Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
T he great hall was filled to the brim with people. Fia had to step over the wounded soldiers carefully, even as she rushed around the room to help those who needed her the most, trying to stop wound after wound from bleeding. She didn’t have the luxury of time to take care of each man individually. Once she had determined there was no threat to his life, she moved on, letting the maids to care for the rest—cleaning and dressing the wounds, and making sure they wouldn’t be infected.
The feast had come to a sudden halt and the best the servants could do was push all the tables and benches to the edges of the grand room. Food sat on the tables, piled high on the serving plates, and had long since gone cold and stale. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables was overpowered by the stench of blood, which seemed to seep into every crevice of the room, sinking deep into Fia’s clothes.
Never before had she dealt with such devastation, had she seen so many wounded men at once, so many in pain, so many dead.
The only thing that kept her going was the thought that these men relied on her, and so did the entire clan. If she allowed herself even a moment of doubt or rest, she was certain that she would end up breaking down entirely, overwhelmed by the sight of bodies on the floor. Many men brought to her and Effie took their last breath in that room, and the servants couldn’t pull them away fast enough. There was only that much they could all do; it was the soldiers who had to lay there while their friends were dying right next to them that Fia pitied the most.
In her panic and rush, she hadn’t given much thought to what may have happened to Knox and Bane. They weren’t in that room, and that was enough for her. Surely, if they had been wounded, they would have been brought in just like everyone else, which could only mean that they were still alive and well, fighting outside the keep.
In there, in the great hall, they were safe. That was what she kept telling herself. The keep was the safest part of the castle, allegedly impenetrable, and several men guarded its doors and windows. Fia didn’t let her thoughts linger on everything that could go wrong. She only muttered the process of caring for the wounded to herself again and again like a mantra, like a prayer; the only thing that kept her sane in the middle of chaos.
She didn’t know how much time had passed since the start of the attack when the doors to the great hall burst open and the room was flooded with shouts. She turned around to see Magnus there, carrying Knox over his shoulder all alone, red-faced and drenched in sweat as he ran as fast as he could. At the sight of them, Fia’s blood ran cold. Knox wasn’t moving at all. He was only dead weight, his body swinging in the rhythm of Magnus’ gait, his arms and legs hanging limp as Magnus carried him. When he found an empty spot to lower him to the floor, Fia saw just how much blood he had on him, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was his and how much belonged to other people.
It was as though time had stopped, stretching into a cruel infinity in which she could do nothing but stand there, frozen in horror, her body refusing to move. Everything around her was in slow motion. Her ears buzzed with the sound of blood rushing to her head, and her vision spun as she took a few stumbling steps towards Knox, legs and arms numb with fear.
She could not help him like this, she knew. She could not help him unless she pulled herself together, but the sight of him like that was enough to paralyze her and she had to force herself to take step after agonizing step just to try and reach him.
Somehow, her feet carried her over to Knox and Magnus, and she fell to her knees next to them, her hands hovering right over Knox’s body. He wasn’t even wearing any armor; Fia cursed under her breath at his foolishness and the rash way in which he had thrown himself into the fight, never once stopping to think that he should protect himself better. But what was done was done and there was no point in blaming him. If there was one thing, she had always known about him, it was that he would sacrifice himself for his people without a second thought. He was determined to take care of his clan, consequences be damned.
All layers of his formal dress had been sliced clean through at the shoulder, the cut extending towards his chest. With trembling hands, Fia grabbed the fabric and tore it the rest of the way, exposing his torso and the wound that was still sluggishly bleeding. In the periphery of her vision, she caught a glimpse of Effie, falling to her knees at the other side of Knox’s body, but Fia was quick to hover protectively over him, her instincts getting the better of her.
Effie only wanted to help, but Fia wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Besides, there were many other men who needed Effie’s help; Knox was not the only one bleeding out.
“I’ll care fer him,” Fia said, her voice coming out strained and choked. “I… I can dae it on me own. Thank ye.”
For a moment, she glanced up to find Effie giving her a knowing look and a gentle, yet sad smile, before she pushed herself to her feet and drew in a deep breath. She, too, needed to compose herself. But then, once she had gotten herself under control, she turned to the maids, her voice ringing clearly through the chaos in the room, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.
“Quickly!” she called. “Hot water an’ cloth! An’ horsetail, lots o’ it!”
Fia nodded to herself, grateful to have Effie there to give the orders. Her hands moved mechanically, muscle memory kicking in as she took care of Knox.
Within moments, a swarm of maids had surrounded her, handing her everything she needed. Fia cleaned the wound meticulously, wiping away the blood hurriedly to take a better look at the damage underneath. The only good thing about Knox being in this state, unconscious and unmoving, was that she could hurry without fear of him feeling any pain when he woke.
He would wake up. She would make it so.
The cut from his shoulder to his chest was deep, one that would need sewing and plenty of dressing. She didn’t have the time to see if there were other wounds that needed her attention; this was the most pressing one, and until she had dealt with it, she could do nothing else.
Though the maids around her whispered among themselves, expressing their concern for their laird, and Magnus was pacing back and forth right in front of her, Fia could neither hear nor see any of them. The more she worked on the wound, the steadier her hands became and the more her body calmed. Even if her mind was still racing, trying to throw her into a panic by conjuring up unfavorable scenarios, her body knew what to do after all these years of training as a healer. In no time, she had Knox’s bleeding under control, sewing the skin together, packing the wound with a paste of horsetail and witch hazel, and dressing it with clean cloth. By the time she was done, Knox was still unconscious, his skin a sickly yellow after all the blood he had lost, and she was covered to the elbow with blood, but he was still breathing. Not only that, but his breathing was getting steadier and his heartbeat, when Fia pressed her fingers against the pulse point on his neck, was stronger, his heart beating in a stable rhythm.
It was done. Fia could finally breathe, leaning back as she knelt there on the floor, her head tilting back to look up at the ceiling. She had never given it much notice before, how the stones stretched so far above that the ceiling seemed to reach the heavens. It struck her as odd that she was noticing this now; with all her energy drained out of her, focusing on that ceiling was all that kept her from breaking down into sobs right in the middle of the great hall. Yet, she could feel silent tears streaming down her face.
He’s alive. He’ll be alright.
Fia kept repeating those words to herself again and again. And somewhere in the chaos, somewhere in her panic and her fear for Knox’s life, she realized that she had truly and utterly fallen for him.