Page 21 of Legacy Ascended

When she finishes, she checks my pulse at the wrist, makes me move my fingers, and watches the color return beneath each fingernail.

“The bullet went in here and came out here,” she says. “Your pulse is strong, your hand is warm, and nothing I can see or feel suggests it struck the joint or a major vessel. I don’t think it hit bone, but I don’t have an X-ray machine in my pocket, so somebody needs to confirm that.”

“And if they agree with you?”

“You’ll have an ugly scar, a miserable few weeks, and less movement in that shoulder until the muscle heals.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you’ll be very glad I sent you for the X-ray.”

"And the rest?"

"The flank's held better than it deserves to, given what you've done to it. Two of the dart sites are angry. Wrists like you've been in a trap. You're cold, you're dehydrated, and you haven't had enough to eat or drink today." She sits back on her heels. "Am I telling you anything you can't feel?"

"No."

"Then here's what happens next. I want a proper assessment and imaging, and I have neither in this valley. Your academy has both. Your professor tells me their infirmary is expecting you, and my notes go with you, including exactly what those people gave you and how much."

"Am I still drugged?"

"There'll be traces in you for a day or two. That isn't the same as impaired — your pupils are even, your speech is clean, and you've just given me a timeline in order with no gaps." She holds up a small vial. "I'd like to give you something for the pain that won't put you under. It'll take the edge off and you'll stay awake and able to argue with people. Do you want it?"

I think about it longer than I need to.

"Yes."

"Sensible." She does it into my good arm. "No shifting. Not for anything, not until somebody qualified says otherwise, and I'd like that to be at least two weeks."

"Ok."

Jon hasn't moved from the end of the vehicle, and he's asked her the same question three times in different words.

"You've already asked me that.” Doc doesn't look up. "Professor, you can hold the lamp or you can hold her hand. Either is useful. Pick one."

Jon picks the hand.

They set me up half in and half out of the back of the vehicle with a blanket round me and my legs hanging out, because Doc wants me upright and warm for twenty minutes before she'll sign me off for the drive.

Luke has been moving between calls since Doc started treating me. I watch him arrange the route, a bed, an X-ray tech willing to come in overnight, and somebody at the Luftis gate who can be trusted to open it without asking questions.

"Luke."

"One second—"

"Luke. Come and sit down."

He looks up. Then he says something short into the phone, puts it in his pocket, and comes and sits on the vehicle beside me, and takes my right hand in both of his, and turns it over like there might be something on the palm he's missed.

His hands aren't steady.

"Every time it went quiet," he says, "I thought you'd died."

I don't ask what he means and he doesn't explain it. I get my hand behind his neck and pull him down and kiss him, carefully, and Luke Draeven finally forgets about the phone in his pocket.

"There was a point," he says against my mouth, "on the north road—"

"I know."