The Elven Healer’s Apprentice
Elves of Eldarlan Book 4
by Elisa Rae
Genre: Medieval Fantasy Romance
Merlon, the king of Eldarlan’s healer, hides his soft heart beneath a prickly exterior. Despite a traumatic childhood, he strives to excel as a healer and an elf. But he gets more than he bargained for when he rescues a human woman from certain death right before being snared in the curse put on the king of Eldarlan.
Left to fend for herself in an absent elf healer’s compound, Adela tries to be useful. The patients call her the healer’s apprentice. Something the healer rejects when he finally returns. Despite his grumpy manner, the healer displays a strange mixture of kindness and care. Intrigued, Adela suspects the healer hides more than he reveals.
The Elven Healer’s Apprentice is a light, fantasy romance novella about a romance between an elven healer and a human woman. It features a grumpy sunshine romance where opposites attract when they encounter forced proximity and jeopardy.
With a few words of Elvish, the magic in the room focused, swirling in gentle eddies. As the manufactured breeze urged the ground herb to consolidate, I turned my attention to the glass, which took more care.
“Why not use a broom?” she asked, distracting me. “A matter of moments, and I could scoop it from the floor and carry it out to the burn pile.”
“Not with those hands. They are going to require care for at least a day.”
“A day? Surely more.”
I glanced over at her to find her sadly regarding her torn-up palms. Even from where I stood, I noted the raw flesh, angry from the abuse it had received. The glass needed to be plucked out before I healed her.
A shard of glass fell to the floor, recalling me to my current task.
“No, be still. I need to concentrate,” I admonished more gruffly than I intended.
I couldn’t afford this delay. My clinic was in shambles, Lippin nowhere to be found, and my stores of herbs were sorely lacking. So much work lay ahead before I could even consider the effort of setting up my experiments again. She was a dangerous distraction.
Still, my hand tingled where it had touched her. I never had that kind of reaction to physical contact before. It was as if my senses had intensified. Yaron’s bitter taste had completely overwhelmed my mouth and nose. The experience had startled me. Instead of being repulsed, I was curious. So many questions came to mind. Ignoring her would take far more discipline than I wished, but I had to focus on the pressing matters of my supplies first.
I made quick work of the mess while she remained blessedly quiet. Then I took the yaron powder outside before incinerating it and dispelling the resulting smoke. Considering the strength of her reaction, the smoke would most likely set her off again.
After a few deep lungfuls of fresh air, I closed my eyes and soaked in the sun for a moment.
A soft cry of pain interrupted my moment of quiet. I turned my head to listen. A tiny feminine sob confirmed my initial assessment. She was digging the glass out herself.
“What do you think you are doing?” Bursting through the still room door, I angrily stormed across the room and plucked the tweezers from her shaking fingers. She regarded me with wide-eyed apprehension. Despite a twinge of regret, I glared at her. “I told you to wait.”
“But…” She sucked in a shaky breath before meeting my fury with a façade of bravery. Fear and pain mingled in her jade eyes, shaming me for my anger. Tears glistened behind her lashes. “I am capable of—”
I grabbed her left hand, the one she had been working on, and turned it palm up. Ignoring the acute sense of belonging that came over me when I touched her, I assessed the damage with clinical objectivity. About thirty shards of glass were embedded in the soft skin of her palm, and the tighter skin over her fingers was covered in tiny cuts. Thankfully, none of them appeared deep.
“Other hand,” I demanded.
She extended it, fingers trembling. “It isn’t as bad.”
“It wasn’t until you tried to use it,” I snapped as I pressed on the skin around the deepest and largest shard, pulling the flesh back from the glass. Her breath hitched with pain, but she made no other sound.
“Sorry, but this is going to hurt,” I muttered. Part of me wanted to shake her. The potential for her to do serious damage to her hands was so high. Irritation flared, compromising my professional objectivity. It was impossible to ignore her pain. Slapping a strong numbing spell on her hands, I picked up the tweezers and set to work, ignoring the distracting desire to comfort her.
**Don’t miss the other books in the series!**
The Elven Spymaster’s Thief
Elves of Eldarlan Book 1
The Shadow Elf’s Rescuer
Elves of Eldarlan Book 2
The Elf King’s Sacrifice
Elves of Eldarlan Book 3
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A reader of fairytales and folklore, Elisa Rae loves a happy ending. Noblebright characters, dastardly villains, and chemistry between characters delight her. When she isn’t writing, she loves to watch superhero movies and literary dramas.
Elisa Rae is the pen name of Rachel Rossano.