Chapter Twenty-Five Edith #2
Oh God. I quickly crawl along the side of the table, hoping I can make it to the door before he turns the corner, hoping Amund heard me scream and is already on his way here.
I hurry forward on my hands and knees, keeping low to the ground, only to realize the kitchen has gone completely quiet.
No more scratching claws or heavy breathing.
Slowly, I look over my shoulder.
The killer is standing right behind me.
From my position on the floor, he towers over me. Shit. Not trusting my claws to come out when I need them, I quickly reach up and grab the first thing I can find on the countertop. A frying pan. Great.
Holding the pan between us, I climb to my feet.
The creature growls and takes a step closer.
I throw the frying pan at its head and run.
I don’t get far before my world violently tips over. A massive body flies on top of me, slamming my back onto the cold kitchen tiles. Hard. The creature pins me down with razor-sharp claws. I can’t move. I can’t even scream. I lie there like a lifeless doll beneath the massive beast.
As teeth near my face, something in me yells, fight!
Instinct takes over. With my free hand, I fumble for the pan beside me. My fingers find smooth tile, more smooth tile, until finally—cast iron. I hold the frying pan up like a shield, trying to push the killer back. My arms shake as I fight to keep his jaws away.
But I can’t.
Teeth inch closer to my face. Wet ropes of saliva hang down, splashing me as I struggle against the berserkr. This is no normal animal. He still has human intelligence. A massive paw strikes the pan, sending it clattering across the kitchen.
The killer lunges for my face.
I twist away, but not fast enough.
My lip. There’s a sharp, searing pain as teeth catch my lip. Hot liquid spills over my mouth and runs down my chin as I scream, tears blotting out my vision.
“Edith,” Amund shouts, pulling the berserkr back from behind.
Amund is the only reason I haven’t been torn to pieces. Why the teeth missed my nose and my eyes. He has an arm hooked around the giant wolf’s throat, keeping it from ripping me open. His whole body shakes from the effort of restraining the berserkr.
The killer reaches up with clawed hands, trying to tear free of his hold, but Amund slips a weapon from his belt. A large dagger with a sharply angled blade, covered in something slick and dark. He slashes the creature’s arm.
The berserkr throws Amund off.
Blowing out a heavy, pained breath, the creature lopes on all fours into the dining hall. Amund jumps up, ready to pursue the beast, but something stops him. He turns to me, his expression frantic. “Edith? Edith, are you okay?”
I can’t even speak. Pain shoots through my body. I struggle to breathe as I sit up. It still feels like the wolf is on top of me, all teeth and claws. My hand trembles as I reach for my face.
Where part of my upper lip should be, I feel… nothing.
It takes my mind a moment to catch up.
My lip.
The berserkr bit off a piece of my lip.
No. I must be mistaken. I touch my mouth again, testing it to be sure.
Amund captures my wrist. “Enough,” he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Let me see.” He lowers my hand slowly.
I can tell from the look on his face it isn’t good.
My entire palm is smeared with blood. Even more covers my chest. Suddenly, I feel lightheaded.
This can’t be happening. I refuse to believe this is real.
This is a nightmare, one I’m going to wake from any second now.
Amund inspects the rest of me carefully, checking for any other wounds with a panicked expression.
I’m terrified of what else he will find.
Tears stream down my cheeks. I haven’t cried like this since losing my parents, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop sobbing. My skin feels too tight. Too hot. I start to scream.
Amund reaches for me, but I pull back quickly.
He looks like he wants to help but doesn’t know how. I close my eyes, hot tears spilling as I cover my face with my hands, but all I can see are flashes of my mother lying in her own blood. Now I’m the one covered in it.
“How bad?” I ask, but the words come out garbled.
“Hard to tell.” Amund tenses. “Your upper lip has a deep laceration, but I can’t see your teeth, so I don’t think the bite went all the way through.”
My head is spinning, the world threatening to upend itself at any moment.
“I need to get you to the infirmary.” His voice softens. “Can you stand?”
I force myself to nod.
Amund offers me his hand. I stare up at it, surprised by how large it is. He’s the only reason why I’m still breathing at all; otherwise I would have shared the same fate as Emilía. Swallowing hard, I place my hand in Amund’s calloused palm and his fingers close around me, strong and confident.
