer Ferrin moved, his smile, and even the shape of his nose—it was incredible!
He peered down at her over his glasses.
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard good things about you, young lady. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Parker.” He motioned for her to enter his office. She walked in, took a chair when he offered it. “Parker. That’s an interesting name for a young lady.”
“Yes, my father has a sense of humor. He thought it was a nice, strong name.” It was the truth. Her father had given her the third name, going against her mother’s wishes, which was uncharacteristic. It was the only time she’d ever heard of him opposing her mother, and she found she really liked it.
Healer Ferrin smiled.
“I think he’s right, though my name isn’t as interesting as yours. I’m Paul Ferrin.”
“I know who you are, sir,” she stammered, then blushed. Well wasn’t she a fumbling idiot all of a sudden? She hadn’t had that hard of a time talking to people in… well, in forever. She was good at talking to people, she’d had to be. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you too, Healer Ferrin.”
His blue eyes sparkled. “The name’s Paul, dear,” he said, and she found that when he called her ‘dear’, it didn’t sound condescending at all.
“Paul,” she breathed, and told herself to start acting like a normal person.
“So, tell me, Parker. What do you want to take away from working with me tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not here to merely assist, that’s obvious from your great track record in this healing house.”
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, the wild thought he knew exactly who she was going through her head.
“I’m not tuning in, if it worries you,” Paul said referring to his empathic power. “You’re practically shouting it.”
She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and took rein of her intense emotions. “I guess it is obvious.”
“Desire is one of the hardest emotions to control.” Paul sat back on his chair. “Tell me what you need me to do to help you be successful.”
“Just teach me everything you know. I want to learn it all. I want to be great, like you.”
A blush crept up his neck onto his face and she found it charming. “That’s quite flattering, thank you.”
“You are a legend, sir. I mean Paul. I’ve followed your career and I have studied every book you’ve ever written and all the ones you’ve recommended. I know how to make almost all healing potions and know how and when to use them.”
“Any experience healing by touch?”
She shook her head. She’d expected the question, but expecting it hadn’t taken away the dread. Healing by touch wasn’t easy, but one thing was for sure, if you wanted to be a good healer, you learned how to heal by touch.
“No,” she mumbled.
“Don’t feel embarrassed, healing by touch is not easy and you can’t learn it from books.”
She nodded eagerly, wishing she could ask him if he’d be her teacher. She didn’t have anyone else, and although she’d worked with many amazing healers during her assisting hours, Paul Ferrin was as good as it got.
She contemplated asking him, but didn’t know how it would be received. He seemed like a nice enough man, but looks could be deceiving. You just had to look at her parents to know that.
“I was wondering…” she stopped, wishing her heart would stop beating so hard. “Would you be opposed to teaching me?”
“Touch healing?” He stopped, seemingly considering what she was asking of him. “I could.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. This being nervous deal wasn’t something she liked. Normally, she was quite assertive, so she wasn’t keen on acting like an unsure little girl in front of this great man. She needed to make all the right impressions, and right then she was probably coming across like a fish out of water.
“Thank you, sir. Sorry, Paul. Thank you so much, I would owe you everything.”
“You could repay me by using all your talent to help as many people as you possibly can. It’s our craft. Do it justice.”
“I promise!” She lifted her hand, placed it over her heart.
“Alright, Parker, let’s get going.” He stood from his chair, walked to the door and held it open for her. She followed him to another wing where he had several patients he was caring for that evening. It was pristine, everything in perfect order, and it smelled like potions.
They were all separate rooms, some small, some bigger. They were distributed depending on patients’ needs. The bigger rooms were normally used for several patients at a time when they weren’t contagious.
The first person they visited was in one of the single bedrooms. It was a woman with red, angry boils all over her face, arms and chest. She was snoozing when they entered her dimly lit room. Her brows were completely gone, and part of the hair on her head was coiled around her face, knotted.
Paul picked up a clipboard with her information and showed it to Elle.
“This sweet lady is Isidora Johnson. She had been cooking a potion for a common cold, and used her dragon berries for it. It blew up, singed her brows and gave her these lovely boils. Why did the potion blow up?”
She took a breath. “She most likely mixed the dragon berries with mint leaves when the berries weren’t to the correct ripeness.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Paul informed her. “The berries were still unripe and she decided to go for it anyway, which caused the reaction. She was far worse when she arrived two days ago. Now tell me, what else could she have done to make this worse?”
“Probably put in natural sweetener. For example, with honey, if she had put it in with the dragon berries and then added the mint leaves, it would have poisoned her.”
“Correct. And that’s why you should let a studied potioneer make what you need, instead of trying it on your own,” Paul said. “I have used an antidote already, which helped with reducing the size of the boils. The rest will be done with low doses of the same potion and some touch healing.”
Elle felt giddy when he put down the clipboard. She was desperate to see him in action and held her hands behind her back to stop them from shaking.
“The first thing you need to know about touch healing is that you need to tune in to their injury, whatever that may be. It can get painful for you, which can be difficult, so make sure to brace yourself before you tell me what Isidora’s feeling.”
“You want me to do it?”
“You said you wanted to learn,” he pointed out.
“I did, but I thought I was going to watch you first.”
“No one learns healing by touch by merely watching.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t want to just yet.”
“No, I do. You just took me by surprise.”
“I do that sometimes.” He smiled and she responded with a smile of her own. She couldn’t believe he trusted her to do this.
Elle took a deep breath, opening herself to the other woman’s inner self. Since she was sleeping, Elle had to go even deeper, slowly starting to feel the burn of the boils, numbed by the potions she was given.
“The boils burn slightly now. She’s sleeping deeply, dreaming. Her body is achy from not being able to get out of bed.”
“Very good,” Paul said and went to the side of Isidora. “The next thing you need to do is maintain that link to make sure your healing is working the correct way. What you want to do first is work on getting rid of the source of pain before you remove the actual pain. Why do you think that is?”
“Because by removing the source it means the pain will go away and won’t have a way to return.”
“Exactly. It’s a simple thing many get wrong in their haste to provide relief,” he said. “Stand next to me and open your hands over the more predominant wounds.”
