Although Lukas crossed her mind occasionally that day, on the whole Clara was far too busy to give him much thought. Between administering the valdir and using her own powers to help the sick, she scarcely had a free second to eat, let alone ponder the mysterious Maharian. Her work was rewarding though, and she saw with relief that the valdir was doing its job. It appeared there would be no more fatalities from this plague, provided she continued her careful observation and care. By the time she'd seen to the last baby, the sun was nearing the horizon, and as she stood, her weary body complained and she wondered what had possessed her to offer to return to the Maharian that night. She briefly considered reneging on her promise, but the healer in her balked at the idea, and if she was being completely honest, she had a strange longing to see him again.
As she neared the woods, she wondered if Lukas would still be waiting. Perhaps she was foolish to trust the word of a Maharian, and her effort tonight would be nothing more than a fool's errand. Perhaps, but she did not believe it. Something about his promise rang true, and she believed that though he might be a bit of a bounder, when he gave his word he meant it. Why she felt this way, she could not say.
You like him.
The thought sprang up unbidden, and she was quick to brush it aside, dismissing it as the product of her overtired body. Healers had no time for such folderol as romance, and if she did it certainly wouldn't be with that arrogant Maharian! A fellow healer, perhaps. In her training, she had grown rather close to one of her fellow students, a boy named Thomas. There were very few male healers, but he was one. They had been the same age, and so thrown together often by their teachers. She mused over the memory as she entered the woods and made her way to the clearing.
Thomas had already been there when she had been brought to the temple for training, though only by a few weeks. At first, he had been an insufferable know-it-all, boasting about his skills and being rather bossy to Clara, as if she were far younger than him. Her quick aptitude and eagerness to learn soon saw her surpassing him, and though he was a bit put out at first, he eventually came to respect and admire her skills. Within 6 months they were friends, and by the end of their first year they were nearly inseparable. Clara had felt very warmly toward him, though as they neared the end of their group training and prepared to go their separate ways for apprenticeships, Thomas had made a declaration of love for her.
Clara had promptly discouraged him, reminding him of the long years of training and separation still ahead of them. Thomas had persisted, claiming time and distance were immaterial to such a love as his. Though Clara loved him very much, it was not with the passionate fervor that Thomas displayed, and she refused his advances. Thomas promised that he would always love her, and held to it until they were separated for their apprenticeships. They had kept in touch initially through letters, though there were long gaps in between; healers were hard to stake down to a specific location.
Eventually the letters became even more scarce, and now Clara heard only about Thomas through fellow Healers she happened to meet on the road. Still, she'd always imagined when she was ready to settle down, if she ever was, that it would be with someone like Thomas - stable, strong, and perfectly able to understand the demands on a Healer's time. The few Healers who had married outside their own ranks almost all seemed to have troubled marriages. Their husbands, who at first had been captivated by their wives' powers and abilities quickly became jealous of the time spent away from them on others. Very few were understanding enough to cope with what marriage to a Healer really meant.
It was said that Queen Amelia had initially been sent to Healer training, but after meeting then-Prince Roderick, she had forsaken her training, ignored her gifts, and become his wife. It was only rumors, and none of Clara's teachers would confirm or deny the truth of the matter. Clara could not imagine turning her back on her powers, they were such a strong part of her. They were ingrained in every fiber of her being, and she might just as well decide to stop breathing air as to stop using her powers. All her teachers had said her gift was exceptionally strong, but even if it had been less powerful she believed it would be painful to ignore it. How Queen Amelia must have suffered! Of course, the Queen's troubles had been over for many years now, and more was the pity, for perhaps her Healer's heart would have guided her to influence her husband against the war.
"Red."
Clara jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Lukas slunk out from behind a tree, giving her a little half-smile.
"I didn't think you would really come." He seemed genuinely pleased, and Clara felt a warm little tingle at giving him pleasure.
"A Healer always keeps her word," she said simply, betraying none of her nervousness over seeing him again.
"And alone, too. I'm a little impressed."
"Well," said Clara with a little toss of her head, "You don't know about the alone part. I might have an entire Lotharisian squadron behind me, closing in on you."
"I've been following you almost since you entered to forest. If you had another person following you, let alone a squadron, I'd know." He stared her down and Clara felt quite unnerved. She'd had no clue that he was there; he must have moved very quietly indeed.
"Then let's get down to business," she said brusquely, to hide her surprise. "If you would be so good as to remove your shirt, I'll examine you."
Lukas grinned broadly and made an elaborate show of setting down his weapon and pack, and very slowly pulled his shirt over his head. Clara tried to be professional and not gawk like a love-struck school girl at his firm, bronze body. His muscle definition was visible beneath his skin, at least until it came to his chest, which was slightly obscured beneath his curly chest hair. His arms were large, but not bulging, and his trousers hugged against his hips in a way that made something inside her ache a little bit. She'd seen plenty of undressed men before, some completely nude - Healers saw all - so why should this man with only his shirt off be affecting her so? She moved toward him hastily, zoning in on his wound. Somehow on him, the slight imperfection only increased his visual appeal.
"You see these red marks around the wound," she said, her finger gently tracing the edges, "If you had listened to me this morning and spent the day resting, they would not be here. You might even be nearly healed by now." His stomach was warm under her touch, and she knew it wasn't just the energy the wound was giving off as the healing process made it knit itself back together again. The night had grown a little chilly and she relished his warmth against her fingers. "It seems to be coming along nicely, though. I'll just check for any signs of infection." She pressed her hand against him and
felt
, though she doubted she'd find anything. She'd purified it the first time she'd touched it. Still, it was nice to be touching him, and by the way he was smiling down at her he didn't mind much either.
"Are you always so hands-on, little Healer?" he asked.
"I have to touch to get a sense of the injuries, and without touching, I cannot heal. The power flows through me, out through my hands. I have heard legendary tales of the Healers of old, who could heal without touch, but if the tales are true, those powers have long since been lost to us." She continued her magical probing at his wound, for there was no sense in having him get an infection just because of her hubris. After all, he had been traipsing through the underbrush this morning, and doing who-knows-what after she'd left him. A little bit of sensing and probing was such a trivial drain on her powers that she did not fear a repeat of the blackout incident of the night before.
"Your hands are extra sensitive then? Or are they merely a conduit for the powers?" Lukas seemed genuinely curious.
"A conduit," said Clara, still probing. "I need my hands, but I'm afraid that there is nothing special about them, other than being attached to a Healer, of course." Satisfied that the wound was clean, if a little aggravated after his non-Healer-prescribed activities, she removed her hand. She was slightly disappointed that the search had turned up nothing, for it would have given her a valid excuse to lay hands on him longer.
