35 - Waking Up

  If the first walk to the infirmary felt like a breeze, this one was a dream. No fighting, no biting. Just utter obedience.

  It was heartbreaking.

  As they secured the walking chains around his wrists and ankles, they tensed, expecting - even hoping for, Bran admitted - resistance. But there was none. Not even a flicker or a flinch. Luka stood when prompted, shuffled forward when told, let Bran keep a steady hand on his shoulder, and followed Collin like a sheep following a shepherd. A chill swept through them all.

  They shuffled slowly down the dim corridor and up into the light. Though they’d sent word ahead, the knights they passed couldn’t help but stare. The old guard turned away quicker than the new bloods, the conflict between their heads and their hearts warring across their expressions.

  “It’s not easy to let go of what we lost,” Bran murmured to Lyndon in passing. “But we’re not heartless.”

  “I had wondered if that was the case,” Lyndon said, nodding. “It’s hard enough coming into this with fresh eyes. But after your losses-”

  “He wouldn’t have wanted us to dwell,” Edain quipped. “Not that it’s stopped us, mind, but dwelling doesn’t get the job done.”

  Bran shook his head. “You sure that’s what he said or that’s what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying he probably stole that from me - oh, look! Here we are!”

  Edain picked up the pace a little and pushed into the infirmary. Sunlight spilled through the open windows, through the shoved-aside curtains, and bathed the infirmary in a warm, bright glow. A faint breeze kept it from getting too stuffy. The other healers froze as soon as they caught sight of Luka in the doorway, but quickly averted their gazes as the knights shuffled through with the monster. To their credit, however, they simply busied themselves elsewhere in the room. The quiet clink of glass and the grind of mortar and pestle filled the room once more if just a touch quieter.

  They found a perfect little corner to sit Luka down - a small padded bench beneath an open window at the back of the room. Bran breathed in the scent of fresh herbs as he positioned Luka on the bench, trying to make him more comfortable.

  “I’ll help with the bath again,” Lyndon said before striding towards the waiting tub.

  Maeve tapped Bran’s shoulder. Wordlessly, she handed him a string of licorice. Bran smiled up at her and took the candy. His fingers brushed across hers. She didn’t pull back.

  Ignoring the way his heart beat a little quicker, Bran turned back to Luka. He held the candy out near his hands. Still nothing.

  “Come on,” Bran said encouragingly. “It’s yours. Deal? Want?”

  He tried bringing it just beneath Luka’s nose. A twitch. Bran’s heart quickened for a different reason now. Was it? Or was he imagining it? But no. Another twitch, nose moving slightly as the sweet scent wafted between them.

  “Hungry now, huh?” Bran teased softly.

  For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, Luka’s hand twitched.

  “Come on,” Bran coaxed lightly. “It’s yours.”

  With a slow, deliberate movement, Luka reached out. His expression didn’t change, his eyes didn’t flicker, but the scars over the back of his hand warped the skin as he tightened his fingers around the candy. Bran helped him pull it to his mouth, where Luka’s lips settled around the licorice. He didn’t nibble, didn’t move at all really. But it was something. Something more than stillness.

  He woke up slowly. The process was excruciating, almost imperceptible at first. The bath did wonders. Whether it was the sensation of being clean, or simply being in a new space, it woke Luka up little by little. He soaked beneath the warm water, free of chains at Edain’s insistence.

  “Where exactly can he go?” she had asked, shaking her head. “In that state?”

  It started with a flinch. Bran lifted a cloth to his face, attempting to wipe away a bit of dirt on his cheek, and he blinked and pulled away slightly. Bran hovered a little, wondering if it was just a reflex, but as he reached again, Luka pulled away further. A rumble sounded in his throat, weak but there. Bran’s eyes softened a little.

  “Hey, now,” he said, tapping three. “Deal?”

  No answer at first. But then - tap, tap, tap, tap. Bran swallowed a laugh, and nodded.

  “Deal,” he said softly. “Four, not three.”

