"Lights above, woman, let me in!"

"No."

Sedgewick clenched his fists to restrain himself from pitching the woman over his shoulder and slamming the door to Feyla's room open himself. Healer Delia Morrowbryn, as she had introduced herself, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she blocked Sedgewick's entrance to the one place in the world he was most desperate to be. "She's resting," the healer stated firmly.

"I need to see her. Has she even been checked for curses? Or were you too busy letting her get blasted at to bother?"

Morrowbryn's ear twitched as her round jaw clamped tighter. She ignored the last part of his remark. "And my mother 'needs' me and my husband to have a child now, but it looks like neither of you are going to get what you're whining for."

Sedgewick's face reddened to match his hair. He was seconds away from releasing a tirade that Feyla would have scolded him for when one of his favorite sounds in the world drifted through the door, muffled and weak.

"Sedgewick?" Feyla called out, her voice drowsy like she'd been dreaming.

Sedgewick pushed past Morrowbryn before the woman could say she'd dreamt he was here. He threw open the door and instantly felt the waves of worry and panic that had been pounding against him since the news of Feyla had arrived recede like a tide. Feyla sat propped up in her bed, the sun shining down on her yellow coverlet and matching hair. A clean white bandage stood out against the tawny brown skin of her arm.

"I knew it was you!" Feyla exclaimed, her face brightening like she'd been longing to see him as much as he had her.

Sedgewick dropped to his knees beside her and dug his nails into the white wood of her bed. He wanted to grab her hand and feel the life in her humming beneath her skin. He itched to run his fingers through her soft, sweet-smelling hair before nuzzling against her like his cat and listening for the sound of her heartbeat.

But mostly he wanted Morrowbryn to stop drilling her stare into the back of his head and leave them alone.

"Gates, I'm sorry, Dearest," he said, pointedly avoiding turning around to the irritable healer. "I left as soon as I heard, but they had already carried you off and then I got dragged into undoing any rune discs that survived the fire."

"Watch your language," she murmured, more of a comforting habit than an actual admonishment. "And I understand."

Morrowbryn snorted behind him, making it clear that she didn't. Feyla's ears perked up as she finally stopped staring at him. "I guess you two have already met." She laughed softly. "Sorry about the bad introduction."

"I didn't really need one anyway," the healer cut in as she stepped closer. "His reputation speaks for itself."

The smile Sedgewick had been giving to Feyla dropped at Morrowbryn's words. Several biting retorts jumped to the tip of his tongue. Sedgewick glanced over at Feyla to find her biting her lip as if she could bite back his words for him. "I...suppose that would depend on where one gathered my 'reputation'."

Feyla squirmed as if she would like nothing better than to jump in between the tension that had risen between the two and wave it away like smoke. "Well, if it's okay, I'd like to do introductions anyway. Sedgewick, this is Delia. We were apprenticed at the same healing house. She's an old friend."

Feyla took his hand, and Sedgewick's chest tingled as a now-familiar thrill ran through him. "And Delia, this is Sedgewick. We're courting," she said, giving him that look he loved. The one where her eyes softened from a deep sea to a smooth lake while her ears turned pink like she was looking at someone much more worthy of her affection than him.

Gates, why couldn't she have just eaten midmeal with him instead?

Morrowbryn's lips pursed, but she kept her probably less-than-complimentary thoughts to herself and simply skipped over the rest of the formalities. She brushed Sedgewick aside, forcing him to release Feyla's hand so the woman could open the shutters on the window above Feyla's bed. "We got to the wound in time to use a healing spell, so I'm expecting a quick recovery. Don't let me down," she added, smiling at her friend.

Sedgewick stood from where he'd been kneeling. He rubbed his now-empty fingers together and kept his mouth clamped shut, choosing instead to nod along in understanding. He wasn't well-versed in healing spells—healers didn't particularly like letting their trade secrets outside the guild—but it was a common fact that magic was most effective on new wounds. "What I would like to know is how that man managed to get to her in the first place."

"That's probably something I should answer," Feyla said, twisting around so she could keep both of them in view.

"Do you make a habit of letting in dangerous men run rampant among your patients?" Sedgewick asked. He did want to hear what had happened with Feyla, but why her attacker was there to begin with had been gnawing at his brain all day.

"The healing house is open to all who need help," Morrowbryn insisted, her ears flattening against her head. "He came in complaining of a persisting headache." She moved to the other side of the room and jerked open the second window's shutters. "And slipped away when he should have been waiting."

"How convenient."

"Sedgewick!" Feyla exclaimed, her lovely chest rising at his words.

"You could have died, Feyla!" he shot back, finally setting his unspoken nightmare free.

"That's not Delia's fault!"

"Feyla's right." Morrowbryn stalked up to Sedgewick and jabbed a finger down at his face. "If anything, this is your fault."

Anger shot through Sedgewick like a lightning spell. Every thought and word he'd painstakingly kept to himself became charged, loaded like arrows on the tip of his tongue. The healers guild's incompetence had nearly forced him to bury another woman he loved and this woman thought he was to blame? "My fault? My fault?" Sedgewick asked as his voice dipped low.

"Sedgewick—" Feyla tried to cut in, her voice rising two octaves the way it always did when she realized he was about to make another enemy.

"You mages act like we couldn't survive without you but when it gets down to it—"

"When it gets down to it, I will be the one who catches that gates-blasted wizard." Sedgewick twisted his wrist and raised his hand near his face. Orange magic crackled at his fingertips. "And when I find him—and be most certain of this, Madam, I will find him—I will make him regret that I found him. And when I am done, your guild will be left to patch up his pieces." He dropped his hand and dismissed his magic. "A fitting end considering I'll be cleaning up your mess."

"You'll be cleaning up your own mess," Morrowbryn sneered. "Wizards are born from mages. You create the monsters you claim to protect us from."

"Do ignorant remarks come naturally to you or do you rehearse them beforehand?"

"Oh, you really are just as much of an ass as everyone says. Feyla, do you hear what he's—"

Apparently, Feyla had heard both of them because he and Morrowbryn were cut off by a pillow thrown straight at their faces.

Said pillow flopped on the floor sadly, its fraying pink tassels curling up as if to avoid the elaborate but faded rug on the floor. Sedgewick plucked it up and dusted it off. He and Morrowbryn shared a brief look as an unspoken truce passed between them.

"I was hoping you two would like each other." Feyla sank back into her now-short-one-pillow bed. She sighed, her ears dipping low. "Please...stop fighting. It's making my head hurt."

Morrowbryn slid the pillow out of Sedgewick's arms and placed it back under Feyla. "You have to rest. We'll go." She shot Sedgewick a glare that dared him to disagree.

Feyla sat up like she'd just remembered something. "But I need to—"

"Rest! It's good for you." The healer grabbed Sedgewick's sleeve and tried to drag him out the door with her.

Sedgewick let the stubborn woman tug him out of the room. He gave Feyla a knowing wink that turned her furrowed brow into a lip-biting blush. Morrowbryn kept a vice grip on the sleeve of his coat until they'd reached Feyla's front door. She jerked it open before spinning around and finally releasing him. "Now I'm only going to say this once—"

"Actually, you won't be saying it at all." Sedgewick shoved her out the door and slammed it in her face. He slid the lock shut and chuckled at the shriek of outrage from behind it.

Dusting his hands off from the bothersome woman, he sauntered back into Feyla's room. She obviously wanted to tell him something and it was high time he got some answers.

...And maybe some kisses.