Today's Reading
He secured his mount to the post by the door and turned to help the young woman from the donkey. Before he could reach for her, she dismounted with a sprightly hop and hastened to push the gnarled door open. Adin unstrapped his medicine chest and followed in her wake.
He saw his patient immediately, lying sprawled on the courtyard floor, tucked under the folds of a worn blanket. Adin's practiced eyes noted the blood spilled on the stone, the narrow wound at the hairline, and the pale, sweating skin. A woman sat by his side, her bearing still, her face white with exhaustion.
Adin sensed a new tension coil through Roxannah as she approached her father. She perched next to the woman. "Father, Mother, this is Master Adin ben Zerah, Royal Physician." It was the mother's hand she sought, he noticed, not the injured man who lay covered by the blanket.
Adin gave a short bow of his head. "Lord. Lady."
Fravartish gave him a sour look. "Another useless physician, no doubt. I am likely to get better service from the butcher."
Adin bit down a smile as he knelt in the dirt. "I can fetch one for you, if you prefer?"
"Very amusing. Get on with it."
Adin ignored the man's cutting manner and bent to conduct a thorough examination. However rude his patient might be, Adin would do his best to help him. Carefully, he cleansed the wound before sitting back on his haunches.
"This gash requires stitches. I suggest I first help you to your bed, my lord. You will be more comfortable there."
Fravartish grimaced. "I knew you would torture me."
By the smell of him, his patient had imbibed enough wine to feel little pain. Bending, Adin slipped an arm behind Fravartish's broad back and gently pulled him into a sitting position. Roxannah sprang to his other side to lend a hand. He gave her an appreciative nod, and together, they drew the heavy man to his feet.
Roxannah's head only reached her father's shoulder, her delicate frame straining under his considerable weight. Adin hefted his patient closer against him, taking most of the burden. Fravartish's shifting body snagged the girl's tunic, drawing back the fabric of the sleeve and revealing a slender arm. What Adin saw sent an unexpected shaft of white-hot rage through him, making him want to drop the man back on the floor. Let him smash the other side of his head as well.
Black-and-blue marks littered the light skin of Roxannah's arm. Handprints left by some cruel beating. Noting his gaze, she flushed and pulled down her sleeve with a quick motion. As if she had anything to be ashamed of.
What kind of man would do that to so fragile a woman? His own daughter, no less. She appeared more than old enough to be married and mistress of her own home. Her dark blond hair, blue-grey eyes, and flawless skin surely drew many a suitor's eyes. He wondered what kept her bound to this dilapidated house and her cruel father.
It was no business of his.
Adin ground his teeth, tucking the man's arm more securely around his neck as he walked toward the house. He would do his best for his patient in spite of his rising dislike. It was all he could offer the young woman who had come to his door, eyes large with desperation.
He doubted he would ever see payment from Fravartish, who seemed more interested in the contents of his cup than in his responsibilities. But he had long since made a promise to himself and to God that he would not turn anyone away due to lack of funds.
Roxannah tripped under the weight of her father as they lowered him to his bed. Jostled, the man cursed. "Fool!" he hissed. "Can't ever do anything right, can you?"
Adin's jaw knotted. A surge of anger stopped him in his tracks. Instead of sewing up the man, he wanted to give him a bigger gash. He forced a few mouthfuls of air into his lungs until the fire of outrage calmed enough for him to keep a needle steady. At least the pain of its application would keep Fravartish's lips sealed, unable to serve anymore insults while the needle did its work.
Adin's practiced fingers made quick work of the stitches. As he wiped his hands, he explained how the women should change the bandages and cleanse the wound to prevent suppuration. While the mother's lips trembled and she stepped away as if burned by his plain directions, the daughter stood her ground. Her irises had turned a dark grey, all the blue leached out of them. Clearly, she was no more comfortable with his medical direction than her mother. Still, she did not flinch. Not once.
Adin felt an unwanted flicker of warmth for her. An admiration he could not quite deny. He realized he was staring. Taking a hasty step back, he reached for his medicine chest. The daughter was turning out to be more dangerous than the father.
The sooner he left this house, the better.
This excerpt ends on page 25 of the paperback edition.
Monday we begin the book First Love, Second Draft by Becca Kinzerx.
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