Chapter 19 Ariana
ARIANA
Deep red droplets curved around the edge of the table before dripping onto the floor with a small splash, followed by another and another. Too quickly, it spread.
Blood covered the worktable in the closet of a room where I spent the majority of my time helping the servants, tending to wounds and ailments. This, however, was not something I was prepared for.
“Can you help him?” Soren asked, his brown stare pinning me.
Grabbing a blade, I sliced through the boy’s pant leg, just below where a piece of fabric was used to cut off circulation to prevent blood loss.
Whoever had done it did not do it effectively, for blood continued pouring out of the wound.
Removing the fabric from his leg, I got a good view of a deep gash in his thigh.
I shook my head. “Clause can help you. He has healers in the castle.”
“He won’t help him.” A muscle twitched at Soren’s jaw.
“By the Spirit,” someone whispered from the door to the small room, pulling my attention to Timothy, whose massive eyes stared at the boy on my table. The boy who looked just about his age, far too young for this to be an ending to his life.
Timothy turned to me, shock melting from his gaze into determination. “What can I do?”
“Grab the thread and needle,” I said, turning from him and rushing to get other supplies for disinfection and healing, amongst other things. Timothy moved through the space, quickly and efficiently, careful to stay out of my way.
He handed everything over to me, and I began disinfecting them, as well as the wound.
“Will we need to hold him down?” Timothy asked.
I glanced at the wounded boy’s face. His skin was pale, and a sheen of sweat coated his forehead. I reached for his wrist, the pulse hardly even there. “No. I am afraid that he lingers on the edge of death. No amount of pain will pull him out of that lull right now.”
Timothy stepped back, yet remained in the room.
I began working at sealing the wound, to keep him from losing even more blood. “Why would Clause not heal this?” I asked Soren, without looking up.
“The Sidhe King only uses his healers for those who have made their place, showing him their benefit to being kept alive. This boy has not yet had that opportunity,” he answered. “He has not even completed all the Clan markings that would shield him from such an attack.”
Slowly, the wound began closing with every pass of the needle through his skin.
“How did this happen?”
Soren did not answer, and I quickly glanced at him, meeting with his heavy gaze before turning back to my work.
“Is it you who does not wish to tell me? Or are you frightened you will displease your King by sharing that information?” I asked instead.
“We were outside the mountain walls.” It made little sense. Outside the mountain walls, it is still Sidhe territory.
“Your own people did this?” My fingers moved swiftly to finish the stitch and tie it off.
“Those who are outside are not cared for, not the way those in here are. Some have tried to rebel. We are sent to keep the peace.” His words were cryptic, for keeping the peace likely meant killing.
“Why are the conjurors kept separated from those who are not?” I asked, pouring more disinfectant over the stitches before applying a salve that would help the healing.
The boy was lucky I had it already prepared, for it nearly worked like magic compared to every other healing ointment in the world.
“I cannot answer that,” Soren said with a frown.
I untied the wrap around the boy’s leg. All that could be done for him already was. My attention shifted to his face. He looked terrible. Skin pale and moist, cool to the touch as he lay there, unresponsive. His pulse felt thready, rapid yet incredibly weak.
“Will he make it?” Soren asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know, but his outlook is not good. I think his body is in shock from the blood loss.”
My gaze lifted, and I saw fear in that usually unreadable gaze. “Who is this boy to you?”
“My nephew,” Soren answered, brows drawn.
Thoughts ran through my mind of what more could be done. We could have avoided all of it if a healer was available to them.
An idea crossed my mind. “Timothy, grab two needles and the blood tubes.” My gaze lifted to Soren.
“I will ask you a question. As a leader to your people, you can speak for them. I need you to tell me the truth. What you feel. None of this will get to Clause, to anyone, but it needs to be your truth.” I pulled my sleeve up and tied off my upper arm with a rubber cord before splashing disinfectant onto my skin.
“Are you a Bavadrin?” I asked Soren, just as Timothy placed the supplies before me.
I grabbed a tube and needle, connecting the two before disinfecting the tip.
The needle nearly bit into my skin before a hand grabbed my wrist, stopping me.
“What are you doing?” Soren asked, hand still preventing me from moving.
We were working against time to give the boy a fighting chance. “I need you to answer my question. Are you a Bavadrin?” I pressed.
There was a pause. All of us suspended in a single moment of time.
“Yes.” He finally breathed out the response, hand falling from my wrist, and by the look in his eyes, his answer surprised even himself.
The needle cut through my skin into my vein.
My blood ran through the tube to the other end before I sealed it, keeping it from running out.
