Nobody's Goddess by Amy McNulty

less what his opinions were of my appearance at that moment, not when he held my life in his hands. My fingers poked around inside the too long arms of the jacket and gripped the soft seams nervously. “I have a request. Of the first goddess.”
    “Does not everyone? If only she could hear the voices calling her.” He paused, his voice wavering. “Some more desperate than others.” I jumped as leather brushed against my hand. He pulled on my sleeves and rolled them up so that my hands were free. He grabbed my palm and turned it over to separate my splintered finger from the rest. In my nervousness, I’d forgotten the slight pain that ebbed now from the tip of my finger.
    “Can’t you speak with her then?”
    “You are injured,” he said as if I hadn’t spoken. My heart sank. What was I doing? I had a sinking feeling I was chasing a mythological woman, no more real than my queen and monsters.
    The tips of a glove ran smoothly across my finger and reminded me of the delicate softness of bird down. When I’d played with my friends by the livestock, we’d often tickled one another with the down left behind by farmers’ chickens, but this elicited so much more aching and none of the giggles. And there was something more, a warmth mixed in with the chill of the leather. Leather . Leather, like in the cavern pool.
    I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened and my palm was locked firmly in his grasp.
    “It’s fine, thank you,” I said, a little more sternly than I’d intended.
    He let my hand free. I stumbled, a bit off balance, and he steadied me at the shoulders.
    “Let me get a needle,” he said, “and I can remove the splinter for you.”
    “You needn’t trouble yourself.”
    “It is no trouble at all, I assure you.”
    “I’m sure I can get it myself later, thank you.” I cradled the finger protectively against my shoulder, lest he try to wrest it from me again.
    “But you would not forbid me from treating it?” His voice seemed odd. Tentative.
    “Uh, no,” I mumbled. I didn’t know whether or not giving in would end the embarrassment sooner.
    “Wait here a moment.”
    The echoes of his footsteps reached my ears, and he was gone. I stood, wondering if it would be more foolish to stay or to go. You came here for a reason. But you’re risking your life! What is life without Jurij? The dilemma was meaningless, as I hadn’t made even a blind step forward when I heard his echoing footsteps again. A bottle clanged against the floor in front of me.
    “I brought some ale to numb the area and bandages with which to wrap it.”
    I laughed before I could stop myself. “It’s just a splinter.”
    He made a sound that I thought to be laughter as well, although it echoed throughout the chamber in a tone both sweet and melancholy. “Yes, well, I will do all I can to help you.” The leather feathers cradled my injured hand that still rested atop my shoulder. “May I?” he asked. His speech was warmer and more confident.
    “All right.” It was my turn to speak tentatively.
    He took my hand in his and pulled on it a little as he bent down to retrieve the bottle of ale. The cool liquid didn’t sting as it should have and reminded me of nothing more than water. A rustle of leather and the hand touching mine became as cold as ice, as smooth as marble. He’d removed one of his gloves and now the icy fingertips grew warm. Somehow, I felt both comforted and violated. The pain from the splinter vanished.
    “What is your request?” he asked as he began poking my fingertip with the needle. My heart soared a little at the idea that he might be able to ask the goddess to help me after all, that she might actually be out there somewhere, watching. My finger throbbed, but I felt that it should have hurt more than it did, that he was taking great pains to minimize my soreness. The needle pricked just a little harder than previously. I squeaked a little in shock.
    “Did I hurt you?” The man’s hand