Chapter 45
Amaris
Theodoric closed the kitchen doors behind them, and Amaris tossed Gris’s bow into the corner.
After they’d struggled to get off the boat, they’d been forced to swim to shore.
Amaris had sunk into the sand, her arms tired and her legs exhausted, but Theo had been weary.
His skin was pale, and blood poured from his shoulder.
Her own wound had slowed to a trickle. She’d managed a tourniquet around her thigh.
The water had been a dreaded sting as the salt seeped into her cuts, but the sand had been no better when they’d made land.
With the dagger still embedded in the back of her thigh, she forced back the pain and limped through the kitchen.
The room was in complete disarray, with people scattered on tables and lying on the floor covered in blood.
Even more people ran around, while Ms. Borstad attempted to direct them in any way she could.
Theodoric leaned into Amaris, exhaustion finding him.
“Hold on a little longer,” she whispered, bracing a shoulder under him.
He didn’t reply, but judging by his panting breaths, she knew he couldn’t make it further.
They staggered through the swarm of people.
The ones they’d passed quieted and stilled as they moved through the kitchen.
Ms. Borstad directed Amaris through the servants’ door into the main hall.
What she saw was far worse than in the kitchen.
Many more were on makeshift cots or even the bare floor.
A few soldiers saw her struggling to bear Theodoric’s weight and assisted in carrying him to an open cot.
“Go help the others,” he said. “I just need to rest.”
“You can be so stubborn,” Amaris said, pressing against his chest as he tried to sit up. “Sit your ass down.”
They were their first words uttered since they’d stepped off the ship. Their trek up the beach had been brutal and neither of them had words for what hell they’d just gone through.
A servant came over with one of the baskets and set it at her feet. She shifted her gaze and spotted Pricilla working without tiring. She searched the hall for Onika but didn’t see her dark curls among the throng.
She scavenged the basket for ude stalk to mix with the yuxiway leaves as Pricilla instructed what seemed so long ago, but there was only the small jar of crushed-up leaves.
The servant came back and placed a fresh basin of water and a cloth beside Theodoric.
Amaris wrung it out and pressed gently against the first wound. He groaned.
“This is going to be really uncomfortable,” she warned him.
“I think it’ll be worse than uncomfortable,” he added, huffing through pursed lips.
“Alright, it’s going to hurt a lot,” she admitted, slightly laughing. Her shoulders began to relax. Her nerves were shot. No number of deep breaths could fully ease her jitters.
“Do you enjoy torturing me?” He tried to laugh with her, but he winced and grabbed at the wound in his shoulder.
“No, I just don’t ever tell my patients it’s going to hurt a lot. It doesn’t usually elicit a calming effect.”
“I would presume not,” he said, “but I can take whatever you throw at me.”
“You might want to reconsider that.” She grinned, biting the edge of her lip.
She moved through each of his wounds, cleaning as best she could.
She started with his shoulder, wiping along the edges and cleaning out dirt and sand.
He breathed through each stroke, watching as her hands moved along his skin.
She assessed the severity of his severed flesh.
It didn’t appear deep enough to have penetrated the muscle, but it still bled like a bitch.
She pressed her fingers against the cut, reaching for a roll of linen to wrap a pressure bandage over it.
The rest of his wounds were easier. She helped him roll to his side so she could clean the opened cuts on his back. Thankfully, there were only a few. The rain had washed away most of the blood, and a few had already begun to dry and clot.
She ripped a bigger hole in his pants to clean a cut to his thigh and get access to his knee to properly bandage it.
She didn’t know how he’d been able to even stand on that ship, let alone walk back with her.
She ripped off his makeshift wrap. His knee had swollen to almost twice its size.
She bound it in a new bandage, hoping it’d help to control some of the swelling while she propped his leg up.
She spat into the yuxiway leaves and began rubbing the paste into his wounds.
He winced as her fingers pressed to the cut in his thigh.
She gave him a look. His eyelids fluttered, and he nodded for her to continue.
A warmth spread through her. She coughed, attempting to rid her body of the flush creeping up her neck before it could show on her cheeks.
