23. Sophie
Ipressed myself against the wall of Kasten’s bedroom, my heart thumping in my chest as chaos erupted around me in raised voices and innumerable servants. I’d thought I was ready for this, but seeing Kasten limp and bleeding from such terrifying injuries caused my mind to freeze with panic.
“His temperature has risen, and his breathing is irregular.” Physician Jones spoke to his aid as he hung his stethoscope back around his neck. Servants hurried into the room with more bowls of boiled water, fresh sheets, and bags of salt. “His lungs are clear, so I suspect it’s pain related. The valerian isn’t touching it. I’m concerned his pain levels are still rising. It might be peritonitis. The arrow shaft may have even left shards inside him.”
The aid nodded as he rolled up his jacket sleeves. “I’ll mix up higher concentrations of opioids and increase the other sedatives too. Shall I get Physician Harris?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. She’s needed with the other troops. There’re already too many injured soldiers for us both, and she needs to limit fatalities in the infirmary. The other physicians are too junior. When he’s stable, we’ll operate on this shoulder together, but he must survive this first. There’s no sign of damage to his organs, but we may need to flush his wound and abdomen.”
The aid turned and unclicked a leather box full of glass vials with powders and liquids. The sharp scent of alcohol accosted my nose, mixing with the iron stench of blood. “I’ll mix the analgesic and sedative.”
I licked my lips. Kasten was dying. I had to be brave even after what had happened with Frederick.
But what if I got in the way and made the situation worse?
I heard Frederick’s voice, harsh with pain. ‘This is all your fault! You’ve poisoned me!’
I closed my eyes and was paralyzed for a heartbeat before I willed Frederick’s voice to fade. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t try.
I stepped up to the physician who was cutting away the remains of Kasten’s bloodied shirt. My husband was completely unconscious, but his chest moved in jagged movements with each breath, the muscles of his abdomen sucking in. Physician Harris glanced at me without pausing. “You may hold his hand if you wish but keep clear of his wounds.”
I cleared my throat. “I have felixleaf available. I grew it, and I know how to prepare it. It’s very potent at killing infections. Also, I have bigsweed root and birdsfoot already prepared.”
He frowned up at me as if noticing my presence for the first time. “You’re certain it’s felixleaf? It has to be prepared when freshly harvested and used at once or it won’t work. You can’t preserve it.”
I nodded, glad he was familiar with the rare drug. “That’s why I have it. I assumed you wouldn’t have access to it.”
He assessed me for a moment longer. “Make a 1:20 solution with sterile water and bring it as soon as you can. What concentration is the birdsfoot?”
My confidence grew. “1:4. I’ve already mixed it with a preservative.”
He nodded. “Once you’ve made the felixleaf, give it to me and I’ll administer it. It may be what stops him from going septic. Then mix the birdsfoot in five liters of boiled water and add one percent iodine and thirty grams of salt. We’ll use it to flush out the abdomen.”
I nodded and ran to the corridor where my felixleaf was waiting, its roots in bottles of water. I chopped and ground the fragrant leaves with my pestle and mortar before boiling it in the correct amount of water in the fireplace. I bottled the liquid while it was still hot and ran back to Kasten’s room.
The physician grabbed the bottle before I had time to speak. “Are you confident about the concentration? Never have I been so grateful for felixleaf. We’ll place five drops under his tongue to absorb. That should be plenty.” He nodded to the bowl of water. “Can you still make the flush?” I nodded, rolling up my sleeves to wash my hands again. He turned to the servants waiting in the doors. “I need towels. Dozens of them.” They scampered off.
I started mixing the birdsfoot, salt, and iodine in one of the bowls of boiled water, with a silver spoon. It was now only lukewarm. Hopefully, it would cool Kasten’s temperature.
The aid handed Physician Jones his surgical kit. I felt a little dizzy between the urgency and the smell of blood and infection.
The physician murmured to his aid. “His breathing rate has improved, as has his heart rate after increased analgesia. I’m going to open this wound for visualization. Get the suction ready and prepare to flush.”
The aid nodded and started to heap towels down one side of the bed. I carefully carried the bowl of liquid over and placed it on the bedside table.
The physician nodded at its color. “Go to the other side of the bed and help tip him onto his side. Then hold him steady.”
I hurried to do as he asked, grunting under Kasten’s dead weight, even as I pushed with the help of the aid. The physician turned on the kryalcomy light on his headband, and I could hear the snip of scissors. I tried not to wince.
“Starting to flush now.”
