Chapter 103: Neither Enemy, Nor Friend (I)

Elara:

The assistant healer stared at me for a full minute before finally releasing a long sigh and shaking her head.

"This is your third visit in less than two months," she pointed out, sounding more surprised than annoyed. "I don’t think I have seen any student visit the infirmary this many times even throughout an entire semester."

I couldn’t help grimacing at that. Allegedly, I was developing quite the reputation around here.

The healer spared Alaric one quick glance before turning her attention back to my ankle, which had swollen considerably since the fall. She retrieved a small vial containing a pale green gel and sat beside me, explaining that the balm would reduce the swelling while her magic accelerated the healing.

I nodded and braced myself as she spread the medicine over my skin, but the moment her fingers pressed against the tender area, a sharp cry escaped my lips. I barely had time to register the pain before I heard movement behind me. Alaric had been leaning against the nearest wall, arms crossed over his chest, but he straightened instantly.

"Careful," he warned, his voice suddenly sharp enough to make the healer flinch. "You are hurting her."

The woman looked at him in surprise, and honestly, I was even more stunned. Helping me was one thing, but reacting like that simply because I had cried out in pain felt... different. Before I could make sense of it, he stepped forward and told the assistant healer that he would take care of my ankle himself. She opened her mouth, clearly prepared to object, but one look from him made her reconsider. Without another word, she handed him the vial and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with him.

I stared at him, still trying to process what had just happened. He stopped in front of me, then lowered himself onto one knee. Before I could ask what he was doing, he carefully pulled my injured foot forward and rested it across his thigh. My breath caught when his fingers wrapped around my ankle, but this time the touch didn’t hurt.

He scooped some of the gel from the vial and gently massaged it into the swollen area, his movements surprisingly careful for someone whose hands were usually associated with combat and destruction. Then warmth began spreading beneath his fingertips. I looked down and watched faint golden-orange sparks flicker against my skin as his fire magic mingled with the medicine. The warmth wasn’t scorching or uncomfortable. It was almost soothing, sinking deeper into my ankle while the pain gradually faded.

I waited for another sharp burst, but it never came. Alaric adjusted his fingers whenever he felt me tense, applying just enough pressure to work the medicine in without hurting me. Not once did I have to wince, let alone cry out. Within minutes, the throbbing had completely disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a strange tingling sensation.

"You heal pretty quickly," he remarked casually as he reached for my sock.

I immediately looked down in alarm. "I can do that myself." I tried to pull my foot away, but he ignored me completely and began carefully sliding my sock back over my ankle. "Alaric."

"Hold still."

His answer was so matter-of-fact that I actually stopped arguing. A few seconds later, he had pulled my boot back into place and secured it properly before finally rising to his feet.

I stared at him for a moment, completely unable to reconcile this version of him with the Alaric I knew. He had carried me through the forest, apologized for startling me, brought me to the infirmary, and now personally healed my injury. None of it made sense. I wasn’t sure whether I should be grateful, suspicious, or both.

I stood carefully and tested my weight on the injured foot. There was nothing. No pain. I took another step, then another, and my ankle felt perfectly normal.

"You really healed it," I murmured, looking at him.

"That’s generally what healing is supposed to do," he replied dryly, and I almost rolled my eyes. Then I noticed something I hadn’t seen earlier.

A huge tear ran along the sleeve of his jacket, the fabric was ripped from the shoulder almost to his elbow. "Are you injured?"

His gaze dropped toward the tear as though he’d only just noticed it himself. "I’m fine." He inspected the damage for another second before, to my absolute shock, he unzipped the jacket and pulled it off before tossing the ruined thing into the nearest dustbin without hesitation.

I stared. First at the discarded jacket and then at the man.

Alaric stood there in nothing but a black tank top, which left his broad shoulders and muscular arms completely exposed. The dim infirmary lighting did absolutely nothing to make him look less intimidating. If anything, it did the opposite. I quickly looked away before he could catch me staring again.

"Come on," he said, apparently oblivious to my brief embarrassment. "I’ll walk you to your dorm."

I should have refused. I should have told him I could manage on my own now that my ankle was healed. Instead, before I could even think through my decision, I found myself nodding.

We left the infirmary together and walked through the quiet dining corridors. It was nearly eleven at night, yet the distant sounds of music and laughter still drifted faintly through the academy. Apparently, the party was still going strong as we didn’t encounter a single student along the way.

The moonlight spilled through the tall windows as we stepped outside, illuminating the stone paths leading toward the first-year dormitory building. For several minutes, neither of us spoke. I found myself painfully aware of the silence, of his footsteps beside mine, and of the fact that only a few hours ago I had considered him one of the people I trusted least in this academy.

Now he was walking me to my dorm.

When we finally reached the entrance of my dorm building, I stopped and turned toward him. The night air was cold enough that I instinctively pulled my coat closer around myself, then glanced at his bare arms.

"Aren’t you cold?" I asked.