“Argh! Andy…” The groan of pain came from the burly wizard lying on the bed. His bloodied shirt had been ripped open to reveal horrific burning to his muscled torso. The raw burns covered his tanned flesh and the witch leaning over him with the damp cloth wasn’t treating his wounds with the delicacy a wife and healer normally would have.

She pressed the cloth down to clean any infection and the wizard’s face contorted with pain, his hands grasping the duvet and squeezing to stop him lashing out at his wife. His thoughts lingered on the fact that she was being so rough to make his pain worse and as if by magic, her touch became more forceful and he let out another yell. The bitch was a legilimens!

“I asked you,” Miranda Elliot started, giving the cloth another clean in the bowl of water as she shook her head, “I asked you to stop the field work.”

“Andy…” Jonathon growled through gritted teeth. “Now isn’t the time.” For Jonathon, now was never the time. This was an argument that had continued for nine years; an issue that reared its ugly head every time he got injured or had a near miss at work. Miranda and Jonathon had met in the hospital, her being his healer when he’d been thrown into the barn by the dragon’s tail. Miranda, Jonathon regularly reminded her, had known exactly what his job was when she’d married him six months later. Yet here she was, regularly trying to force him to quit.

The cloth was placed back on the burns of his lower torso and she pressed harder yet.
“When you’ve just proved my point?” She picked her wand up and pointed it at some of the shirt that had buried itself in his flesh. “And I’m not a bitch, Jonathon.” Her dark eyes fell on his for a split second before she refocused on his raw flesh. “I just don’t want to be a widow at thirty-four with a daughter under the age of ten.”
“Merlin’s balls woman! Go easy…” He breathed, trying to sit up. “You’re supposed to be a healer for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re supposed to care enough to not try to kill yourself again.”

Mixed in with the pain, Jonathon Elliot suddenly looked quite furious. This time he did push himself up to glare at his wife.
“Coming from the wife and mother that’s never home? That’s rich, Miranda.”

“I’m not going out risking my life for a bit of adrenaline!” With Jon now sat up, Miranda felt decidedly daft kneeling on the floor, but she remained there for a moment.

“No,” The venom in Jonathon’s voice was sharp as he started to push himself up from the bed. “You just spend your life at that damned hospital in that never ending fight for Head Healer.” He grimaced again through the pain, but he wasn’t prepared to let her win this one.

Miranda was now on her feet, experiencing a mixture of anger over his words but concern for her injured husband.
His grey eyes bore into hers. Sweat dripped down his wrinkled brow, his usually tanned face was white and sickly. But there was no mistaking the fury in those eyes.

“You’re never going to get it, Andy. You’re never going to be Head Healer. The world will never celebrate a heartless bitch who puts her career aspirations above her children.”

“Children?” The healer asked, placing the emphasis on the ‘ren’. “I’m not having another one with you.”

The injured wizard was suddenly looming over his wife, hands balled up into angry fists. His voice grew louder, booming in their bedroom.
“You didn’t want the first!”

Jonathon’s words hit his wife hard. She stared at him, looking visibly winded. Pale lips pursed tightly together and she nodded. Her dark eyes glistened with the threat of tears.
“Wow.”

“Don’t start looking like that Miranda! We both know you didn’t want Maya! And now aren’t you making me pay for it! Nine years of being told to quit my job because you want me at home! You don’t want to look after her! I can’t believe I fell in love with a witch who was going to be such a shit wife and mother!”

Miranda stood stunned at the outpouring from her husband. His breathing was quick, he was in pain but the anger was winning over. He snatched up his robes and began to pull them on, heading for the door. She stepped forward, grabbing his arm.
“Where are you going?”

Jonathon whirled around to look down at her, his eyes full of abhorrence.
“To find a decent healer.”