43. Chapter 43
Wife?
I looked at Ora, still stunned by the deep lines around her eyes, and guessed she was thinking the same thing I was: Fyom’s wife was dead.
The woman leered maliciously at us all. I immediately recognized a tilt in her eyes and the height of her cheekbones that matched Uriah’s. But how was this possible? Fyom rose to his feet, towering over her by more than a foot, and yet she hardly balked in his presence.
“Why the long faces?” She looked at me and Ora with wild eyes. “Let me guess—”
“Ma, don’t start. Please,” Uriah pleaded with defeat in his voice and shook his head.
“That Fyom here told you all that I was dead?” She turned her attention back to Fyom, craning her head up to the heavens. “And what of your second son? Is he dead, too?”
“Leave it.” The protective, low tenor in Uriah’s voice caused the hair on my arms to rise.
The corner of Addis’s sneer faltered a hair before it rose wide into something most conniving.
Fyom shuffled forward, disregarding the Graevick who barked at him to stop while brandishing their sword, promising to cause him harm.
The hostility that tumbled off of Fyom made me shift back a step and lean more into Peiro.
Fyom’s bright green eyes were full of a hatred I had never seen from him before it shifted into something akin to grief.
“Because you both died that day…over a decade ago.”
Addis’s face remained neutral as she turned around and headed back where she’d come from. “Take them. Alive.”
A pang of sorrow speared through me watching Fyom shift up straight and look over the small crowd that had formed. I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but before I could, we were ordered to move.
We marched quietly through the trees with the Graevicks guarding us from all sides.
It was a short walk until we met a worn dirt path that led us to a large wall made of stripped oak and pine.
I craned my neck upward, hissing at the pain in my shoulder, seeing the battlement dozens of feet high.
Archers were stationed every few feet with their arrows loosely nocked but aimed in our direction as we passed.
My magic stirred wildly as we entered the stronghold. The ink was even absent, like it too didn’t know how to take in the strangeness around us.
People of all ages bustled about, entering and exiting buildings that all looked the same and sat in neat rows as far as I could see.
Children chased one another wearing the same brown clothes, but I quickly noticed only the adults had red eyes.
Occasionally a Graevick stopped to bow and greet one another with the same saying the attackers had quoted, “May Graevick Rise.” Surely these people didn’t think the bastard from hundreds of years ago would come back to walk this place. They were as mad as people say.
“Welcome to The Hold,” Addis called as she turned and faced us. We had stopped in the middle of a square of sorts. Worn earthen paths snaked around the buildings and all were covered by the tree shade above.
“More like a cult,” Fyom mumbled under his breath.
Addis locked her eyes on mine. “You.” My back stiffened as Peiro shifted closer to me.
Addis turned her attention on him then, causing her eyes to narrow as if she were studying him.
“It’s okay, dog.” Did she recognize him?
My heart beat erratically. Surely she did if he had been around Fyom’s family before.
“I’m only wanting to treat your master.”
Her eyes found mine again as she said, “Tarel, take these guests to the appropriate quarters and ensure they have a hot meal and plenty of dry clothes, especially for that one.” She pointed in Fyom’s direction without unlocking her gaze from mine.
“You will come with me to our healing quarters to be attended to. We wouldn’t want that shoulder to get infected or the bones in your hand to grow back at wrong angles. ”
“I am her Healer,” Fyom growled. “You will not touch her.”
Addis turned her gaze toward Fyom with scrutiny. “Is she special to you, Fyom?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Something like hurt flashed across Addis’s face before disappearing a second later.
“Not like that,” Fyom softly explained. “She’s part of the reason we’ve come here seeking answers.
” His tone turned much gentler and sounded full of longing, but still laced with a hint of venom.
“Always wanting something.” Addis flicked her eyes to me, then to someone behind me. “Who is she?”
I followed her line of sight to Ora. White covered her golden locks and deep lines framed her mouth more than I had realized. Judging by Fyom’s apprehension of Addis and being attacked by Graevicks, what would they do knowing the damn Queen of Gria was right here in their clutches?
“She’s my handmaid,” I stated before Ora could answer. She raised an eyebrow before quickly nodding and dipping into a short curtsy. “And these men are my guards.” I nodded to Sury and Peiro.
Addis narrowed her eyes in Peiro’s direction, assessing him again.
Shit. She must have recognized him by now.
“Hmm,” she said, not taking her eyes off of him.
“A lady with a handmaid and two guards?” She cut her red eyes to mine, and my magic stirred in response.
“And who might you be to afford such a luxury, friend?”
I swallowed against the radiating pain in my shoulder and crushed hand. “Just a low-class noblewoman from Oressa.” What would be the chances she’d heard of someone from the eastern coast?
“Ah, a Waterus Wielder? Hmm?” I bit my lip and nodded. “And how, Lady Nameless, did you come across this mammoth of a man, hmm? If my memory serves me right, he rarely leaves his home, let alone makes a trip to the sea.”
