"A jagged cut, not from a blade." She squinted her eyes pensively as she looked at the wound. "It hasn't come down to the bone but it's still quite deep."
"What was it made with?"
A rather large splinter was embedded in the raw, inflamed flesh. The Su'Adrit took needle pincers and gave them to the Grand Matron. "Wood. A broken plank, I suppose."
"Hold the arm." The older woman moved aside so the princess could take a seat on the bench, placing both thumbs on either side of the cut to hold it open. "I'll remove the splinters. Bite this."
She held a cut of leather to the peasant's mouth, who immediately latched onto it, face red with strain and pain.
Together, they began the painstaking task of clearing the wound of all foreign bodies to clean it. Verinia assisted grimly, readying a needle with kasha thread to close the wound once it was clean.
"Please fetch me the orid spit and a rubarb poultice, Serenity." Grand Matron Lora began to press the sides of the wound together and place the mouth of the fastener over it. She pierced the inner flesh of the wound with the needle, producing a loud, immediate shout from the peasant as the soft fibres of the kasha thread pulled through the flesh to hold his skin together.
The princess hurried out to complete her task and quickly went toward the medical building of the compound that was nearby. Although there were medicinal ingredients in the tent, she needed another ingredient to make the poultice which would be found in the cooler conditions inside of the sandstone building.
She removed her handskins and placed them in the pocket of her apron, then approached the storage room where shelves upon shelves were filled to the brim with all types of common plants.
Bottles and more bottles, some with corks, some with screws, others with cloth and string to cover their mouths, sat beside each other. They held powders, potions, tinctures, draughts and syrups, but she couldn't find the orid spit.
The milky white slime was usually kept in a bottle with a tight screw and was difficult to miss amongst the seas of brightly coloured tonics and things. It was one of the first things she'd learned to distinguish, after all.
With a frown, she took the rubarb root powder and placed some in a small mortar. She also plucked some dried mint leaves from a jar and some fresh, yellow petals from another. Lastly, salt and oil of the scaramere tree, which was known for its cleansing properties and was by far the most difficult ingredient to preserve as it would turn rancid under heat very quickly.
She'd just began to grind it all when the bottle of orid spit made its grand appearance before her very eyes. If the colour of the foully odorous slime was to be mistaken, then the large, bold marking of the orid plant on the glass of the bottle wasn't.
"Su'Adrit."
Verinia nearly dropped the pestle in her hand from fright.
A fair hand with well-defined fingers swiftly caught the tool and graciously returned the it to the mortar before the rest of a tall body came into Verinia's line of sight.
Unmarred blue and molten gold locked onto each other in a stunned moment of appreciation. Those blue eyes especially were shameless in their scrutiny.
The princess's full lips parted in surprise, revealing a hint of her pearly teeth. They were pink, soft-looking, like rose petals in their season. Her eyes, bright and watery, gave one the impression of an other-worldly innocence when looking at her face. Her unblemished skin sparkled like jewels all the way down to the gentle rise of her collarbones where her dress rose.
The man turned his gaze away before he subjected the beautiful young woman to an impropriety that was not befitting someone of her station. As it stood, just being alone with her in the room was a capital crime.
He cleared his throat to dispel the extended silence that had begun to blanket them both.
"Thank you." Verinia's face slowly returned to its usual placid expression. Thanking others was beneath her, something that usually was not heard from the mouth of sovereigns, but it was also a habit she had cultivated liberally.
"No need," he said in an accented murmur. "Forgive my imprudence, Your Sovereign Highness."
The same strange man stared at her hands and arms with a fixed fascination. Even in the dimmed light of the room, her skin attracted attention.
Her daily ritual of bathing in water infused with nyera frost caused small ices to form and cling to her body, which would stay there unless she forced them off her skin.
The man didn't dare to say what he wanted to say as he stared at her, but there was curiosity swimming in the pools of his eyes,
Verinia wanted to feel uncomfortable. Staring was already rude, but staring at a member of the sovereign family was enough to have one's eyes gouged out of their heads.
She wanted to remind the man of this, but instead she kept silent. It was not worth offending an ally court over such a small matter. He was doing her no harm, and she was sure that his insistent looking was merely a product of curiosity and nothing more.
To cover up her awkwardness, she returned to making the poultice. The ingredients were almost ready and she pressed down the pestle to make a thick, yellow paste.
As she reached for the thick gauze to set the paste, she noticed that he was still unashamedly staring at her. "What happened with the orid spit?"
"A cook suffered a burn with a pot. I was sent to fetch it."
The space between the princess's dark, shapely eyebrows produced such a heartbreaking furrow that it stirred the soul of anyone who saw it with deep, unquestionable sympathy.
As he watched her, the man developed something of a fierce fixation. The First Princess of New Oalta was not fair as peerless jade, nor was she so slender that the wind might blow her away like the petals of tree peonies—the ideal of feminine beauty in Ginzai.
Her ink-black hair did not contrast sharply with snow-white skin, but instead combined with her tan tone in a gentle harmony to bring out the striking sunshine of her eyes. The white silk of her exquisite dress only highlighted these features as the skirt draped from the curves of her waist, providing an air of gorgeous refinement that commanded both attention and reverence.
She was naturally eye-catching, and her beauty was such that could not be compared to anything he had ever seen in his home, but even when her appearance made people look at her, it was as if one was staring at a spirit from another realm. This feeling had nothing to do with the fact that she literally glimmered like the purest jewel in the light.
It was the sharpness with which she looked at him that made him feel that she was not entirely mortal.
That gaze contained both danger and purity, as if she were unknowledgeable about the ways of the world while being completely capable of ending it.
Who… who was the Su'Adrit of New Oalta?