Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I’m roused from sleep when I hear footsteps on stone. I jolt awake preparing to fight an unknown assailant before Bastian speaks.
“It’s only me, staellara,” he says softly as he kneels in front of where I’m lying. His hand reaches out to sweep the hair out of my face and behind my ear. “How are you feeling?”
I do an internal assessment of my injuries and find dull pain where it once was sharp and burning. “Better, I think. Still some pain, but it’s manageable.”
He nods. “Good, that’s good. I checked your wound when I woke, and it’s stopped bleeding which is great, but it still needs to be properly cleaned and bandaged. Ideally a poultice too to speed the healing process.”
“But we’ll need to get to a town before we can get any of that, right?” I ask as I prop myself up to sit, wincing at the tug from the wound. “Unless you have some stashed in that bottomless pit bag of yours,” I joke.
Bastian’s face mirrors the pain as I feel it, almost like he’s feeling sympathy pains on my behalf. “Unfortunately, none in the bag, we should be able to find a town before nightfall if we’re where I think we are.”
My eyes jump to the opening of the cave, and I can see the pale light of dawn streaming through the entrance. “And where is that?”
He scrubs a hand down his face with an exhale.
“I think we’re in the Twilight Veil. We’re near a trail that I’m almost positive leads to the Unseelie border.
There’s a town just over the border, Nightside, where we can rest for an evening in an actual bed and acquire the supplies needed to treat both our wounds, but especially yours. ”
“How did we even get here though? We used the same portal…”
He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea. I’ve heard of the Fates manipulating the portals, but I didn’t realize they could re-route the existing pathways.”
“Why would they even do that though?” I ask, bewildered. “What do they get out of us being here?”
“I don’t know and I’m not sure I really want to know.”
I sigh as I lean back against the stone wall. “How long do we have until we need to get moving?”
“You have some time to relax a bit more. We only need to get there by nightfall…” He trails off, eyes dragging down to my crudely bandaged leg. “I want you to take more time to rest.”
I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool stone behind me. “I’ll be fine. The sooner we head out the sooner I can collapse onto a bed.”
“What do you mean you only have one room?” Bastian’s voice is vicious, and I don’t at all envy the lanky male trembling behind the bar of the inn.
“I-I’m s-sorry, we’re r-refurbishing some of t-the r-rooms,” he stutters out.
I set my hand on Bastian’s back. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work,” I whisper, my tone gentle. I can feel his tense muscles relax under my hand.
“Fine,” he grunts out. “We’ll take the room.
” Bastian holds his hand out expectantly waiting for the key from the innkeeper.
The second it’s within reach, he snatches it from the male’s hand.
“Let’s go,” he announces as he shuffles me ahead of him towards the stairs tucked in a back corner of the dining room.
I let him lead me through the twisting hallways until we’re in the doorway of the room we’ve rented for the night.
“We cuddling tonight, sunshine?” I ask with a laugh taking in the bed that’s definitely only big enough for one person. If that person was my size. I don’t know how he would fit on this bed even if it was just him on his own.
He grumbles something under his breath that I don’t quite catch as he stomps into the room.
I step in after him and shut the door behind me.
It seems we got one of the not-yet-refurbished rooms. The yellowing wallpaper is peeling at the corners, and the floorboards scream with each step.
It’s small and cramped; no furnishings in the room besides the single bed and a small table with one chair.
It certainly doesn’t look like a room meant to be shared by two people.
Bastian waltzes into the attached bathing room and I hear the squeaks and creaks as he turns knobs before the sound of running water carries into the bedroom. When he reemerges, he’s looking at me with a serious face.
“What?” I ask him.
“Bathe,” he orders with a jerk of his head towards the bathroom.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Wow, if I stink that bad, tell me next time.”
“I’m not messing around right now, Liv.” His jaw clenches. “You’ve been walking all day on that injured leg. Likely gathering sweat and dirt in the wound. You need to clean it out. In the meantime, I’m going to pop out to the apothecary to pick up some supplies to wrap it.”
“Fine,” I say, drawing out the word. At this point I think I’m fighting him because it’s fun.
