Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The underground chamber spun lazily in Edith’s vision.
She closed her eyes, but that only made her feel like the floor was tilting.
Looking at Thomasin didn’t help either. The other woman was currently staring down at her with a stormy expression.
She had seemed grateful to Edith for jumping in front of the arrow, but she was probably still mad that Edith had lied about the nature of the quest. It was, after all, one thing to agree to escort her to a single destination, and another thing entirely to escort her all across the country in search of an undetermined number of clues.
It was a massive undertaking, and Edith had not been up-front about it.
She had manipulated Thomasin to this point in the hopes that, after reaching the first clue, she’d be so enamored of the quest that she would want to continue.
Edith had justified this manipulation in the same way she had justified most of her decisions lately.
She would do whatever it took to reach Excalibur, even if it meant a slight stretching of her morals.
But as she stared at the deep crease between Thomasin’s furrowed brows, she felt anything but justified.
There was the smallest sparkle of pride at having outwit the greatest criminal of London, though she batted the thought away quickly. It wasn’t becoming.
“I’m sorry,” Edith mumbled, her mouth pinching. Thomasin’s gaze jerked up to meet hers, and she almost looked surprised, as if she had forgotten Edith was there.
Thomasin gave her head a little shake before furrowing her brow even further and saying, “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”
“I lied to you about the clues and deliberately led you to believe the treasure would be here. I didn’t actually apologize before. So, I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me.” Edith’s voice wobbled at the end. She covered it with a cough, hoping Thomasin hadn’t noticed.
A pained groan escaped Thomasin’s lips, and she dragged her hands down her face as she came over to where Edith sat slumped against the sculpture. Thomasin slid down to sit next to her with a huff. She watched as Thomasin drew her knees up and tipped her head back against the marble.
“You have to stop apologizing to me,” Thomasin said, letting her head fall to the side so she was looking at Edith.
There was something heavy churning in her eyes.
For a second, Edith could’ve sworn she looked horribly guilty.
But then Edith’s vision went blurry again, and by the time the green of Thomasin’s eyes had come back into focus, the only thing she saw was concern.
“Are you still with me?” Thomasin asked, leaning closer.
Edith nodded, even though just that small movement had her stomach roiling. But she didn’t care about that just yet. She needed to know if this was all over.
“Just tell me,” Edith whispered, unable to meet Thomasin’s eyes.
“Are you giving up on the quest, now that you know there are more clues?” She waited for Thomasin’s response to hit her like a slap.
Instead, a warm calloused hand cupped her cheek.
With gentle pressure, Thomasin tilted Edith’s face up.
Thomasin’s mouth was set in a firm line. “Absolutely not.”
“Really? I don’t know how many clues there’ll be,” Edith said, unsure as to why she was trying to talk Thomasin out of helping her with the one thing she wanted most in the world.
“Five clues. Five hundred clues. I don’t care. I’ll see you through them all. I figure I owe you at least that much.” Thomasin nodded meaningfully at Edith’s shoulder, where Edith currently had her hand pressed to the bandaged wound.
“Thank you,” Edith said.
Thomasin winced. “Please don’t thank me.”
That didn’t make any sense to Edith, but she was too tired to figure it out. Instead, she grimaced and said, “Well, now that we have that figured out, I should probably do something about this.”
At Thomasin’s look of confusion, Edith withdrew her hand from her wound to reveal the blood-soaked bandage. Her hand, too, was slick and sticky with blood.
“Fuck,” Thomasin said, jerking forward to take hold of Edith’s arm. Thomasin hissed through her teeth. “I need to stitch this up now. You’re still losing too much blood and fading fast.”
Edith let herself slump farther against the sculpture. Her thoughts were murky, and the world around her was starting to feel less real. “Well, I did get shot with an arrow,” she said thickly.
“I can stitch it, but maybe we should get you to a real doctor. I don’t want you to—”
“Shh.” Edith attempted to press her pointer finger to Thomasin’s lip, but her hand was weak and clumsy, so she ended up very lightly slapping her on the side of her face, right under her cheekbone. “This makes me a real treasure hunter. I’m not gonna stop now just to see a stupid doctor.”
“Treasure hunter isn’t technically a real profession.”
“Says the crime boss.”
“I’m not sure how you’re winning arguments while delirious,” Thomasin said as she pulled her flask from the pocket of her jacket. “But I’m going to cut my losses and just let you have this one.”
“That’s nice,” Edith sighed.
“Do you have a sewing kit?” Thomasin’s voice sounded far away.
“In my bag,” she said.
Thomasin fished the little tin container from one of the many organizational pockets in Edith’s satchel, then returned to her side to help her lie down on the cold stone.
It felt amazing against her sweaty skin.
She let her eyes flutter close, finally giving up on the battle of keeping her vision focused.
Edith was content to listen to the sound of Thomasin rustling around.
At least until the shock of cold water being poured on her shoulder jerked her back to clarity.
Her eyes flew open to the sight of Thomasin kneeling over her, canteen still in hand.
Craning her neck, Edith dared a glance at the wound.
Washed clean, it didn’t look quite as bad.
It was a small but deep puncture, and while blood still pooled, it was no longer spilling down her arm.