  Then, he reached up again. Luka did not pull back this time. But the licorice dangling from his lips shifted as he began to nibble, and his eyes began to flicker as he looked around.

  “It’s working,” Collin whispered in awe.

  Indeed, it was.

  Edain grinned. Bran shook his head.

  “Do not say it,” he warned her as she passed him the soap.

  She threw up her hands, and walked away, but the “I told you so” still somehow echoed in the space between them.

  By the time the bath ended, Luka had woken fully. He perched on a stool, shivering a little while wrapped in a towel as Maeve brought over new clothes. His eyes didn’t stop watching everything and everyone, darting fervently between people and objects. Bran had yet to get near with the comb, fearing the tangles would only get worse is left alone but nervous to agitate him further.

  “It’s alright,” Bran said.

  But Luka flinched away as Collin stepped too close, and began snapping, his teeth coming dangerously close to Maeve’s fingers when she reached for him. The collar around his neck pulsed once, a faint whine in the air, like heat building beneath a lid. Edain finally snapped.

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  “Idiots!” Edain hissed. “Back off, will you?”

  “But-”

  “He’s not changed! But if you keep acting like he is, he’s going to hurt someone, and then we’ll have to do something,” Edain said harshly.

  “Careful,” Lyndon warned them from where he stood near the door, arms folded over his chest. “Sergeant Glennan is right.”

  Bran and the others hesitated before stepping back. Luka trembled as he crouched low on the stool, head beneath his hands as he kept his head ducked. But as soon as they stepped back, he quieted a little. The collar around his neck died, but his glare did not.

  “We can’t let his hair stay like that,” Bran murmured. “It’ll get knotted and be uncomfortable.”

  “We could just cut it,” Maeve suggested in a half whisper. “It’d be easier to maintain.”

  “You want to take a pair of blades near him?” Bran asked, incredulous.

  Luka growled again at the sound of a raised voice. Bran’s mouth snapped shut.

  “I’ll do it,” Lyndon said, stepping forward with the kind of casual calm that made both Bran and Edain frown. “Give me the scissors.”

  Maeve blinked. “Sir—”

  “My niece doesn’t like being touched either,” Lyndon said mildly as he accepted the scissors. “You learn to be quick. Gentle. And distracting.”

  He didn’t wait for permission. Instead, he stepped toward Luka, crouched slightly to Luka’s eye level, and without ceremony, shoved a stick of licorice straight between his lips.

  Luka startled. His eye went wide as the candy hit his tongue, and for the briefest flicker a growl erupted from his throat. But then, the sweetness must have finally registered and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Bran watched in disbelief as Luka’s jaw worked slowly, chewing, tasting. The first moment of brightness they’d seen in hours.

  “Good lad,” Lyndon murmured, stepping around behind him. His movements were smooth, unhurried. But not slow. Measured. Practiced.

  Luka’s shoulders tensed the second the scissors touched his hair. A growl rumbled low in his throat.

  Before it could build into anything sharper, Lyndon simply reached around and—lightly—tapped Luka on the nose.

  The growl snapped forward, sudden and sharp—teeth bared, just shy of a bite. Lyndon didn’t flinch.

  Instead, he opened his palm.

  Luka froze, eye flicking between Lyndon’s face and the sugar fruits resting in his hand.

  “Behave,” Lyndon said. Calm. Even. The same tone Garrick used. Not a command. A given.

  Luka stared. Then—tap, tap, tap. Three sharp taps to his own nose. His hand shot out, snatching the sweets and stuffing them all into his mouth, cheeks puffing slightly as he grudgingly let Lyndon work. He still flinched when the first snip came, but he didn’t growl or bite. Lyndon worked quickly, fingers surprisingly deft, combing through the worst tangles with his free hand and trimming with the other.

  “Almost done,” he murmured once or twice.

  “Well, it seems our new knight commander is just full of surprises,” Edain said.

