Page 42 of For the Strange and Surprising

“Become a doctor?” he finishes. “Hands-on training. We don’t have schools of medicine, Ada. We have journals written by the doctors before us, and we have mentors. That’s how we pass knowledge from one generation to the next when it comes to our professions.”

Imryll twists his head to peer at me.

“I was fifteen when Selmar started mentoring me, but I chose my job with great care.”

“Why so young?”

He smiles fondly, though there’s a sadness behind it.

“My parents and I were attacked as we were returning from a day on the coast. I was able to run for help, and they were brought back to the clinic, but they were severely injured. It was too much for only two doctors to contain. I tried to assist where I could; I didn’t know enough to be of use, though.

“When they died, Isolde took me in. Instead of waiting to join the guard to fight, I chose to learn what I didn’t know. I wanted to heal, to prevent other Mongrel children from losing their parents too. It took the queen to convince Selmar of my conviction, but I haven’t regretted my decision.”

“Even on the shitty days?” I grimace. “Sorry. Ignore that question.”

He chuckles as he opens the door to the clinic for me. “Even on the shitty days. What did you do on Earth?”

“I was an athlete, and until a few months ago, a college student. I dropped out of my last semester of school to work more. My dad needed financial help, but he refused to ask for it. He would tell me that my sister was his burden to bear, not mine. I just couldn’t let him struggle alone.”

Why am I telling him this?

“Your sister had an ailment or a sickness of some sort?”

“Some people refer to addiction as a disorder. I thought there was a gray area there.” I shrug, following him into an exam room.

He glances at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Usually, it would piss me off to talk about her, though this feels more like lifting a weight off my shoulders.

“Penny had been experimenting with drugs since she was a teen, jumping from one substance to another. She would go to a rehabilitation facility for a few weeks, then come home, but she didn’t want to change.

“She called her stints in rehab palette cleansers, meaning she could flush her system of the toxins and the tolerance she’d built up when using them. Then she could take one pill instead of a handful.

“It would be two or three weeks, sometimes a matter of days, before she started the same destructive behavior again. And then we would have to begin the process over.”

He stops what he’s doing and turns to face me. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It wasn’t easy to witness,” I quietly confess. “I think it’s worse when they aren’t just harming themselves but everyone around them, too. She made it difficult to be the bigger person.”

Imryll nods thoughtfully as he watches me.

“Let me see your arm.”

I smile at the subject change. I’m relieved that he doesn’t have any more questions. I know they’ll come, but for today, I want to be done talking about that part of my past.

I hold my right arm out for him to view the pink scar. It’s completely healed, though the tissue is thick and raised against my surrounding skin. He rubs his thumb across it before his eyes flick to me.

“No tugging? No sensitivity?”

I lightly laugh, answering that same way I did days ago. “Nothing.”

“I still wish you would have let me stitch it up,” he mumbles.

“This is fine. It would have scarred either way. Now it has some character to it. And the crab berry stuff wasn’t awful. It stung like hell for the first few minutes, but I didn’t notice it after that.”

“At all? You didn’t tell me that when I visited.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Once it was wrapped, it was out of sight and out of mind. I only pay attention to it now because I can see it.”

“Then I suppose there’s no reason for me to worry.”