Lying down must have stemmed the flow. When she looked back up at Thomasin, the canteen was gone.
In its place was a threaded needle. Gripped in her other hand was her flask.
“You probably don’t want to watch,” Thomasin warned before taking a deep swig from the flask. That wasn’t the most reassuring sight.
“You’re probably right. I’ve never been queasy about needles, but then again, I’ve never been the embroidery cloth.” Edith laughed, but it came out like more of a wheeze.
“This will hurt,” Thomasin said, the flask poised above the wound. A breath later, sharp pain exploded in Edith’s shoulder. She gasped and attempted to bolt upright. Thomasin must have been ready for that, though, because her hand was already there to hold Edith in place.
“That wasn’t much of a warning!” Edith seethed, straining against Thomasin’s hold.
“It’s best not to think too much about what’s going to happen.”
True to her word, Thomasin slid the sharp point of the needle into Edith’s skin without any further preamble.
Edith clenched her teeth and used every ounce of willpower she had to lie still.
Luckily, it seemed she only needed a few stitches, and Thomasin’s fingers were fast and sure as she knitted the wound together.
“I’m impressed,” Thomasin said to Edith after she finished. “This is a big milestone in the career of any good adventurer.”
Edith peeked hesitantly at the wound. A jagged weave of turquoise thread held her skin together. “It’ll leave a scar,” she said, somewhat regretfully.
Thomasin shrugged as she tore another strip from her tunic. “Scars are hot.”
If Edith weren’t already flushed and clammy, she would have blushed the brightest, most embarrassing shade of red she ever had before.
Her blank look and lack of witty response was embarrassing enough on its own, though.
She just hoped Thomasin was focused only on bandaging her shoulder back up and not on the way Edith was currently melting into the earth.
With an arm around Edith’s shoulders, Thomasin helped her sit up. Thankfully, the stitches held, and the bandage stayed white. “We should probably get out of here,” Thomasin said. “Do you think you can stand?”
“Only one way to find out.” The ground beneath Edith’s feet lurched violently, or at least felt like it did, as she rose to her feet.
She leaned against Thomasin, who supported her with a strong arm around her middle.
When Edith’s legs didn’t buckle, Thomasin slowly let her arm drop.
Despite herself, Edith wished that she would have stayed close just a little longer.
But that was a foolish thought, spurred on by exhaustion.
Her body felt all jangly and heavy. She couldn’t be expected to think straight so soon after being speared by an arrow.
A smile ghosted her lips. Edith Darling was shot by a booby-trapped arrow.
She imagined the people back home saying it.
Her family, the servants. They would all be so surprised at her daring, and Edith would be so wonderfully vindicated.
Pride bloomed deep in her chest, and that feeling was worth the pain still throbbing in her shoulder, and the shakiness of her legs as she forced them to take one step after another.
“Careful,” Thomasin said as she followed close at her heels. “No need to rush.”
The more Edith moved, though, the more her senses returned to her. This had been arguably the best day of her life, but she was ready to be aboveground again. She wanted fresh air and the sharp breeze against her skin. “I’m okay,” she reassured Thomasin.
Slowly, they made their way back through the dark passage.
Edith’s strength did ebb the farther they walked, and Thomasin was there in an instant, taking Edith’s wrist and slinging her arm over her shoulder.
Edith tried not to put too much of her weight on Thomasin, but she feared she wasn’t very successful.
By the time the stairs came into view, Edith felt like crying at the sight of them.
The prospect of dragging her utterly worn-out body up each and every one of those steps made her want to curl up and die.
She was already out of breath from the slight upward slant of the passage.
Her feet stuttered to a stop of their own accord, and she felt Thomasin’s eyes on her.
“Why don’t you wait down here for a couple minutes?
It’ll probably be best for me to talk to Worthing alone first. He won’t like that there’s no treasure yet, and it’ll take some persuasion to get him on board with finding the next clues.
” Thomasin’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, unconfident even.
“Worthing can be volatile, and I don’t want him to lash out at you. ”
Edith did not fear Worthing, and she thought Thomasin was perhaps being a little overdramatic.
She also did not relish the idea of waiting out of sight like some fragile flower.
But the idea of taking a rest before marching herself up the steps was too good to resist. Especially because she wouldn’t have to admit to Thomasin that she needed a break.
“Are you sure?” Edith lifted her arm from around Thomasin’s shoulders, and leaned back against the cold, cobblestone wall.
Thomasin’s eyes flitted around the room. Her jaw clenched as she swallowed, and her nod was stiff. With a quick, tight smile in Edith’s direction, she said, “I’ll be back quick as I can.”
Edith smiled back, hating that Thomasin had to put up with someone so hostile as Worthing.
As Thomasin turned to leave, she paused, looking back at Edith for a long moment.
Her lips parted, and she seemed almost about to speak.
That dark look was back in her eyes. But then, with a sharp exhale, she pivoted back around and strode up the stairs, her long legs taking them two at a time.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Edith tested her shoulder, rolling it ever so slightly, only to be rewarded with a lance of pain.
She thought about sitting, but worried she would be too wrung out to get back up.
Instead, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back.
Just this once, she was content to wait alone in the dark.