With his help, I climb to my feet—
As soon as I stand, my knees buckle. Amund catches me. I slump against him, trembling violently from the adrenaline. “Sorry, I-I don’t think I can walk after all.”
“It’s okay.” Amund scoops me up in his arms, drawing me against his chest. “I’ll carry you to the infirmary.”
Amund’s grip is steadying, anchoring me to the present. His muscles are sturdy and hard as I let myself lean against him like I can borrow some of his strength. He whispers something to me, but I can’t hear anything over the awful ringing in my ears.
The world goes dark.
Amund carries me inside the infirmary and lowers me onto a bed. Through bleary eyes, I look up at him. Now he’s covered in blood too. Seeing so much red is enough to make me hyperventilate.
Amund starts searching the cabinets for something. No one else is here. It’s just us. Which means I have to rely on a hunter for help. He grabs a clean cloth and some gauze and then returns, kneeling down beside me until we’re on the same level.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” he says before pressing the cloth to my lip.
I yelp at the pain, and he withdraws instantly. “Do you prefer to do it?”
Nodding, I take the cloth from him, our fingers brushing for the briefest of moments. I press the cloth firmly against my lip. The pressure only makes the pain worse, but at least I can control it.
Amund moves throughout the infirmary, gathering supplies. He grabs a washbasin and more cloths and bandages, along with some ointments, his movements methodical and calm. I don’t know how he’s able to maintain his composure throughout all of this. He seems entirely unaffected.
Then I recall the way he looked at me, panic shining in his eyes, and I realize that isn’t true. He’s just trained himself not to show it. He hides his emotions, the same way I normally do but can’t right now. I have to get mine back under control, and quickly.
Amund sets the supplies on the nightstand.
He kneels down in front of me, his attention fixed on my face with an intensity that makes me shiver. “Let me see.”
For some reason, I don’t want him to see me wounded. Like letting anyone see makes it real. Part of me is missing now, and I’m afraid what I will look like without it. Amund’s hand closes around mine, lowering the blood-soaked cloth.
His gaze darkens. “You’re still bleeding too much.”
I go to cover it back up again, feeling safer hiding behind the cloth, but Amund doesn’t let me. “We need to try something else.” He peels my fingers back and grabs a small tin filled with a white powder. “This is absorbable hemostatic powder. It helps blood clot and should stop the bleeding.”
He pats the powder over my lip. It doesn’t sting like I expect, but feels gritty like crushed chalk. Before long, Amund is pressing clean gauze over my wound, applying firm but gentle pressure.
Our gazes lock.
I’m all too aware of how close he is to me.
My breath catches in my throat.
He withdraws his hand. “Good, it’s working. The bleeding seems to be slowing.”
Amund gets a fresh cloth and dips it in the water.
“Okay, I’m going to irrigate the wound,” Amund says, still calm and collected. I try to take the cloth from him, but he pulls back. “Let me help you, Edith.”
The tender way he says my name sends my stomach somersaulting. I study his face, savoring every detail. He looks sincere, but his jaw is tight with tension, and his brow is creased like he’s beating himself up for the attack, even though he’s the one who saved me.
I nod. “Okay.”
Amund leans closer, wiping the cloth over my face and wringing it into the basin on the nightstand until the water turns pink, then red.
Amund works meticulously, his concentration and determination unwavering as he cleans my skin.
His every touch seems more delicate than the last, and I can’t explain his tenderness.
“Are you also a healer?” I ask, but my voice comes out strained.
Amund’s attention lifts to meet my eyes, and he offers a sliver of a smile. “Far from it. I’m not as skilled as my mother, but she tended to my wounds plenty of times in the past. As a hunter, I’m no stranger to injury. We need to know the basics of first aid.”
I can’t help but notice how sad Amund sounds when he mentions his mom. His eyes swim with sorrow, but he quickly turns his attention back to the task at hand as he wrings the cloth out over the washbasin.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The words are nowhere near enough.
“Don’t,” Amund says, his voice trembling as he resumes wiping my skin. Despite his size and strength, he’s surprisingly kindhearted. “It’s because of me you were attacked. I never should have left you alone. I thought you were the danger, so it never occurred to me you could be in danger. And now…”
His voice trails off, and he lowers his gaze, shame spreading across his features.
“If you hadn’t returned when you did, I would be dead.”
His entire body is still tight with tension. “I should have been there to protect you.”
