When she looked down and saw white flowers, her chest filled with giddy pleasure over the kind gift…until—whoops—she realized it was her own laurel that she’d made earlier today and had affixed to her head.
It must’ve fallen off during their tumble to the straw.
“Oh! Thank you.”
“Mm-hmm.” As she picked a stray piece of hay from the wreath, the boy tried to stand. “There’s no need to bother the healer,” he was saying. “I’ll be fine.”
“But you really need to—whoa!” She slapped the laurel haphazardly back on her head so she could rush to grip his arm. “Are you sure you should be standing? What if your leg is broken?”
“It’s not,” was all he said as he grabbed on to the fence beside him before putting all his weight down.
Frowning over his stubbornness and refusal of help, Xia set her han