“She needs healing first.” Fyom shifted just enough to angle himself in front of me and Ora. “And if your memory is firm as you claim it to be, then you know all good stories start with a mug of good ale.”
Addis blinked twice and looked back up toward Fyom with a sad expression. “All good stories start with a mug of good ale,” she parroted and turned back to us all. “You and your friends can use our healing quarters, then you will be escorted by the Followers to where we keep our guests.”
“You mean where you hold captives?” Fyom interjected.
Addis smirked then turned, leaving us surrounded by who she called Followers. One stepped up to push me along and I cried out in pain. Peiro grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, causing a loud pop to come from the man’s elbow.
“You touch one hair on her head and your life will end. Are we clear?” Peiro snarled in the man’s face, and the Follower nodded frantically.
“Are we clear?” Peiro yelled, spittle flying at the other Followers, who shifted back on their feet.
Something bright flashed across Peiro’s eyes before he released his hold on the man.
We were led to a building that smelled strongly of astringent.
I insisted that Sury be checked first but lost the argument when everyone pointed out that I had a literal piece of a tree still protruding from my shoulder.
Fyom dismissed the Follower who claimed to know Healing, mumbling about their defiled magic, and set to work taking stock of ointments and salves that were in the cabinets.
“Someone yank that out of her arm while I find what I need,” Fyom called over to no one in particular. “It’s not like we’re saving her clothes.”
I looked down at my soiled tunic and silently agreed.
Sury stepped up a little too eagerly and smiled. “Just like old times, right? Like that night you pulled the arrow out of me.”
“Let’s not keep doing this, shall we?” I suddenly became woozy from losing too much blood.
A tense presence came from behind me. “If you hurt her, Little Lord…”
“You do realize there is a branch tearing into her, right? I’m sure it’ll be painful no matter how careful I am.”
“Will you two just shut up!” Ora’s tone made both men stand a little straighter. “Either way, bite down on that.” She grimaced and put a bit into my mouth. The taste of stale leather and dirt coated my tongue, almost making me gag.
“You hold that shoulder as I hold her steady,” Peiro instructed Uriah at my other side, but gave way to my hurt hand. “Sury, make it quick.”
“I have everything we need,” Fyom said as he walked back to the table I was sitting on.
“Right. Ready?” Sury asked. I shook my head. My breathing turned uneven in anticipation of the pain.
“I have you,” Peiro whispered against my ear, granting me momentary peace. “Think of our meadow…”
“On the count of three.” Sury leaned in and held one hand on my chest, granting him a steady surface to push against as he gingerly wrapped his fingers around the branch. The slightest movement and shift in pressure caused me to howl in pain as more tears formed in my eyes. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Think of those little flowers that match your eyes…” Peiro was trying his best to distract me from the coming pain.
“You mean the ones you liked to pick for me?” I muffled against the bit in my mouth.
“I will pick every last one of them for you until the end of time if I must. You wouldn’t even need to command it of me.”
“Okay, one…” Sury started. I waited for the next count only to be met with white-hot fire searing through my shoulder and radiating down to my toes.
Sury yanked the blood-coated tree limb out of my body, forcing me to scream as every one of my cells was set ablaze.
I quickly became dizzy and my consciousness threatened to swallow me whole.
Strong hands caught my swaying body, avoiding the hole in my flesh, and steadied me.
“This part will not feel good,” Fyom said as his Healing Wielding flashed inside of his cupped hands and became imbued into a mixture of herbs. “Someone take that vial there and dab her wound so it doesn’t become infected.”
My mind was too groggy to see who helped, but found small focus when Fyom stood in front of me.
If I didn’t know this man’s true gentle nature, seeing him covered in blood with his hair astray would have led me to believe he was a rabid male.
I watched his fingers turn to fire then shove into my torn shoulder, cauterizing the wound to stop the bleeding.
I screamed once again, kicking against the literal fire, trying to escape the agony.
“Fyom!” Peiro’s voice was filled with pain and agitation.
“It has to be done,” Fyom stated calmly. He worked quickly but it felt like eternity as every blood vessel was being staunched. Once done, his hands came to life with a vibrant green as he took the sour-smelling poultice and placed it over the now burnt wound.
“There. Now for the hand.” Fyom made quick work of placing a new bit inside of my mouth, but this one was coated in something bitter that made my tongue and mouth fall completely numb.
A tingling feeling crept down my neck, into my belly, and throughout the rest of my body, slowly numbing me whole.
Distantly I could still feel my crushed hand.
“Friend, hold her steady. I have to set every bone.”
Something warm that smelled a bit like citrus mixed with bergamot and mahogany wrapped tightly around me at the front.
I buried my face into their chest, inhaling deeply, and felt the sense of calm take hold—until a piercing shift of pressure swallowed my breath.
Again. And again. And again. My shouts were nothing short of a caterwaul that I was sure that could be heard across The Hold and beyond.
The strong arms wrapped tighter around me, whispering some sort of encouragement.
I distantly felt my hair being stroked by more delicate hands.
Eventually the pain took me captive, stealing my consciousness with it.