Something sticky was on my body.
I was sleeping on the divan. Not designed for a fully grown man since my feet were sticking out of its end. So no sleep for me.
I tapped on my rib cage, feeling the sticky room material, then bringing it to my eyesight. My vision almost blurred, seeing the red, almost liquid material.
My blood coated my fingers. I peered down at my body, seeing my stomach create a pool of blood trickling down to the floor.
You stupid piece of shit. Why did you have to mess up the floor like that?
I tried to limp over to a sink so I could find some supplies to sew myself up. Between the beatings I got from high lords or other boys who, for some reason, were jealous of my very high position. or just the occasional practice stunt going wrong. I had my fair share of stitches.
I was pretty sure if I found a proper sewing kit and some wash towels, I would be able to fix myself up. It was still dark out, so I thumped into the wall and fell down. I kind of just wanted to lie there and sulk in that moment, but a small figure emerged above me.
She peered down at me, biting her lower lip, trying to hold back laughter. Her voice that sounded like wind chimes, "are you Uncle Taj?"
Sitting up with a lot of effort now that I realized that my rib cage was probably suffering, it was much more noticeable how hard it is to breathe. I clutch onto my abdominal area, then remove it, seeing the blood finally went through the fabric.
I freeze, realizing that I should probably not show a little girl the extent of my injuries, so I cover up the slowly growing stain on my shirt with my palm, wincing from the pressure.
I tilted my head, scanning the girl. She was in pajamas with her hair spilling down her shoulders. The color of a raven, clearly like her mom, but her hazel bright eyes were wholly foreign.
What was most familiar to me was the mischief, the glint of mischief in her smile. That was all mom.
I returned her smile, saying, "Your mom is Nyla, isn't she?"
She nods, showing her missing front teeth."I'm Leni. Other mommy says that you're a sex criminal," she enunciates the last words in each syllable.
I make a mock frown, pretending to be stern. "Does your mom know you're awake?"
She looked alarmed, putting a finger to my mouth and shushing me. A snicker escapes my lips. I mouth out, "Don't worry, it could be our secret. Why won't you help me up?"
She offers her hand, and although it's little help, I pretend to use her body as weight. We walk as I say stuff like, "Wow, you're so strong. You have muscles!"
She grins all the way until she shows me to the bathroom.
I wash off the blood as I send her to fetch me some towels. Now that I'm looking at it, most of the bleeding is internal, it seems. Which is bad, because I can't fix it like this, I lay a palm on the offended limb, and I hiss in pain. Fuck, that hurt.
I peer down at my palm, remembering the warm light that healed Helena.
No matter what kind of power it was, it wasn't mine.
When the king grasped my hand, it felt as if he was draining his own life and dumping the last of his energy into me. It was bone-chilling to think that he might have wasted his last breath giving me this strange new power.
Maybe I can heal myself like this. I laid my hand on my stomach, closing my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling I had in that moment, the fear, the anxiety that she might die. A minute passed, then two. When I realized it wasn't working, I sighed a long breath.
So I'm not getting healed like that. Great.