and he slumped a bit to give me access. I gathered up his hair in my hands, dragged my nails along the back of his neck to get the sweat-sticky strands, and pulled his hair into a loose knot. I tucked one of the too-short bunches of hair behind his ear. Charles leaned his head back to stare up at me.
“You’re being nice,” he said. His cheeks were pink as if from a sunburn.
I shrugged. “Perhaps I’m a nice person.”
“Even you don’t sound like you believe that.” He yawned. “I don’t hate you, you know. Not anymore. I always trusted you, but you were so…”
“Bitter?” I offered up. “Most people call me stubborn, but only when they want to be polite. If they don’t want to be, they use insufferable.”
“You treated your training as if it were a joke, as if you were the only one these societal rules affect,” Charles said softly. “You sat in class as if it were a waste of your time.”
I swallowed. “To be completely honest, every class excepting yours was a waste of time. There was no unified curriculum. It’s a miracle anyone knows the femur from the fibula. Most of what we learned was self-taught after class. At least you answered questions and talked about useful things.”
I could see the thought rolling through his mind, crinkling up in his brows and thinning his lips into one pouting line. He wore his feelings as well as he wore his clothes.
“Are you going to try and convince me that your terrible attention span has noble reasons?” he asked.
Why would I do that; I knew I was terrible. It was plain as day.
I shook my head. “I was only being a little smart with you. I don’t handle surprises well.”
“Good place we’re going for that.” He let out a deep breath. “I was only being a little smart with you when I called on you. I like to be taken seriously, and you irk me.”
“That’s the least insulting thing anyone has said about me.”
“See how free you are with words?” He glanced up at me. “If your family name is Boucher, I will eat this coat.”
“I cannot believe you’re going to make me change my family name.”
He snorted. “Come again?”
“I’m changing my name to Boucher. Not to make it all about me, but I would like to see you eat that coat. It would be hilarious and wonderful for morale.”
“Your funeral, since it would make me sick and you would have to deal with me,” he said, standing. “I’ll vomit on your favorite shoes.”
“I don’t have a favorite pair of shoes.”
“I’m understanding the insufferable comment now,” he said, but he smiled when he said it. “Would you like me to walk you back to your tent?”
“No,” I said, glancing around the mostly empty infirmary. “I might sleep here. No one can call me dishonorable for that.”
I was supposed to share a tent with Madeline, and I couldn’t suffer through her seeing me alive. Maybe they would think me a corpse and let me rest. Maybe they would burn me with the rest, and when I died, Rainier would wake up.
“That’s not going to work for your spine or for tomorrow.” Charles came back. “Come on.”
“Is that an order, Apprentice Physician du Ravine?” I asked.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Everyone’s always trying to help me,” I said. “For my own good, they always say, but rarely is that true.”
“Emilie,” Charles said, holding out his hand. “You’re in charge of my patients in the morning. It’s in my best interest that you’re well rested.” He swallowed. “And you saw Rainier die but haven’t talked about it. I want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m not,” I said, taking his hand, “but thank you.”
He walked me back. Sleeping there didn’t help—I stared at the top of the tent, sweating in the late summer heat. Eventually, once night had settled over the camp, I crawled out of my sleep roll and made my way to where they were keeping the Thornes captured. The guards wouldn’t let me near, turning me away since everyone was living, and I wandered on the outskirts with my face to the breeze and my nose full of ash. I couldn’t see the pyres that were certainly burning in Kalthorne. A week, and so many dead.
A fly, iridescent and annoying, landed on my arm, and I brushed it away. Then another and another, and my whole head itched before long, even though I knew there was nothing