She finished binding each cut, and he watched her through it all. His eyes never once strayed from her fingers. She finally stood, but he seized her hand. She swallowed her gasp before it had a chance to penetrate her lips.
“Amaris,” he whispered, eyeing her leg.
Her eyes followed his and spotted the belt pulled taut around her thigh. “It’s hardly a scratch,” she said, trying to pull her leg from where his hands grasped around the knife. For how clammy his skin was, his hands were incredibly warm against the outside of her pants.
She’d apparently shoved the pain so far down she’d forgotten all about it. She let out a small laugh. How could I forget there’s a knife in my leg?
“You call me stubborn,” he said, his brows furrowing. “You have a dagger in your thigh.”
“Fine,” she groaned, grabbing the fade chicory from the basket.
He took the jar from her, giving her a narrow look as he gently held her waist and urged her to lie down.
She settled beside him before her mind could protest. He scooted closer, his body almost pressing against her back.
He practically radiated heat. She forced her breaths to remain cool and steady.
His fingers wedged themselves around the knife, ripping and prying her pants apart.
“These were my only pants,” she complained, hoping the humor could distract her.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Well, duh. I’m not wearing a dress from here on out.” She nervously chuckled as she turned her head.
His brow lifted to the slight crack in her voice, but she returned her focus to the dagger still embedded in the back of her thigh.
“This is going to hurt.”
“See what I mean?” Amaris began. “Telling me it’s going to hurt only makes me more on edge and—”
She yelped as he pulled the knife out. She gripped the edges of the cot, wishing narcotics existed here.
He grabbed a piece of linen, pressing it firmly against her thigh.
She sank her nails into the thin fabric of the cot.
Again, she fought the flush in her cheeks as his hands pressed harder against her leg.
His fingers skimmed her inner thigh. She shouldn’t have liked the sight of his hand wrapped around her leg or how close he was.
When he pulled back, her body instantly yearned for his warm touch. He trickled the herb over her wound, extinguishing all thoughts as a burning sensation seared through her thigh. She grasped his arm before he could sprinkle more of the burning hell into her wound.
“That’s enough,” she breathed.
“It’ll burn.”
“You don’t say,” she grumbled through the pain, her nails no doubt creating crescent moons in his skin.
He hefted her thigh up, pulling out a string of linen. He wrapped it around and tied off the end before falling back to the cot. “You should rest.” He released a deep breath.
Amaris stood, expecting him to grab her again and drag her beside him, but he didn’t. He shut his eyes, laying a hand across his chest.
“So should you,” she whispered.
She pulled away before she listened to him and curled up beside him on the cot.
Pulling her hair behind her ears, she fanned her heated cheeks.
What am I doing? Her thumb fidgeted with the ring wrapped around her finger as she desperately put distance between her and Theodoric.
Once at the edge of the room, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She couldn’t feel this way. It’d only been a few weeks since she’d run out on Derek, but hours ago, in the tower, she’d allowed herself to wonder.
She turned back around, and her thoughts drifted as she assessed the scene around her with all the injured scattered.
She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck.
She had a job to do. Everything else could wait.
She limped to the kitchen to gather what information she could from Ms. Borstad and check their inventory levels.
Alan appeared as though he’d never left.
His sword was sheathed at his back without a single drop of blood, but his clothes were covered in it.
He carried an injured Luana soldier from the kitchen doors and disappeared into the dining hall.
She looked down at her own shirt. It was ripped, showing her corset, and covered in blood, most likely from Theodoric and the man he’d rammed with his sword. She braided her hair again. Her hands needed to move through the strands like they always did, preparing herself for the call.
Well, now was the call of a lifetime. She moved to a sink and splashed the lukewarm water over her skin. Blood dripped down her cheeks, sliding along the edges of her lips. She spat out the coppery tang and glanced over her shoulder at the biggest disaster she’d ever seen.
Ms. Borstad caught her eye as she tended to one of the patients. Amaris rolled up her sleeves and approached the woman, begging the pain in her thigh to disappear. It was Ediva.
“Gave her cudweed and placed wrap around wound. Yuxiway should fend against festering. Fade chicory to staunch bleeding,” Ms. Borstad said, peering at the wrapped stump of the Ediva’s leg.