Chapter 7: The Nurse Said Shut Up

Dante pushed his foot harder against the desk leg before it could slide any farther, keeping his grip above Miss Vale’s elbow. The woman in the cube wanted him in the chair shown inside it, and she was cutting Vale’s wrists to force him to agree.

"You aren’t taking either of us, so let her go," he told the cube, pulling until his shoulder hurt while the bands tightened. Miss Vale’s cuff darkened, and his attempt at sounding commanding barely carried over her sharp breath.

"Tell me how you opened the box at home," she said, breathing through the pressure on her wrists. He explained that he had pictured the catch moving without using any words, while Rhea called for a frame cutter outside.

Miss Vale spread the fingers of one trapped hand. Her fingertip drew a hooked blue line in the air, a small spell shape called a sigil. She was trying to cut a gap in the white band so she could pull her wrist free, but the pressure made her hand shake.

"Watch the edge," she said, and spoke the words for the smaller shape she had tried to finish. Dante watched a tiny space open in the white band. For a moment there was room between the light and her wrist; then her voice caught and the space closed.

Dante watched the gap close, then pictured it open again. He did not copy her drawing or try to repeat the Korean words. He imagined the result he had just seen, a break in the band wide enough for her wrist, and warmth spread through his fingertips.

The band opened while she stared at her wrist, telling him to do the same with the other one. He pictured the second gap as the warmth sharpened, and that band parted too, leaving her hands free.

With her hands free, Miss Vale tore a silver tab from beneath the cube. The light collapsed into the glass with a loud squeal. The white bands vanished, leaving her wrists bloody and her body clear of the desk.

Heat struck Dante’s fingertips, breaking his grip as he tried to step back and caught his foot against the desk leg. Miss Vale caught his elbow and grabbed the front of his shirt, bracing her hip against the desk while his forearm landed around her waist.

The damaged frame gave way just as he struggled to straighten, and Rhea pushed through with her shield raised. From the doorway, she found him bent over Miss Vale, his face near her open collar and her fist still holding his shirt against her chest.

Rhea’s cheeks went pink as her eyes dropped to his arm around Vale’s waist, and her shield dipped before she caught herself. "I heard you shouting, so I thought you were..." She stopped, apparently discovering that none of the possible endings helped.

"Nonsense, Rhea, that’s not what happened," Miss Vale said, keeping hold of Dante until he untangled his foot. "He tripped while helping me, and I’d appreciate you helping him before we both end up on the floor."

"She told me to pull harder," Dante offered, feeling his ears burn as Rhea looked at him again. He took his arm from Vale’s waist and tried to stand without touching anything else, although her blouse had already supplied details he would remember at a much less appropriate time.

"Perhaps stop explaining while we’re still dressed," Miss Vale said, letting go of his shirt once Rhea reached them. Rhea’s smile disappeared when she saw their hands, and she collected Vale’s phone from beside the darkened cube before moving him clear of the desk.

Dante shook his hand before he could stop himself, sending pain through the burned fingers. "Keep it still so I can see," Rhea said, supporting his wrist from beneath while he struggled to uncurl his hand.

Three pale blisters rose beside the assessment cut. Miss Vale accepted a dressing from a responder and pressed it against her bleeding wrist while warning them away from the damaged desk.

"Did I pass?" Dante asked. Rhea looked at the blood on the floor before answering. "You’re going to the medical wing." She supported his elbow through the corridor while students moved aside. A woman near the elevator stared at him long enough to walk into her friend’s bag, then apologized without looking away.

He wanted to enjoy the attention, but his fingers burned too much to appreciate his timing. In the medical wing, a nurse with cropped silver hair and a small tusk showing above her lower lip sat him beside a sink. She asked what hurt, listened to the answer, and cut off his attempt to explain the dramatic parts.

"The dramatic parts can wait until I know you can feel your fingertips." Rhea stood near the bed while the nurse cooled his hand. Without the rush, Dante noticed the strength in her shoulders beneath the fitted black shirt and the red tail curled neatly around her ankle to keep it out of the nurse’s way.

"Keep looking at your hand," she said, smiling when he claimed he was checking her for injuries. "My face is higher, if you’d like to check that too," she added before the nurse sent her for a clean tray.

Miss Vale followed them into the room and sat across from him while the nurse called an assistant to dress her wrists. A little blood had dried against her blouse, and she needed both hands to keep the fresh dressing pressed down. Dante kept watching her breathe until she noticed and assured him she was all right, then asked how he had opened the bands.

"I watched you open a gap, then pictured that same gap staying open," he told her. "I thought about what I wanted it to do, like with the catch at home. Was there supposed to be another step?"

Rhea paused with the tray while Miss Vale asked whether he had drawn the spell or spoken its words. He said he had done neither. "I was holding your arm, and I didn’t know the words. There was quite a lot of swearing, if that helps."

"Most people have to learn a shape and its words before they can cast a spell," Miss Vale said. "You watched mine and made the same thing happen without them. That is what we need to understand." She asked Rhea to request the room recording, and Rhea stepped outside to call.

"So I did magic, but I did it wrong?" Dante asked. Miss Vale told him that unusual did not mean wrong, then pointed to his burned fingers. "You helped me, but it hurt you. We need to find out what is safe before you try again."

After cooling his hand, the nurse moved him from the sink to the bed and dressed his fingers and wrote down a restriction on personal casting until they checked him tomorrow. Guided demonstrations could wait too, and she made him repeat the restriction before letting him use his phone.

The nurse photographed his burns for the medical record, then took pictures of Miss Vale’s cut wrists. "These go with what actually happened to you," she said. "If the test record says you were both fine, we have proof that it’s wrong." Dante liked having one record he could understand.

Dante called Mom before anyone could offer him a better distraction. He admitted breaking his promise, then tried explaining that he had technically rescued a member of staff, which made the nurse look up from her notes.

"Shut up about passing the assessment and tell your mother what happened to your hand," the nurse said, making Mom ask who was speaking. "The nurse, and she said to tell you everything," Dante replied, abandoning the heroic version before holding out the phone when Mom asked for the person responsible.

Miss Vale took it without hesitation and answered his mother. He listened while she gave the address, described the injury, and promised that he could leave with an escort. Hearing someone else explain it made the morning sound worse.

Miss Vale told him Mom wanted him home that evening, and he agreed, since he hadn’t committed to staying anywhere. She passed his answer back before ending the call and returning his phone, which he pocketed before looking at her bandage.

He apologized for not acting faster, keeping his eyes on the fresh bandages. "You got me out," she said. "You were frightened, and you helped me anyway." He had spent years inventing people who said things like that to him. Hearing it from someone he had actually helped made him want to do something useful again, preferably without losing skin.

Rhea returned with Miss Vale’s phone and his sleeved invitation. She explained that the cube was now disconnected, locked in a box, and under guard. The little recording device from his letter was still sealed elsewhere. Both objects were secured, and nobody was asking him to touch either of them.

Dante’s phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out with his uninjured hand. The screen showed no number, but the speaker crackled before he could silence it and the bedroom woman’s voice filled the room. "You’ve made such a mess of her hands, Dante. Who’s going to sign for you now?"