She knew not how to answer, nor even what he meant by it. She only wanted to dispel this mood. She pushed aside her puzzlement that her mother had said such a thing to him. It conjured up a vague hurt, a resentment she didn’t want to think about now. “Sit you still and the arm shall be set,” she said roughly, wanting to be free of the trap he set with his look, his words.

He took the thick leather and held it, watching with amused expectation as she felt his shoulder through the thick vest. Better to have it off, but she did not wish to see him unarmored and vulnerable again, as he had been in his fever.

The scar above his eye was a fine twisting of flesh highlighted by the flickering shadow of the fire, more pitiful when seen up close. He smelled of peat smoke and the sweat of exertion, of leather and mud and more. She raised her leg and placed her knee against his chest, pressing him against the tree at his back and moderating her own uneven breath. She had done a shoulder before, at least. She thought she could do it again. The bones felt uncomplicated enough. Best to have it done quickly.

“It will hurt,” she told him, though he deserved no such warning. It was that scar on his brow, and the hidden azure of his eyes appearing from the dark depths of his lashes, that made her wish briefly that she could spare him this.

“More of your woman’s comfort?” he asked.

At this reminder of his insults, an anger flashed through her. Even the curl of his lip was designed for striking with a heavy fist, nearly as much as his eyes begged to be spat in. But she reminded herself that she was healer now, not soldier, as she gentled her hands on his arm and pressed her knee firmly on his chest. Then he spoke. “I confess I did not think you to mount me so soon, and with–”

His words cut off when she slid the bone swiftly and firmly, out and down and up again, without warning. Her own belly quivered as the bone moved, the pain in her injured thigh throbbing as her muscles tightened to hold him fast against the tree. She watched anxiously as Morency’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a loud grunt instead of the shout she had expected. He was no stranger to pain. The sweat had barely formed on his brow when she was done. A quick, neat job. Luck again, she thought.