This scene happens as Brice is waking up from a fall from Darius' horse.
Pain! Waves of it washed over her and her head felt like it was going to explode. Brice slowly became aware of the rest of her body and rapidly regretted the discovery. Every bone and joint hurt.
“Brice.” A warm male voice tinged with an accent spoke from somewhere above her. Turning her head toward the sound, pain erupted behind her eyes. Taking a sharp breath of air, she realized yet another agony as her chest screamed at the motion. She must have cried out at the pain for the voice spoke again, “Hush, little bird, hush.” Large hands enclosed her ribs and began carefully outlining each with their fingertips. “No,” the man decided, “None are broken.”
“Brice.” One of the hands touched the side of her face. She had a strong feeling she knew the name of the man, but she was too tired to think now, too sleepy. “Brice,” the voice insisted. “Open your eyes.”
Slowly she obeyed and instantly regretted it. The world outside was bright and it increased the throbbing behind her eyes.
“Good,” the voice encouraged. “Now keep them open until the healer comes. That fall might have done some serious damage.” Ever so slowly, Brice focused her eyes on his face. Darius. She smiled. How could she have forgotten Darius? He loomed over her like a dark thundercloud. Her brain told her she should feel fear at being so helpless and at his mercy, but strangely, she did not.
“Brice.” Darius' voice interrupted her thoughts. “I need you to work with me.” She turned her head very slowly until she could meet his eyes. He was kneeling at her side. Once her eyes were on his face, he asked, “Can you move your legs?”
“I can feel them.” She closed her eyes, concentrated, and willed her legs to move. Pain shot up her left leg and her ankle throbbed, but they moved. “I think my ankle is twisted.”
“I brought the healer,” Ewian announced from the other side of the clearing.
Darius slowly rose from his knees and turned to greet the man still out of Brice's vision. “I have not moved her,” Darius informed the healer. “She has struck her head, bruised her ribs, and possibly sprained her ankle.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Darius?” A short older man came to stand at her side across from Darius. “I like my job and I cannot keep it if you keep diagnosing my patients. Now shoo.” Waving a hand at the two warriors, he looked down and smiled at her. Brice found herself smiling back despite the pounding in her head and the dull ache that hummed through the rest of her. “Now, you must be Brice. I am Kurt.”
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