Because I know that I need to wash the wound and nothing sounds better than a soak right now after how brutal the journey was to get here.
My leg throbs after the hours it took for us to trek here from the Veil.
The pain isn’t as sharp as it was last night, but it’s still pulsing, reminding me it’s there.
I step around him following the sound of running water.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he assures me as he heads to leave.
“No need to rush on my account,” I say with a wave of my hand. Time alone with my thoughts would be good.
He narrows his eyes at me for a moment as he tries to work out my flippant attitude but quickly shakes it off and disappears out into the hallway.
With the room to myself, I begin to strip out of my travel worn clothing, abandoning them to the tile floor of the bathroom.
It was a blessing I held onto Bastian’s rucksack.
My clothes from yesterday were beyond saving, covered with blood and ripped to shreds for bandages.
I was able to change back into the clothes from the day prior which included the fur-lined jacket, which was a godsend as we walked through the snowy landscape.
But it also means I’ve worn the outfit I just stripped out of for three travel days now and I can feel it.
I reach across the bath to shut off the water before it overflows.
The steam wafting up from the water has traces of lavender that instantly has my muscles relaxing.
I throw my injured leg over the tub and tentatively lower it into the heated liquid.
I nearly let out a moan at how good it feels.
I don’t know how this male can get the water temperature so absolutely perfect.
Balancing my arms on the edge, I swing my other leg over and slowly lower myself in, submerging myself from the neck down.
I sigh in relief as I lean back against the wall of the tub.
Whatever soaps and salts he used when drawing this bath causes a slight sting to radiate from the puncture wound but it’s nothing I can’t tolerate.
The weightless feeling of the bath is a blessing to my aching feet. We had just done a two-day journey at a pace that’s far above what’s comfortable for me to turn around and flee for our lives. And then while deeply wounded set another punishing pace to reach civilization.
The entire journey was a quiet and contemplative one, the silence only broken by Bastian periodically checking up on me like a mother hen.
Are you in pain?
Let me check your bandages.
Do you need a break?
I mean, yes. I was very much in pain and in need of breaks, but I refused to admit that. I didn’t want to slow us down. And as I said this morning, the faster we could get moving, the sooner we’d get here so I could be doing exactly what I’m doing now.
We also had a brief conversation about who exactly attacked us.
They had iron-tipped arrows. So, either they knew we were Fae, or it was some horrible coincidence.
I still can’t think of anyone in Willowbrook who would be armed with iron arrows…
And Bastian still insists that he recognizes the scent but can’t connect the dots to who and why.
I spent the rest of the day stuck in my head.
It would occasionally drift to the conversations with Fleur and the prophecy.
But the vast majority of it was spent thinking back on the attack.
Why didn’t I run? Why did I insist on hanging back for Bastian?
I need his help, yes, but he looked more than capable of taking care of himself.
What was that thing with the shadows? It almost clearly came from him, but I don’t fully understand how he did it.
Can I do that? Because that would be pretty cool…
I kept finding my eyes drifting to him as we walked, as if the whole evening didn’t happen and he would disappear because he was actually fatally injured.
Just thinking about that or what could’ve happened had I left him makes dread curdle in my stomach until I feel sick.
But I still don’t understand why I’m so ill at the thought of him being injured like that.
At this point, I would say we’ve been promoted from reluctant allies to tentative friends, so there’s no reason I would have such a visceral reaction to that.
But it seems this male brings out these extreme responses in me for some reason.
The situation with Helena in Grimhallow being the most obvious one…
I was so irrationally angry, and I still can’t even put my finger on what the trigger was.
Was it jealousy? But again, why would I be jealous?
I have no claim over him in the same way that he has no claim over me.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “I feel like I’m going fucking crazy,” I say aloud.
“A little crazy never hurt anybody,” Bastian’s voice echoes through the room.
I startle, sloshing water over the edge of the tub onto the tile floor. “Fuck! You could at least announce yourself. Or wear a bell like a fucking cat.” I huff as I peek over my shoulder to see him leaned up against the door frame.