Chapter 47
I reached out to steady Rowan as another set of hands came to her other side.
I hadn’t even noticed my cousin’s approach until he was sinking to his knees to support the princess. Within seconds, Kirill was there too, panting as he handed over the beeswax-coated bandages.
It wasn’t just them, though. My men, the men who had patiently stood watch over the princess, who had played cards and drinking games with her, who had slowly allowed her to work her way past their defenses, were there too.
Dmitriy and Igor stood guard while Henrick and the others began dispersing the crowd.
I didn’t bother to look back to see if my stepmother and the bastard who did this to my lemmikki were still watching. There wasn’t a single part of me that cared about them now. Let them gloat for now while they still had air in their lungs to do so.
Slipping my hands carefully under her arms, I pulled Rowan’s limp body against my chest. Blood pooled from the gashes along her back, staining my hands a familiar shade of red.
Somewhere along the way, I had lost track of how many lives I’d taken, how many times I’d been forced to wash their blood from my hands.. But this was different. Her blood felt…different. Heavier, somehow.
I took a steadying breath, inhaling Lemmikki’s amber and citrus scent, marred now by the metallic tang of her open flesh.
Taras leaned forward and pressed the bandages against her back in quick, practiced motions, bracing them against her as I shifted her over my shoulder and began the careful process of ushering her into the estate.
She was still.
Too still. Too light. As if all the things that gave her life, gave her weight and substance, had been lashed out of her. There was too much blood trickling from her back down mine. It seeped from beneath the wax, pooling into her wild hair before dripping down onto the snow-covered ground.
Taras hissed, pressing the bandages a little tighter while I walked even faster.
Samu would die for this.
I would make sure of it.
“Where are we taking her?” Taras asked.
I didn’t have to think. “My rooms.”
Yuriy should already be there with the healer, and it was the only place I could think of to keep her safe. Mairi never ventured to that wing of the palace, let alone into my rooms. I didn’t imagine she would start any time soon.
Though a small, vicious voice in the back of my mind dared her to try.
Sure enough, my cousin and Master Edvin were already in my rooms when we arrived, along with one of his assistants. Water boiled in a kettle over the fire, and the smell of vinegar and poppies permeated the air.
“It would still be easier to treat her in the infirmary—” Master Edvin suggested, as if this were an argument he’d already had several times over with Yuriy.
“No,” I responded flatly, leaving no room to argue further.
“Of course, my lord. Lay her just there, then, if you will.” He gestured to the side of my bed where they had laid out thick cloths.
“We’ll need to cut her dress off,” the assistant whispered as Taras and I carefully maneuvered her onto her stomach.
Dipping my chin once, I ordered them all to leave, not bothering to watch them follow through, though I didn’t miss Kirill scooping up the estate cat on his way out.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Rowan’s small form, the way she twitched like she was in agony, even in her sleep.
“She needs something for the pain,” I barked.
“She’s unconscious, my lor—” Edvin started to say, but cut off at my withering glare.
He swallowed hard, his black, beady eyes narrowing behind his spectacles.
“Yes,” he said uncomfortably. “Of course.”
He nodded to his assistant, who brought over a small vial of yellow liquid. He uncorked it before carefully handing the glass vial to Master Edvin who looked from me to the princess before gently tipping the medicine down her throat, coaxing her to swallow.
Still, she cried out when he peeled off the wax bandages, then whimpered with each fraying thread of her gown that he plucked from the raw wounds.
“Women are delicate creatures,” Edvin murmured.
“Enjoyed many lash wound cleanings lately, have you?” My tone was icy, and he wisely did not comment further.
I pushed Rowan’s blood-soaked hair away from her face, trying to keep it out of her exposed wounds. The curls were softer than they looked, springy and full of all the life their owner lacked right now.
I barely registered the sound of the clock slowly ticking away, or the way the light faded from the sky. All I could do was watch as my lemmikki’s back rose and fell with fragile breaths as Edvin worked to heal her.
With each thread of her dress that was cut away, each new wound revealed, I plotted Samu’s death. I imagined the ways I would slowly torture him as Edvin cleaned Rowan’s wounds. The way he would bleed and scream out for help that would never come.
The pleasure I would take from violently wresting his limbs from his body.
