Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 393

ARIA

"She has a pattern," Nina said, with the serenity of someone who'd been paying attention. "She ends up in corridors when she's processing things. If she's not in the examination area and she's not in your quarters, she's in a corridor somewhere nearby."

A silence.

"She's going to have heard some of this," he said.

"Probably most of it," Nina said. "She's been standing around that corner for the last four minutes."

I closed my eyes briefly.

"Good night, Kael," Nina said.

I heard her footsteps, decisive and unhurried, going in the opposite direction. Then, after a pause of several seconds, footsteps coming around the corner toward me. I opened my eyes and looked at the wall across from me, which was a perfectly ordinary wall, and pretended to have been standing in the corridor for completely unrelated reasons.

Kael came around the corner and saw me.

"Nina said you were here," he said.

"She has a pattern comment," I said. "About corridors. It was very specific."

"Nina is very specific," he said. He looked at me for a moment — at the dressed forearm, at the shoulder he couldn't see but knew about. "How are you feeling."

"Like someone who was trained by Ivory for an hour and then survived an ambush," I said. "Which is to say adequately."

"Come on," he said. "Our quarters."

---

The pack grounds were quiet in the way of late night — not empty, the perimeter patrols were active and there were lights in several of the working buildings, but the quality of the activity was different. The nighttime version of Shadowmere's functioning, which had its own rhythm.

We walked through it without talking. Not the uncomfortable silence of things unsaid but the functional silence of two people covering distance at the end of a long day. My forearm had stopped stinging and moved into the steady settled ache that meant the wound was doing what wounds did when properly cleaned and dressed. The shoulder bruise had warmed up in the way of bruises in their early stages, announcing itself with more confidence now that the adrenaline had finished leaving.

The quarters were as I'd left them that morning, which felt like a long time ago. The lamp was on at the low setting — someone had set it that way, probably the domestic staff who maintained the rooms, the Shadowmere instinct for making a space feel occupied and ready.

Kael closed the door. Looked at me with the same assessing quality he'd had in the training flat.

"Sit," he said. Not commanding — offering. The kind of sit that came with someone intending to be useful.

I sat on the edge of the chair near the window. He went to the cabinet where the first aid materials lived and came back with things I recognized from my own recent training-related collections — a second cleaning salve, the kind that worked better than the basic one for bruising, a set of cloths, the specific ointment that reduced swelling in muscle tissue.

He sat on the low table in front of me and reached for my forearm. Examining the dressing without removing it — checking it the way someone did when they were verifying rather than redoing.

"The clinic healer did this properly," he said. "You don't need to re-dress it tonight."

"I know," I said. "I watched her do it."

"The shoulder," he said.

I moved the collar of my shirt enough to show the bruise that had developed — visible now, the color of it in the early stages, spreading across the point of impact.

He applied the ointment with the careful hands of someone who'd learned to do this without it being a medical training — the practitioner of necessity, the Alpha who'd been in enough situations to know how to treat the things that didn't require a healer.

"Ivory held back," he said.

"I know," I said. "I could feel it. She was giving me enough to work with — enough that I had to actually respond, not so much that I couldn't respond at all."

"And still," he said, indicating the bruise.

"I was barely keeping up," I said honestly. "She's—" I searched for the right framing. "She moves like she knows what she's going to do four steps before she does it. And she knows what you're going to do four steps before you do it."

"Yes," he said.

"I wasn't prepared for how much faster she was when she wasn't standing in a clinical context," I said.

Kael smoothed the ointment and sat back slightly, still looking at the bruise with the expression of someone doing their own assessment.

"Ivory," he said, and the word carried everything he didn't say after it.

"The blade was flat," I said. "And she pulled the contact. I barely felt it in the moment."

"The bruise is—"

"Will be gone by tomorrow evening," I said.

He looked at me.

"She told me," I said. "Minor scratches, her words. She said they'd heal before tomorrow evening."

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Ivory once treated a visiting Luna who had humiliated Nina during a coalition meeting." He said it with the level tone of someone reporting a historical fact.

I waited.

"The Luna was visiting for three days," he said. "She left with a broken hand and a leg brace."

I looked at him. "What happened to cause—"

"Treatment-related complications," he said. "All properly documented. The healer expressed significant regret about each development as it occurred."

I processed this.

"The healing," I said carefully. "Made things worse rather than better."

"The healing," he said, with the same level tone, "was conducted with complete professional competence and the outcomes were accurately described as within the range of possible results for the procedures performed."

"Within the range," I said.

"The outermost possible edge of the range," he said. "But within it."

I looked at the ointment on my shoulder. The dressed forearm. The careful professional treatment I'd received from a clinic healer who was trained by and worked under Ivory, who had looked at my injury with the expression of someone who felt it should have been more significant.