"You don't need to prove anything. Just apply the poultice on the wounds I couldn't reach. That's all you need to do."
Auri's brows twitched. "Are you looking down on me?"
"Are you a healer?"
"No, but—"
"Then don't act like you are one."
The frown on Auri's face deepened.
"I'm not looking down on you," Darius said, wiping the dried blood on his arm. "I just don't trust untrained hands."
Auri wanted to argue, but the rational part of his brain knew Darius wasn't being unreasonable. He wasn't a healer. Just because he learned some otherworldly medical knowledge doesn't make him one. It was similar to how he can't patch up someone with stab wounds just because he could treat a paper cut.
But there's something he knew how to do even without a medical license.
"Have you cleaned your wounds?" Auri asked.
"I have wiped the blood with dried cloth and cleansed it with diluted holy water," Darius answered.
