less, and he thought he’d finally begun to understand why.
Not only was Hestia a Ferronese local, but she’d lost her two sons during the Blood War. Every time she looked at Sev, something in her brusque face softened, and he was glad for his father’s light eyes and his Ferronese name. She’d taken a liking to him at once and diligently cared for his wound, her affection gruff and no-nonsense, but also unwavering, as if he were as important to her as her own children. Sev wondered how they had died… if she’d treated them and failed, or if they’d never returned home from some faraway battlefield.
It was clear that she held sway within Lord Rolan’s household. Not only did she give Sev top-notch medical treatment, but she showed her preference for him in ways that might go unnoticed if Sev weren’t the sort of person who paid attention to details. The medicine she gave him was expensive, the bandages softest linen, his bed made with plump down-filled pillows and finely embroidered sheets. His rooms were cleaned every single day, and his laundry washed and pressed.
As a soldier, those last responsibilities should have been his own, but Sev suspected Hestia was getting him the kind of perks a sick or wounded member of the household would receive—not a lowly foot soldier. Lord Rolan’s estate had an infirmary, but it was meant for wartime, when dozens of beds would be filled. It didn’t make sense to put Sev there, alone, when treating him in a room like this was likely easier for Hestia and her assistants. Even still, she could have treated him in the soldier barracks at this point—but for some reason she kept him here, in comfort.
When Hestia found out Sev didn’t have a “sweetheart,” she took it upon herself to send very pretty serving girls instead of assistants to his rooms—always locals from Ferro—delivering teas or tinctures with a deep bow and a sweet smile. Hestia hadn’t known Sev had no interest in blushing maidens, but she was no fool—before long she was sending handsome serving boys instead.
Sev would turn them away, red-faced and stammering, relieved when he was alone again and he could light his lantern and wait for Kade.
That night, Hestia arrived a bit later than usual, knocking on the door before letting herself in. One of her assistants accompanied her, delivering a tray of materials Hestia would need and then departing.
“I was wondering if you’d forgotten me,” Sev teased after the door closed behind her assistant.
Hestia rolled her eyes. “So needy,” she lamented, though her lips twisted in a smirk. “I’ll have you know, I had a last-minute request from the governor himself. Mosquito bite ointment, so he can entertain on his terrace tonight,” she added with a long-suffering sigh. “The man looks like he has a pox, but he refuses to dine indoors. He’d never admit it, being from Stel, but Ferro has the most beautiful summers in all the empire.”
Sev had been around long enough to know that Lord Rolan took almost all his meals outside on his terrace. Sev assumed he did it for privacy—he closed the doors to the courtyard whenever he entertained, at any rate, leaving his guards to protect him from inside—but maybe Hestia was right and Rolan had a soft spot for the temperate weather.
What Sev wouldn’t do to overhear some of those meetings—like the one that was probably happening tonight. No doubt that was where much of his scheming and plotting took place.
“So, how is the swelling tonight, Sevro?” Hestia asked, dusting off her hands—she’d been separating poppies from their stems and placing the flowers into a pestle and mortar for grinding—before peering down her nose sternly at Sev.
Sev was seated on his bed, legs over the side, and tried not to squirm under her watchful gaze. “It’s not as bad as yesterday,” he hedged. He was quite certain it was exactly the same as the day before and that Hestia would call him out on it at once.
“Hmph—a likely story,” she said, sliding a pair of spectacles onto her nose and leaving her tray to come have a closer look. Sev was already shirtless, and it didn’t take her long to spot the flushed redness of the skin—particularly around the scar tissue—and the limited movement of the joint as she lifted Sev’s arm forward and to the side, one hand holding his wrist, the other gently supporting his elbow. “Were you straining yourself again?”