the local healer here?” he asked as his eyes scanned her small house in
disgust.
“I
am. There isn’t another healer until you reach the border.”
The
guard seemed even more disgusted by this news and snorted before going outside
to speak to the other guards.
Turning
to the man who lay across her table, she gently ran her hands over his head.
He’d been rendered unconscious after a mysterious attack had thrown him from
his horse and her Aeveren neighbors, seeing the Russian Tsar Nicholas I was a
fellow Aeveren, directed his guards to bring him to her.
For
more than a half hour, he’d laid there unconscious while Yevtsye tried to
revive him and dealt with his guard’s intimidation and impatience. She’d
examined him but found nothing physically wrong, except for his inability to
wake.
Over
and over, she touched his head hoping to sense some feeling of pain but felt
nothing. She moved her hands to his torso, opening the top of his heavy
military uniform coat. Carefully, she unbuttoned each shiny gold button until
she was able to see his white uniform shirt underneath. As she moved to lift
it, the guard returned and placed the end of the gun’s barrel in her back.
“What
are you doing?” he barked.
Terrified,
she slowly lifted her hands and began to explain. “I cannot find anything wrong
with his head. I want to check his chest and stomach.” As she spoke, her voice
wavered as the feel of the gun in her back began to hurt.
The
guard retreated to the other side of the table and watched her movements
carefully. Slowly, she lifted her patient’s shirt to examine his skin for any
evidence of illness or injury. Her hands moved over his rough skin sprinkled
with thick black hair, and she noted each section of his body until she turned
to the guard.
“There
is no reason for him to not wake. I’ve checked him thoroughly, and I can find
nothing.”
Enraged,
the guard lunged at her over the patient’s legs, pushing her back against the
wall. As she pleaded for mercy, he slapped her face repeatedly, causing her to
cry out in pain. Finally, he pulled her by the hair back toward the Tsar and
held her there.
“Heal
him or die. It’s that simple.”
Tears
rolled down over her cheeks and fell onto the man’s chin and neck as she prayed
for a miracle to save both the Tsar’s life and hers. Nothing in her abilities
as a healer seemed to help her revive him.
Beneath
her, she saw the slight flutter of his eyelashes as he began to wake. Hoping to
God he wasn’t about to die, she gently stroked his face as she whispered to
him.
“Tsar,
please wake. Are you well?”
The
patient’s dark brown eyes opened slowly, and Yevtsye thanked God for hearing
her prayers. Gruffly, he asked the guard, “Ivan, where am I?”
“My
lord, right outside the village where you were thrown from your horse.”
Slowly,
the Tsar raised himself to sit upright and looked at Yevtsye as if to study her.
He turned to face his man and ordered, “Get the guard ready. I’m ready to
travel.”
Ivan
bowed and left to alert his men of the plans, and the Tsar said, “Did he hurt
you?”
Silently, she
nodded and touched her hand to her still stinging cheek.
“I’m
sorry, healer. Ivan isn’t Aeveren. He has no respect for what you do.”
“He
threatened to kill me if I couldn’t heal you, but I found no injuries or
illness to heal.”
Standing,
he held his hand out to her and explained, “I have the shaking sickness my
mother had. Nobody but my personal healer knows this, but I foolishly left him
at home.”
Bowing
his head slightly, the Tsar apologized for inconveniencing her and left with
his men without another word.
What
she’d gone through at Amon’s was nothing compared to having her life threatened
by a Russian soldier. Thea thought about the time she’d spent at Amon’s house,
wishing she could tell Kat the wonderful news that finally she’d been given a
destined one. Unfortunately, even he didn’t believe that was
disgust.
“I
am. There isn’t another healer until you reach the border.”
The
guard seemed even more disgusted by this news and snorted before going outside
to speak to the other guards.
Turning
to the man who lay across her table, she gently ran her hands over his head.
He’d been rendered unconscious after a mysterious attack had thrown him from
his horse and her Aeveren neighbors, seeing the Russian Tsar Nicholas I was a
fellow Aeveren, directed his guards to bring him to her.
For
more than a half hour, he’d laid there unconscious while Yevtsye tried to
revive him and dealt with his guard’s intimidation and impatience. She’d
examined him but found nothing physically wrong, except for his inability to
wake.
Over
and over, she touched his head hoping to sense some feeling of pain but felt
nothing. She moved her hands to his torso, opening the top of his heavy
military uniform coat. Carefully, she unbuttoned each shiny gold button until
she was able to see his white uniform shirt underneath. As she moved to lift
it, the guard returned and placed the end of the gun’s barrel in her back.
“What
are you doing?” he barked.
Terrified,
she slowly lifted her hands and began to explain. “I cannot find anything wrong
with his head. I want to check his chest and stomach.” As she spoke, her voice
wavered as the feel of the gun in her back began to hurt.
The
guard retreated to the other side of the table and watched her movements
carefully. Slowly, she lifted her patient’s shirt to examine his skin for any
evidence of illness or injury. Her hands moved over his rough skin sprinkled
with thick black hair, and she noted each section of his body until she turned
to the guard.
“There
is no reason for him to not wake. I’ve checked him thoroughly, and I can find
nothing.”
Enraged,
the guard lunged at her over the patient’s legs, pushing her back against the
wall. As she pleaded for mercy, he slapped her face repeatedly, causing her to
cry out in pain. Finally, he pulled her by the hair back toward the Tsar and
held her there.
“Heal
him or die. It’s that simple.”
Tears
rolled down over her cheeks and fell onto the man’s chin and neck as she prayed
for a miracle to save both the Tsar’s life and hers. Nothing in her abilities
as a healer seemed to help her revive him.
Beneath
her, she saw the slight flutter of his eyelashes as he began to wake. Hoping to
God he wasn’t about to die, she gently stroked his face as she whispered to
him.
“Tsar,
please wake. Are you well?”
The
patient’s dark brown eyes opened slowly, and Yevtsye thanked God for hearing
her prayers. Gruffly, he asked the guard, “Ivan, where am I?”
“My
lord, right outside the village where you were thrown from your horse.”
Slowly,
the Tsar raised himself to sit upright and looked at Yevtsye as if to study her.
He turned to face his man and ordered, “Get the guard ready. I’m ready to
travel.”
Ivan
bowed and left to alert his men of the plans, and the Tsar said, “Did he hurt
you?”
Silently, she
nodded and touched her hand to her still stinging cheek.
“I’m
sorry, healer. Ivan isn’t Aeveren. He has no respect for what you do.”
“He
threatened to kill me if I couldn’t heal you, but I found no injuries or
illness to heal.”
Standing,
he held his hand out to her and explained, “I have the shaking sickness my
mother had. Nobody but my personal healer knows this, but I foolishly left him
at home.”
Bowing
his head slightly, the Tsar apologized for inconveniencing her and left with
his men without another word.
What
she’d gone through at Amon’s was nothing compared to having her life threatened
by a Russian soldier. Thea thought about the time she’d spent at Amon’s house,
wishing she could tell Kat the wonderful news that finally she’d been given a
destined one. Unfortunately, even he didn’t believe that was
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