The Best Kind

Cocking her head to one side, Rose followed to where the hood seemed to be transfixed. Her gaze found the dark red blotch. It lay in stark contrast to the delicate honey-colored satin.

'Well, this is awkward.' She cringed.

Now that the princess was certain of the man's identity, she had hoped to put up a more dignified appearance in front of the legend. A large bloody stain tended to ruin the effect.

'Oh well, just be yourself. He does not seem like he cares about all that nonsense anyway.'

"You're hurt!" Silver said finally. The shock of seeing her bloodied gown had rendered him temporarily mute. Mentally he beat himself over the head. 'How did you not notice before?! Sage is right, you lack all the qualities of a gentleman.'

The Guardian had fallen prey to a trick he often used: a person saw only what they were expecting to see, and he had no expectation of viewing an injured royal. Rose had been hiding her hand in her dress, but now she lifted it slowly for him to see with an apologetic smile.

It was bandaged poorly, and there was a stain of red peeking through. The sight only made Silver more alert.

"How did this happen? Did the soldiers do this?" The man's anger mixed with concern touched Rose's heart.

She held up her other hand to stop the flow of questions.

The blonde then motioned to the cut and shook her head. "No, I'm afraid this happened when I took the blade from you. I have not had a lot of practice with anything sharper than a butter knife." She shrugged and tossed her head, a self-depreciating and very un-princesslike gesture.

Silver stiffened. "THIS IS MY FAULT!?" he cried. His own hand came swiftly to his mouth, disappearing partially into the hood. Rose shushed him gently and chuckled.

Although there were two doors—Silver having closed the bedroom door when he entered— and a sitting room between them and the soldiers on guard, a raised male voice could still carry and would arouse suspicion.

The Guardian continued in a hushed tone, "If I hadn't taken the knife, you would have had no reason to return it."

'You have a knack for getting people injured with knives,' he thought grimly. It was a true.

Once when Ethyn was young and tied to a tree with his mentor, Silver had encouraged the boy to retrieve a hidden knife from his boot. The knife had sliced through Ethyn's foot and nearly killed him. Just a short while later, the lady Sage had been mortally stabbed when she attempted to stop Silver's beheading. If not for the Fate Hanna, both he and Sage would have met the Maker too soon.

Rose refused his assertion and answered him gently. "You cannot blame yourself. Had you not taken it, I probably would have tried to use the knife and ended up worse than this. It's just a scratch really."

The princess waved the injured hand casually, her wince betraying her pain.

Immediately Silver was at her side and unwrapping the wound. At first Rose was startled by his action. He had not asked permission. But then the princess found she was relieved at his presumption.

Likely she would have refused him on principle, yet Rose actually wanted to know his assessment of her injury. When the last piece of cloth was pulled free with a gentle tug, the cut stung as fresh air caressed the torn skin. Rose sucked in her breath.

Much of the blood was dried and streaked, but some was still fresh, especially now that the cloth had disrupted the forming scab. The injury itself was angry and the smooth edge of the slice was colored a deep crimson.

"Well?" the princess asked, awaiting his assessment.

"It is not life threatening." Silver said slowly. Rose could see there was more to his thought. "But it does need to be tended to," he added. "You probably need it stitched up."

"That is going to cause some uncomfortable questions tomorrow when I go to the healers." Already she began forming her excuse.

The Guardian's shoulders slumped. He hated that his choices had caused her harm. "Forgive me. I should never have put you in this position. Is it painful?"

It was strange to hear him apologize. People were bowing and begging the princess's pardon often, but the words usually felt empty, fearful, or insincere. She was taken aback by the tenderness in his tone and found herself reaching across and patting him gently with her uninjured hand.

"As you said it is not life threatening, and I can manage the pain." Rose comforted him. She went on in a more playful tone, "And you have a lot of nerve thinking you can claim all the credit for the mess we are in! I assure you I can find trouble all on my own."

Silver shook his head. Her stubborn kindness only made him feel guiltier. 'You better fix this,' he told himself. His lips pulled tight as he reached a decision.

"Do you trust me?" he asked abruptly.

It was a ludicrous question on the face of it. The Guardian had broken into her room and held her captive. The whole castle was searching for him, a dangerous intruder.

"I mean, I really shouldn't…" And yet, Rose found herself nodding that indeed she trusted him, and the princess was sincere.

From a pouch in his leather belt, Silver pulled a glowing vial. Rose's eyelids closed to a slit as she took in the ball of light. The swirling glow inside the container seemed alive. The restless churning of the liquid cast a strange pattern resembling passing clouds on the walls around them. Rose was mesmerized.

At last, she tore away her gaze and looked at the man, a question visible on her face. The hooded figure secured her hand in his.

"Hold your hand still and whatever you do, please don't panic and cry out. Hold a pillow to your face if you must."

"Will it hurt that much?" Rose asked anxiously.

"I hope not," the Guardian answered quietly.

With experience, Silver had discovered that the worse the wound, the more painful the reaction from the elixir. When he had used it on Ethyn as a boy after he cut his foot, the ten-year-old screamed like he was being tortured. Thankfully Ethyn was only semi-conscious at the time and had little memory of the event.

More minor wounds, like when he used it on Sage's burned hand, seemed to illicit only a tingle. Silver guessed Rose would be somewhere in between.

Hanna had warned him not to allow anyone to ingest the liquid light, and he knew firsthand why this warning was necessary. His youthful looks and heightened senses were testament to the side effects of such an action, and the experience itself had nearly ripped him apart.

With all the gentleness he possessed, the Guardian uncorked the vial with his teeth. Steadily, he allowed a single drop to fall from the rim of the glass container.

Watching the glowing droplet fall freely to her hand, Rose had second thoughts. She hadn't asked any more questions about what would happen, and the thought of pain that was greater than what she was feeling now made her begin to panic.

The lady jerked her hand away, but Silver had it firmly in his grasp. As a result, the drop landed exactly on its target, the center of the cut. For a moment nothing happened as both parties held their breath.

Then Rose cried out sharply before biting her lip. The new pain had been so sudden and sharp that she had been unable to stifle her outburst.

All at once, it felt as if a thousand needles were plunging into her injured hand, stitching the injured tissue. The agony brought tears to Rose's clear blue eyes.

The cut itself began to glow dimly at first like an ember. But it grew until a blinding light filled the room and just as it felt like the world would be drown in its radiance, the flash disappeared as if it had never been.

When their vision cleared, both Rose and Silver leaned over to examine her hand, bumping heads clumsily as they did so.

"Remarkable!" was all the princess could say. Her hand was smooth and perfect, the gash gone without a trace of scarring. "What is that elixir?"

Silver carefully recorked the bottle—the cork appearing from the void beneath his hood as he spit it into his hand—and placed it back into the leather pouch at his waist.

The pleasure in his voice was evident as he answered. "I wish I could tell you. It was a gift, and it has been invaluable many times."

"What kind of friend gives a gift such as this?" the princess wondered aloud.

"The same kind who throws you off buildings to meet a lovely princess," the hooded figure answered, smiling. "The best kind."