Once he was finished cleaning the gashes, Edvin placed cloths soaked in a poppy-and-vinegar mixture over Rowan’s back. Then he moved to the raw restraint wounds on her wrists, removing her bracelet and setting it on the side table with a clink.
While he spread the ointment, I picked up the bloodsoaked bracelet, resisting the urge to hurl it across the room.
All of this was wrong.
Digging deep for some restraint, I picked up an extra cloth and busied myself meticulously cleaning each link of silver, and finally the charm. I wondered what had made her pick a lotus flower of all the wares the seller had to offer. It was relatively common, and she didn’t strike me as being much of a gardener.
But I supposed they hadn’t offered any vodka bottles or bare chested daggers to the average Socairan lady.
When it was finally free of the signs of the trauma it had endured, I placed the bracelet in the nightstand, wishing it were as simple to rid Rowan of her wounds.
Scanning the blood caked in her hair, I called for the men to ring her maid.
As much as I loathed the idea of working with the maid I didn’t quite trust, I couldn’t deny that Taisiya was competent, and I would be here to keep an eye on her. I may not be able to remove her injuries, but I could ensure she didn’t wake up caked in the reminders of them.
Taisiya came quickly enough that I suspected she, too, had been in the hallway. Her eyes widened with what looked to be genuine dismay at the sight of the princess, a small point in her favor.
“We need a way to clean her hair,” I told her, trusting she would have some idea of how to manage it since she had been caring for Rowan’s hair for weeks.
She nodded, disappearing back into the hallway.
At last, Edvin removed the vinegar soaked cloths from her back. By the time he was finished, Taisiya had returned with a bowl of water, a comb, soap, and several more cloths.
The healer placed fresh bandages over Rowan’s back while his assistant wiped away the excess blood on her skin, and Taisiya set to work on the arduous task of her hair. Strand by strand, she worked the deeper crimson out of Rowan’s hair.
Edvin secured the final bandage, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. For all that he had irked me, the healer had worked tirelessly for hours without food, drink, or any break at all. His complexion was drawn by the time he placed a dark vial on the nightstand.
“For when she wakes up,” he said, and I nodded.
He didn’t bother with instructions we both knew I didn’t need, only left with a promise to return the next day.
I returned my attention to Rowan. Somewhere between the medicine and the numbing ointment he applied to her back, she was finally sleeping without twitching and spasming.
She was still half in her ravaged, bloody dress, though, and for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to let her wake up that way. Or maybe I just didn’t want to look at it anymore.
Maybe I would burn it myself, along with all the memories of this day.
“We should change her clothes,” I said quietly.
Taisiya nodded, immediately setting to work. I averted my gaze, only lending my strength as needed to keep Rowan from jostling too much and reopening her wounds.
“Shall I fetch one of her nightgowns, my lord?” Taisiya’s tone was dubious as she took in the princess’s injuries.
That was fair. It would be nearly impossible to get her into her nightclothes without pain, let alone get her back out when Edvin returned to examine her. I walked over to my dresser, pulling out a long sleeved shirt—white, so I could see if her wounds began to bleed through her bandages or seep discolored pus.
Taisiya nodded, and together we slipped the shirt over Rowan’s head, leaving the laces undone. She eyed me uncertainly.
“Shall I fetch you a bowl of clean water, my lord?”
I looked down at myself. It was a mark of my distraction that I hadn’t paid any mind to the grime and blood coating my own skin.
I dipped my chin in assent, and she left, taking all of the soiled things with her. She returned only a few minutes later, setting a bowl on a low table. Then she finally left me alone with my unconscious captive princess.
I methodically worked the cloth over my skin, scrubbing until her blood was no longer staining my hands, my chest, my shoulders. Once I was something close to clean, I crossed back over to the princess, examining her once more.
With a sigh, I rolled each of her sleeves several times so they didn’t cover her hands. She had never explicitly said it, but her disdain for the dresses with the flowing sleeves had been obvious. She couldn’t move in them, couldn't fight.
Not that she would be doing much of that now, either.
I took a deep breath, trying not to notice how she looked even smaller in the clothes that were several sizes too big for her.
Wake up and argue with me , Lemmikki. Tell me you would rather die than wear the clothes of your enemy. Tell me this is my fault.
But she didn’t stir.
So I stayed awake, watching the shallow rise and fall of her back, and wondering how the hell I was going to get her out of here.