  In no time, they had Luka with a new hair cut, dressed and perched on a bench in the corner of the room, back plastered to the wall as he devoured a late breakfast. The bread and eggs disappeared quickly and messily. No one could get close enough without teeth snapping together. Still, no one tried all that hard, either. Every now and then, Luka would lift a hand to his newly cut hair, fingertips brushing over the short strands, tilting his head as if trying to process this small change. With his cheeks stuffed with food, he looked quite the chipmunk.

  No one laughed, though.

  “Good to see his appetite return,” Lyndon murmured softly as they sat a distance away, trying not to stare as Edain fed him.

  “This still feels strange,” Bran admitted.

  “Nervous without the chains?” Maeve asked him, but there was no bite in her words.

  Rather, it sounded almost understanding. Bran glanced down at her hand but didn’t move.

  “Yes,” he said, then paused. “Does that make us horrible people?”

  Lyndon didn’t answer at first. They watched as Edain passed Luka another small bread roll stuffed with eggs. Luka snatched it from her.

  “Hey, no!” Edain shouted in his face.

  Luka flinched back against the wall while glaring wildly at her. She met his glare with one of her own.

  “I think,” Lyndon said slowly, “it makes us human. Now, whether that’s a good thing or not, remains to be seen…”

  He trailed off, noticing one of the quartermaster’s assistants hovering nervously in the doorway. He stood and walked over. Bran didn’t hear what was said, but Lyndon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He gestured to Bran. The sergeant stood and walked over.

  “We’re going to have to wrap this up,” Lyndon said softly. “I’m glad this is working, but I have responsibilities in the tower and there’s a problem with our stores.”

  Bran felt a pang in his chest as he turned to see Edain and Luka now locked in a staring contest, eyes narrowed, both frozen.

  “Do we have to?”

  Then, he blinked and blushed. The words had spilled from his mouth before he even knew what they were. Lyndon clapped him on the shoulder. But before he could answer, Edain piped up.

  “Just leave him here, Commander,” she said, never breaking eye contact with Luka.

  The commander frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea, sergeant.”

  “It’s the only one,” Edain replied easily, still not looking away from Luka. “You think we’re going to break the streak now, after all this?”

  Luka’s eyes glared daggers at Edain, who smirked.

  Lyndon opened his mouth, but Maeve spoke before he could.

  “I have sedatives,” she said quietly. “Two on hand, more in the cabinet. And I’ll stay. So will Bran and Edain.”

  “And we’ll post the kid outside - Collin will go running in case anything happens,” Edain said, grinning.

  Lyndon looked between them. Maeve’s exhaustion was visible, but so was her determination. Edain lounged like this was some big game she was winning - though Bran realized she probably was. Bran wasn’t sure what to do. He was worried, but hopeful. It felt strange. His hands flexed restlessly at his sides.

  “Sergeant Halek?” Lyndon asked him softly.

  Bran sighed. “He’s contained. Why not?”

  Edain snorted. “With all due respect, commander, we’re the Second Order. You think we can’t handle one sulky, puff-cheeked boy?”

  Boy. The word hit them all hard. Bran swallowed. It was the first time Bran had heard the word out loud, and damn did it make all the confused and frustrated feelings surge forward again. But it had exactly the effect Edain probably meant it to have.

  Luka's nose curled, frustrated Edain hadn’t yet broken the stare.

  “See? He agrees,” Edain added with a grin.

  Lyndon exhaled slowly, then shook his head. “You’re all insane.”

  “Never claimed otherwise,” Bran quipped, smiling wanly.

  “Fine,” Lyndon said at last. “You get a few more hours. If anything—and I mean anything—goes wrong, you alert the tower immediately.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Edain chirped.

  Lyndon gave her a long look before turning on his heel, muttering under his breath about lunatics and knights with no sense of self-preservation.

  As the door shut behind him, Luka’s head whipped towards the sound. Then, realizing he broke the stare, he made a strangled sound of protest and turned his glare on Edain again.

  She grinned. “What? Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who started the contest. But I’ll go round two.”

  He blinked, then huffed softly, stuffing the last of his breakfast into his mouth.