Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4) by Karen Luellen

skill and precision, always gentle, always efficient, as though they had their own energy reserve from the boy to which they belonged.
    “What thought?” Creed asked.
    “Well, what did Sloan think was going on at the hospital?  She’s a smart girl.  She must have known more than she acted on.”  Meg watched the orange antiseptic seep into the deep cut still oozing blood with every movement of her hand.  “And just now, when she touched my hand, I got the very distinct reading that she’s terrified of something.”
    “Of what?”
    “I didn’t have the stren …I mean I didn’t have enough time to delve deeper than the most obvious emotion she was feeling.”
    “You think Sloan was part of the machine that performed tests on the children there?”  Creed was frowning, a worry line pressed across his wide forehead.
    “I don’t know, but it would make sense that she would have at least knew of the testing.  Don’t you think?”
    Creed was chewing the inside of his cheek, deep in thought.
    “Hey Meggie, I don’t have a local pain killer.  Are you going to handle the stitches without it?”  Evan was trying to focus on his task at hand, though his sister’s words worried him more than he would have thought they would.
    She swallowed hard.  “How many stitches do you think I’ll need?”
    “You need at least six, maybe seven.  I would offer you butterfly bandages if the gash were at a less movable location, but on the palm, yeah, you definitely need stitches here.  I think I’ll opt for the simple interrupted suture technique.”  Evan seemed to say the last part to himself as he turned to gather his curved needle holder and thumb forceps, surgical thread. 
    Meg sighed deeply too tired to think.  “Okay little brother.  But if you’re upset at me about anything, you’d better not take it out on my raw hand, or I’ll just have to kick your butt.”
    Evan smiled at the touch of that feistiness usually such a big part of his sister’s personality. 
    Having prepared completely, needle poised and ready, he glanced at Creed for moral support when he said, “Okay, you’ll feel a little pinch, Meg.  Sorry.  I’ll be as gentle and quick as I can be.”
    Meg curled up against Creed’s wide chest, still sitting in his lap.  Her hand was resting on the tray table Evan had set up as a makeshift surgical table. 
    His fingers worked carefully, but the pain of the needle piercing her already angry flesh was enough for her to see stars.  Creed leaned over her, pressing his forehead to Meg’s wishing he could give her the strength for pain tolerance that seemed to come so naturally for him. 
    “Almost done,” Evan breathed.  Meg’s left hand was clenched into a white-knuckled grip, her jaw locked and eyes squeezed shut.  Just as Evan was positioning the last stitch, the plane pitched violently.
    “ Ahh!” Meg screamed as Evan’s fingers jabbed the curved needle in her deeply.
    The vibrations in the cabin persisted, worsening.  Evan turned to check his mother, making sure nothing was going to fall on her or cause her to move. 
    “Sorry, Meg,” Evan quickly yanked the needle from her hand and waited for a lull in the vibrations before he moved to make his one last stitch and closed with a knot so fast you’d think he was in a hog-tying competition that ended with the pig squealing on its back and both his hands up in the air showing the judges he was done!
    The vibrations started back up.  Creed lifted Meg off his lap and set her in the seat beside him, reaching around her to grab the seat belt and fasten it.  She was still holding her hurt hand to her chest, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes from the jabbing pain…literally. 
    “Creed!  What about Danny?” Meg’s dark eyes were wide with worry. 
    He leaned to look down the aisle and saw Alik hurrying back and stopping in the row where the little boy was sleeping.  The boys caught each other’s eyes and a guy-nod