After a while, the healer emerged from the back room with the finished mixture cradled in her hands. It had been reduced to a dense paste, dark and glossy, steeped with the sharp scent of crushed herbs.
Lucrezia failed to hide the way her face scrunched in disgust. It smelled terrible.
The healer's gaze dropped to her feet before lifting again. "I'll need you to remove the blanket," she said softly. "I have to apply this to your feet."
She didn't hesitate this time and nodded in compliance. Slowly and carefully, Lucrezia hooked her fingers to the edge of the fabric and pushed it downwards.
She sucked in a breath as the movement pulled her already stretched thin muscles, and the soreness radiated up her calves, into her knees. By the time the blanket slid clear, her feet were bare, and unmistakably injured.
