She’d been here long enough to recognise the tells that might indicate he was about to be really fucking stupid. Yet for all Michael’s curiosity about the differences between male and female power, most of the Garden’s men were reluctant to pit themselves against a woman. Especially a healer. It meant she wasn’t truly sure what would happen if that look did mean he was drawing power into himself like a fucking furnance. But for all the hellscape promised in those cornflower eyes, Morven didn’t flinch. In fact her hands perched on her hips, brows curled up to her skull.
“Och, whatcha preaching at me for, soldier? I’m not over the infirmary fixing up his head, am I. And ye welcome, by the way. Thought you boys would have better fucking manners.”
The revelation narrowed her eyes a fraction, but if he was expecting horror or sympathy he wouldn’t get it from her. Whatever else he was that asshat was a diplomat in the middle of a military compound, which meant even Morven’s hotblooded drive for justice was tempered by the impossibility of retribution. This was politics, and like it or not, Jay was a Dominion before he was a son.
She pulled herself a seat opposite the desk, propped her legs up as she made herself comfortable in it. Her arms folded. She eyed him critically, top to toe, and without a shred of embarrassment in her interest. “I’m here because Michael had no right to knock you down like that. But I won’t heal stupidity. If you feel like finishing the job–” she briefly and impatiently gestured to the door. She wouldn‘t stop him. Not that he wouldn’t run smack into the Dominion outside, but he knew that as well as she did. And doctor or no, she meant it – if he fucked himself up cutting his teeth on this grudge, she wouldn’t lift a finger to lighten the burden. That was his prerogative. Given what she’d done to the Atharim who tried to kill her sister, she could hardly say otherwise.
“But if they sent him here it means he’s like us,” she added. “Which also means you’ll get your chance to smack him around on the training fields soon enough.”
“Och, whatcha preaching at me for, soldier? I’m not over the infirmary fixing up his head, am I. And ye welcome, by the way. Thought you boys would have better fucking manners.”
The revelation narrowed her eyes a fraction, but if he was expecting horror or sympathy he wouldn’t get it from her. Whatever else he was that asshat was a diplomat in the middle of a military compound, which meant even Morven’s hotblooded drive for justice was tempered by the impossibility of retribution. This was politics, and like it or not, Jay was a Dominion before he was a son.
She pulled herself a seat opposite the desk, propped her legs up as she made herself comfortable in it. Her arms folded. She eyed him critically, top to toe, and without a shred of embarrassment in her interest. “I’m here because Michael had no right to knock you down like that. But I won’t heal stupidity. If you feel like finishing the job–” she briefly and impatiently gestured to the door. She wouldn‘t stop him. Not that he wouldn’t run smack into the Dominion outside, but he knew that as well as she did. And doctor or no, she meant it – if he fucked himself up cutting his teeth on this grudge, she wouldn’t lift a finger to lighten the burden. That was his prerogative. Given what she’d done to the Atharim who tried to kill her sister, she could hardly say otherwise.
“But if they sent him here it means he’s like us,” she added. “Which also means you’ll get your chance to smack him around on the training fields soon enough.”
![[Image: Morven-past-life-banner-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Morven-past-life-banner-scaled.jpg)