Eona - Alison Goodman [65]
The sharp hiss of water on coals broke my stare.
The physician stood over a large brazier, swirling liquid in a pan. “Shall we proceed, my lady?” he said, fresh energy in his voice.
“How is he?”
“From observation, I would say his Hua is keeping him from returning from the shadow world until he has sufficient strength.” He set the pan on the brazier and joined me beside the pallet. “I have never attended anyone of royal blood before, my lady. Nor have I ever examined a patient without touching him.”
“And I have never been a physician’s instrument before,” I said, meeting his anxious smile with my own. “How should we start?’
“I am of the Meridian school, my lady.” Seeing my obvious ignorance, he added, “My diagnosis is through the pulse and the energy lines. Do you know if His Majesty leads with the sun side or the moon side?”
I tried to picture Kygo fighting; in which hand did he hold his primary sword? Unbidden, the image turned into his right hand softly touching my face. “He is sun,” I said abruptly.
“Of course,” the physician murmured. “The Heavenly Master would naturally be allied with sun energy.” He beckoned me along the side of the pallet. It was stacked on four rougher straw mattresses. “Now, my lady, take his wrist and find his pulse between the tendons.”
I carefully lifted the blanket, exposing Kygo’s muscular abdomen and the lean length of his thigh. Only a scrap of material lay in between. Heat rushed to my face. “He is only wearing undershorts,” I said tightly, focusing fiercely on the cave ceiling. Yet the image of his strong body stayed clear in my vision.
“That is how he arrived,” the physician said. “Either he discarded his clothes to avoid drowning, or the force of the water ripped them from him.” He leaned closer. “Is that bruising? Please let me see his chest and ribs.”
I pulled the blanket down and quickly dropped it over his lower body. Still, I caught sight of the deep line of muscle that distinguished flat belly from hipbone. Such strength. And such frailty.
The physician bent down, studying Kygo’s ribs. The width of his chest was marred by a long gash, and deep blue-black bruising flowered across his right side. My gaze slid over the Imperial Pearl, its glowing beauty like a gentle pressure at the base of my skull.
“My lady, would you please—very gently—press through the swelling to the bones beneath the bruises and tell me what you feel?”
“Won’t that hurt him?”
He looked up at me, surprised. “A good question. Does a patient in the shadow world register pain—or anything else for that matter? It is hotly debated across the schools. Let us say that, if he does feel it, he won’t remember his pique when he awakens.” He smiled, but there was steel beneath it. “My lady, I need to know if his ribs are broken and threaten his breathing.”
Under the careful direction of the physician, I pressed the darkened swelling around Kygo’s chest. His skin was reassuringly warm, the dried smears of mud dusting my fingers and leaving a powdery track of my progress. I found no shiftings or softenings of bone along his ribcage.
The physician nodded, pleased. “Only bruised.” He noted something on Kygo’s head and moved to study it. “This injury on his crown; I cannot see how deeply it penetrates. Pull it apart for me so I can see within, please.”
We exchanged places. The wound sliced through the regrowth on Kygo’s shaved head, alongside the mud-matted imperial queue. I positioned my fingers on either side and carefully shifted the thin flesh.
The physician peered closely at it, then sighed with relief. “It is only a shallow cut. That is good news. The point of power in the crown is the seat of the spirit. If that is damaged, there is no way to heal it.”
I nodded. In Dragoneye studies, the vivid purple point was also called the House of Truth. It was the center of insight and enlightenment—vital for an emperor.
The physician ushered me back along Kygo’s body. “Now, his pulse. Sun side.”
I picked up Kygo’s right hand, cradling the long