I pressed my fingers into the boy’s arm, searching for a vein that was nearly impossible to find.
“I am the Bavadrin Leader Superior. My blood runs through the veins of my people.” Finally, I found a faint cord beneath the flesh.
“I am giving this boy a chance of surviving this.” I sent the needle of the other end into his arm and, by the Spirit’s blessing, found my mark.
My blood began running into the boy.
“What if I lied?” Soren asked, his voice soft, as if afraid.
“You didn’t,” I answered with certainty.
“But what if?”
“Then he may very well die. My blood possibly killing him.” I glanced at Soren, who nodded yet said nothing more. “This is the Spirit’s way.”
The three of us remained in that room, standing around the boy lying on the table.
Time trickled past and nothing outwardly changed.
The boy still did not move, the three of us still stood in somber silence.
Slowly, I began feeling the weakness as it came over me.
My head going dizzy. I shifted, placing my hands on the edge of the bloody table, distributing my weight.
“Maybe we should stop?” Soren asked, his gaze torn between duty and love. He wanted his nephew to live, but he also likely was not supposed to allow harm to fall upon me. But I was not in harm’s way.
“I can go a little longer.” I sounded more confident than I felt.
“Maybe you should sit down? Want me to bring a chair?” Timothy moved closer. His hand reached out as if to touch my shoulder, though he hesitated, uncertain whether he should touch me at all.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” I began swaying when I looked up, trying to meet his eye.
Soren reached out for the tube connecting his nephew and me and pinched it, cutting off the flow. “No. That’s enough.”
“Okay.” I suddenly lost my will to oppose him and pulled the needle from my arm, pressing the clean fabric to it. I went to take a step, but my vision turned blotchy, and darkness took over. Timothy’s arms circled me, keeping me from falling to the ground. Then everything went black.
I woke with a start. The room blurred into focus, my room.
“Hey, welcome back to the land of the living!” Olive rushed to my bed, her eyes large and hopeful. “You gave us a scare there.” She smiled.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position and leaned against the headboard. The effort such a small thing took was extraordinary.
“What happened?” I asked. My head spun, worsened by the shock of being in my bed, not knowing how long I was out or what transpired after the darkness took me. Was everyone alright? Had Clause harmed any of them for my actions? My throat closed up as panic coursed through me, chest tightening.
“Hey.” Her hand found mine. “You are safe. Everyone is.” Her voice soothed, and the tension left me, replaced by a calm. It happened so quickly that it felt unnatural.
“Did you just calm me?” I looked at Olive’s hand covering mine and she removed it.
A small guilty smile warmed her face. “I did. Sorry. You are still weak, and I didn’t want you to worry yourself into passing out again. I know I should have probably asked first.”
I moved past what she did and into what pulled at my heart. “The boy?”
“Alive.”
Relief moved through me. “And Soren?”
Olive tilted her head towards the door. “Waiting in the hall outside your room like usual.”
The calming sensation she washed over me became a real one. My muscles loosened.
“What are you doing here?”
She shrugged, taking a step away from the bed. “Clause wanted someone to stay with you, so here I am. He intends to bring you some food in case you are hungry. I drew you a bath, in case you woke soon. You have enough time to relax and clean up some if you wish to before he arrives.”
“Thank you.” I slowly rose from the bed, surprised to not feel as dizzy as expected. My gaze drifted to the bath, steam invitingly rose from the tub.
“Do you want for me to stay?” She asked, drawing my attention back to her.
“No, I’ll be okay, thank you.” I walked her to the door. It was a relief to find Soren standing in the hall.
He gave a slight nod of his head in recognition, and I couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Didn’t believe me?” Olive glanced at Soren and raised a brow as she turned to me, likely sensing my relief.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean any disrespect. Yet, hearing and seeing for myself are two different things.” I still was uncertain of whether to trust her. She seemed nice, but that meant little when we were strangers, and she appeared loyal to her King.
She shrugged, a smile splitting her face. “No worries. I get it. Rest well.” She hugged me. “Good luck.”
“Why would I need luck?” I asked as she pulled away from me.
“For when the Sidhe King comes to visit,” she stated it as though it were obvious.
My brows pulled together. “I don’t understand.”
“He was not exactly happy that you decided to endanger yourself.”
“I didn’t…”
She held up her hand; the action cutting me off. “You do not need to waste your energy and breath explaining it to me. But you should probably think about how you want to explain it to him.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I murmured, wondering what explanation the Sidhe King needed other than a boy’s life was threatened and that I could help.