The irony of his statement isn’t lost on me. He’s been busy hunting me this whole time, convinced I was the killer. At first, I was afraid he might be right—that I was more like my dad than I wanted to admit.
Now we both know I’m not.
“I don’t need anyone to protect me,” I tell myself, but the words sound hollow, even to me. That’s the whole reason I came here. I wanted to learn how to protect myself and those I care about. Even if I’m the one they need protection from.
“Everyone does, sometimes.” Amund wipes my tears. “There’s no shame in that.”
As I look at him, I can’t help but think, Who protects you? Somehow, judging by his hardness and the way he normally carries himself, it seems like no one ever has.
“There,” Amund says, tossing the cloth into the washbasin. The entire bucket has turned red. He finds a small tin of ointment and dips his finger in. “This might hurt, but it will help you heal.”
He dabs the thick paste onto my wound, and I’m grateful for it. I’m afraid to see how bad it is. Amund tends to me carefully, taking his time applying the ointment. As he works, I can’t help but become aware of his fingers brushing my tender lips.
My cheeks suddenly feel very, very warm.
His face is close to mine, but he seems entirely focused on his task.
I study his eyes while he works. His irises always looked brown, but this close, I can see they’re actually more of a hazel. They’re multifaceted, with flecks of green that remind me of sea glass with all its sharp edges worn soft by sand.
“Edith?” A familiar voice snaps me back to reality.
Both Amund and I turn to see Nils standing in the infirmary entrance, his curly hair disheveled, wearing a wide-eyed expression of shock. He rushes over to us.
“Nils?” I exhale.
Amund tenses, but Nils is focused on me. “Are you okay?”
“Isaac attacked me.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Nils says, a note of panic in his voice. “After dinner, I was heading to the dining hall to see if I could catch you, but then I overheard students saying someone got hurt. I rushed right over here, fearing the worst…”
“I’m okay.” I shake my head weakly and add, “Thanks to Amund.”
Nils only seems to notice his brother now—and how close his fingers are to my lips.
“What are you doing?” Nils demands.
“Stopping the bleeding.”
Nils shoves Amund aside. “You’re using the wrong ointment. Get me the other one marked with the Nauthiz rune. Hurry up.”
Amund rises to his feet, but he seems reluctant to leave. His jaw tightens as he looks between us and then returns to the cabinets.
Nils reaches for my face, swiping a thumb over my cheek. “Edith, let me take a look.” He examines my lip, tilting my head this way and that to better inspect it. “Do you notice any numbness?”
“A little,” I manage to get out.
“Seems like it didn’t damage the muscles around your mouth. You’re lucky.” Nils furrows his brow. “Have you seen the laceration?”
I shake my head.
“Does she need stitches?” Amund asks, rifling through the cabinets.
Nils ignores him, talking to me instead. “Without the missing piece of your lip, there’s nothing to reattach, and stitches wouldn’t work either. Since your lips are full anyway, it should be able to heal with some magic salve.”
But some part of me, however small, will still be missing.
And now everyone will be able to see it whenever they look at me.
Amund approaches, holding a tin marked with a straight line and another diagonal line through its middle. Nils quickly snatches it from him.
“You’ve already done enough,” Nils tells him. “You should go. Dad was looking for you in the dining hall. Word of the attack is already spreading.”
Nils applies the salve to my lip. His fingers are clumsier, shaking as he works, like he’s nervous. He can’t maintain his composure quite as well as his brother can.
Amund watches us for a long moment.
At first I think he’s going to say something, but then he leaves without another word.
“Thank you,” I call out. “I mean it.”
Amund pauses, surprise flashing across his face for the briefest second before he nods.
“I’m so sorry,” Nils says. “I should’ve been there with you.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted you to be in danger, too.”
Nils sounds annoyed. “You know I’m good with magic, right?”
“The only reason I was able to keep Isaac from ripping out my throat was because I’m a berserkr too.” That, and Amund helped restrain him, I silently add. If Amund hadn’t, I would probably be dead right now, despite all my berserkr strength.
“You’re right,” Nils grits out. “I’ve never been physically strong, not like my brother.” He can’t hide the resentment in his voice.
While Nils helps me, who is taking care of Amund now? Is anyone? My stomach knots with guilt. I’m sure he didn’t escape the attack unscathed. After he saved me, I should be helping him, but he’s long gone by now.