Without reservation, he said. Without reservation. And just like that, she could breathe again.
Because Leila hadn’t been that sure of him, not really. Healer Belby had not gotten a chance to know her well, before; she expected she would not have left the slightest imprint on his memory if things hadn’t gone disastrously south as they had. Even that they had, that they had both been flung onto this course of life at the same time, didn’t mean anything. It hadn’t been his fault. (She wished it had been someone’s fault - it would be easier - but being a werewolf now, she couldn’t even blame the werewolf who’d turned them.) But Healer Belby hadn’t owed her a thing - and Mr. Westerman didn’t either.
Leila thought she might have collapsed on the spot in sheer relief, but she stood stock-still and tried to look grateful without breaking into the grin she wanted to. “I barely know enough to look after myself, these days,” she admitted, let alone other people, thinking of the endless wounds and bruises and extra scrapes she got herself into and suddenly airing reservations of her own in spite of herself. (What if he changed his mind because of it?) “But I want to learn, still. I’ll learn whatever you want to teach.” It wasn’t like cleaning the Hog’s Head kept her that occupied, after all.
Because Leila hadn’t been that sure of him, not really. Healer Belby had not gotten a chance to know her well, before; she expected she would not have left the slightest imprint on his memory if things hadn’t gone disastrously south as they had. Even that they had, that they had both been flung onto this course of life at the same time, didn’t mean anything. It hadn’t been his fault. (She wished it had been someone’s fault - it would be easier - but being a werewolf now, she couldn’t even blame the werewolf who’d turned them.) But Healer Belby hadn’t owed her a thing - and Mr. Westerman didn’t either.
Leila thought she might have collapsed on the spot in sheer relief, but she stood stock-still and tried to look grateful without breaking into the grin she wanted to. “I barely know enough to look after myself, these days,” she admitted, let alone other people, thinking of the endless wounds and bruises and extra scrapes she got herself into and suddenly airing reservations of her own in spite of herself. (What if he changed his mind because of it?) “But I want to learn, still. I’ll learn whatever you want to teach.” It wasn’t like cleaning the Hog’s Head kept her that occupied, after all.
