Chapter XXIV (Part II) - Of Gods and Monsters

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When I awoke the next morning, it was to find that I had been divested of yesterday morning's ensemble. I sat up disoriented and puzzled by my nakedness. Had I undressed myself sometime during the night? I must have been so utterly exhausted that I had no cognizant memory of doing so.

I looked over to where Lucian lay spread out as if he were the bed's only occupant. He was gloriously naked except for the bandage on his thigh and he had flung an arm haphazardly over his face so I could not tell yet if he was awake. Watching the steady rise and fall of his golden chest, I was relieved to note that he did not seem feverish with infection and that his color was good.

I gently left the bed and grabbed yesterday's shift that had been lying discarded on the floor, then pulled it over my head for modesty's sake. Having completed the task, I once again eased myself back onto the mattress and carefully leaned over Lucian's midriff, trying desperately not to stare at where the little pathway of golden hair was tempting me with wicked persuasion. I did look and then abruptly forced my eyes away.

The bandage, you dolt! Check his wound and stop molesting an unconscious man! I blushed the while I admonished myself silently. 'Twould seem I was as much an indignant prude as I was a voyeur. Although, was it not natural to be curious about one's husband? He was, after all, a fine specimen.

I gently loosened the strips of linen bandaging his thigh and unwound them slowly. Fortunately, his leg was bent ever so slightly, the convenient position therefore making my exercise efficient and unlikely to rouse him. I pulled away the stiff fibers, caked with dried blood as they were, and dropped the soiled items on the floor before assiduously lifting the last layer.

I sucked in an incredulous breathe, the sibilance of it calling Lucian out of slumber. He moved instantly into action and yanked the sheet over the lower half of his body, his agility far too nimble for any man — let alone one that had been as severely injured as he had. I jumped back, opening and closing my mouth like a dying trout. No words came to me and he, in turn, hit me with the full blast of his reproachful gaze. 

But his fury did not warrant my notice nor did I spare it any mind. My tumultuous confusion and shock was all too great, spurred as it was in the face — or rather the absence — of his fatal wound! My eyes scanned his covered thigh as though I might see through the sheet, but it was enough; what I had seen was now firmly etched into my memory. His barring the wound from my view was belated and moot.

"How is this possible?!" My voice came out breathy and garbled, but he understood me well enough.

"Did not Fendrel tell you that the injury was slight!"

"The devil you say! Are you a necromancer? A devil?!" I edged further away from him. Seeing again, with my mind's eye, what remained of his lesion: naught but a long, thin scab where there should be dying flesh!

"My condition is somewhat more complicated than that," he said through a clenched jaw. "Perhaps you would think me a devil if you knew the whole of it..."

"More secrets?" I shuddered. My lips were parched and I wet them with a nervous flick of my tongue. "And you still will not tell me?" I asked. He remained taciturn. "Am I losing my mind?" I shouted, "I have eyes, Lucian. I saw the wound! How did you heal yourself so quickly? Tell me that at least!" I slammed my hands on the bed with as mighty a blow as I could muster, but it purged none of my frustration for it produced only a muffled, soft sound against the mattress.

Finally, he did speak. "I have the capacity to heal at a rapid rate-"

I made a snide sound as if to say, Oh really.

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