The broom scratches against the floor, dust curling in the air and causing me to cough occasionally. The wound on my side throbs with every move but I can't complain. I can only grit my teeth and push through it.
Lyara finished her chore ten minutes ago, but instead of disappearing like everyone else would've, she's here, kneeling beside me with another broom in her hand, whistling like she's enjoying this. "You don't have to help," I mutter, sweeping under one of the long dining tables.
She grins. "I know." I look at her but she doesn't look back, she's too busy enjoying the fact that she's sweeping the dinning with me. I look away and remain quiet. The silence stretches for a moment until I move backward, misjudging the space behind me. My side knocks hard against the corner of the table. "Ahhh!" I flinch, pain shooting up my ribs.
Lyara's on her feet before I can even pretend it didn't hurt. "You okay?" she asks, her brows furrowing as she crouches beside me again.
"I'm fine," I mutter.
"You're lying." She doesn't wait, she lifts my shirt, her fingers cool and steady as she examines the spot. "It's redder than before. You shouldn't be moving so much."
I'm about to snap back that I have to move, punishment or not when the dining hall door creaks open.
Matron Hilda again. She steps in, her eyes immediately locking on us, me half-shirted, Lyara inches from my side. But she's not alone. Standing beside her in elegant violet linens is Alara Valemour. My stomach drops on the sight of her. Lyara lowers my shirt slowly, but I yank it down all the way and shift away from her like she burned me.
Alara takes a few steps forward, furrowing her brows. "What's going on?"
Lyara stands, brushing her palms together and not even trying to hide her annoyance. "I'm tending to Ashen's injury. As you can see."
Alara's frown deepens. "He didn't tell me he was injured."
"That's probably because I gave him the injury, it's serious as he got stabbed by a metal rod," Lyara says flatly. "Considering I gave him the injury, it clearly means I'm responsible for him. And I'll take care of him"
Alara looks from her to me, and I swear her shoulders stiffen. "He's not yours to care for."
"He's not yours to care for either," Lyara counters, her voice calm but sharp.
Matron claps her hands once, the sound loud and sharp. "Enough," she says, clearly irritated. "Ashen, go with Lady Alara. She came to see you. Lyara you'll continue with the punishment. Sweep the dining hall and the dormitories."
Lyara doesn't complain. She only stares at me with unreadable eyes as I stand and make to follow Alara. Alara on the other hand doesn't wait for me to get to her, she walks to me and, without asking, takes my hand in hers. "Come on."
I hesitate just for a second but she doesn't let me, she pulls me away. Before leaving, I glance at Lyara and she's already picking up her broom, her jaw tight as sweeps like none of it matters.
Alara doesn't let go of my hand until we're far away from the dining hall and out into the courtyard. The sun is soft, the early morning breeze carrying the scent of pine and damp soil. We walk quietly before she speak all of a sudden. "You didn't tell me you were injured," she says tightly.
I don't respond at first. I watch the way her fingers twist in the fabric of her gown. "I didn't think it was important."
She spins to face me. "Not important? Ashen, you were stabbed by a metal rod!"
"It's not that deep," I mutter.
"That's not the point," she snaps. "You should've told me."
I shift awkwardly, my hands stuffed in my pockets. "Why? What would you have done?"
She stares at me like I'm the dumbest boy alive. "I would've helped. I could've brought you medicine or a physician, or—" She breaks off with a sharp breath, then suddenly steps forward. Before I can move, she lifts my shirt.
"Hey!" I protest, grabbing at the hem, but she's already seen it, raw, angry red line along my ribs, the faintest smear of dried ointment still visible. Her face softens into something that looks a lot like pain. "It looks worse than you said."
"I've had worse," I grumble, pulling my shirt down again.
"Well, that doesn't make it okay." She crosses her arms. "You're coming with me to the physician. The best in the village."
"I'm fine—"
"You're not." Her eyes flash, stubbornness dripping off her every word. "You can't even bend without flinching. If you don't come with me right now, I swear I'll cry. In front of everyone."
I gape at her. "You wouldn't."
"I would." Her chin lifts defiantly. "I'll cry so loud the overseer himself will come running."
"You're the worst," I groan.
She beams like I just said she's the queen.
"Fine," I say. "But only to stop you from embarrassing both of us."
"I don't get embarrassed," she says, taking my hand again. "Now, let's go before you fall apart completely." And just like that, I let her lead me through the village, half limping, half pretending I'm fine and wondering how a girl who smells like roses and silk can be more stubborn than anyone I've ever met.