The physician moved one end of a long tube from the bowl into the wound in Kasten’s abdomen, which I couldn’t quite see from my angle. He pumped something on the floor with his foot. The mixture was sucked into the wound and then sucked out again down another tube. The aid kept his fingers on Kasten’s neck, and his lips moved as he counted his pulse.
I closed my eyes and prayed he would survive. His skin burned beneath my fingers.
My arms were weak and protesting by the time the physician said we could roll him onto his back. The bedsheets were soaked despite the towels. Physician Jones got out his stethoscope, checked Kasten’s heart and lungs and turned to me again.
“His best chance of survival will be if he gets felixleaf every two hours. It has to be freshly prepared every time. Can you arrange this?”
I nodded. I would do it myself rather than risk it not working. “I have seven more plants. I plan to grow more, but it should be enough for about two days at that rate.”
The physician seemed to relax a little. “And analgesia every four hours. This one will also keep him sedated.” He pointed to blue glass bottles that the aid was lining up.
I nodded again.
“Can you suture wounds?”
“I can stitch simple wounds. Otherwise, I only know about making medicines.”
He nodded. “Stitch these two wounds after cleaning them with dilute iodine. They should be simple enough and don’t seem to be infected. You can apply a poultice over them if you wish.” He gestured to the wound on Kasten’s forearm and another one across his ribs before stepping back. “We’ll leave the abdominal wound open to drain, and I will close it tomorrow if the peritonitis is resolved. If he survives, we’ll operate on his shoulder the day after.”
I nodded again, my head void of words.
I prepared my suture kit, soaking the instrument in iodine, as the physician placed a large pack of gauze over Kasten’s abdomen and bandaged his wound. He was so pale, he was barely recognizable.
I startled as the physician touched my shoulder. “Lady Batton, are you sure you can do this?”
I licked my lips and forced myself to speak. “Yes. Suture the non-infected wounds. Poultice and bandage them. Felixleaf every two hours. The blue bottle every four hours.”
He smiled. “He’s a lucky man to have you, my lady. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll go and see to the other patients and leave him in your capable hands.”
I bowed my head. “Thank you, Physician Jones, for all your hard work. I won’t let him die while you’re gone.”
His eyes softened and he tilted his head. “He may die, Lady Batton, and it wouldn’t be your fault. That felixleaf is his best chance, and we wouldn’t have had access to it without you. Call me if he deteriorates.”
“I will do.”
“And if you have enough bigsweed, please send it to the barracks infirmary. Our supply isn’t extensive.”
I managed a smile, happy I could be of further use. “I will send it with a servant right away.”
He bowed and left, his aid close behind. The room was suddenly quiet. I summoned Lucy and Beatrice to help me change his bedsheets, then stitched up the two wounds, taking far more care than necessary to make them perfectly neat. After washing my hands and setting my instruments to soak again, I made a poultice with sweetwart flowers from my garden to numb the wounds and pigsmoss from the swamp to reduce inflammation. I carefully bandaged the sticky wads of green over my neat suture lines.
Finally, I settled at Kasten’s side, clasping his hot fingers in mine, wishing I knew of more ways to help him. I watched the clock, memorizing all the hours his medicine would need to be administered. I would ask Tom to dig up felixleaf ten minutes before each time and set up a station to prepare it in his room. The fire was lit despite Kasten’s temperature at the physician’s request. I opened the window to let in a breeze and sat back down before I was tempted to pace the room with anxiety.
I wasn’t sure if what more I could do at the moment other than wait.
I looked down at Kasten’s face, his black hair making his paleness more shocking. He looked so much younger asleep. He didn’t look strong anymore, just vulnerable. In a strange way, our roles were reversed.
I wouldn’t let him die. Not like Frederick.
“I’m here,” I whispered, entwining my fingers in his before pressing them to my lips. “I won’t leave you. Get better.”
Kasten
I woke,the darkness sticky and lingering around my consciousness. My mouth was dry, and my throat burned. I was in the middle of the battle. I must have lost consciousness again. I had to wake up. Had to escape the flames. My fingers sought for my sword, but instead crushed silk bedsheets.
I gasped as my racing heartbeat calmed long enough for me to recognize the clock ticking in my bedroom.
Home. I was home. I was safe.
I blew out a long breath and my eyes instantly searched for Sophie in the half-light of my room.
She was asleep, crumpled in the hardwood chair in the corner of my room, her neck at a strange angle. Her skin was pale, and she had to be exhausted to sleep in such an awkward position. Had she left my side at all? I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here. My mind was sluggish, and I wasn’t ready to relive my memories of Whitehill or remember the endless sea of pain I’d been lost in. That pain was dull now.
I pushed myself into a sitting position, ignoring the burn along my neatly bandaged side and abdomen. Sophie’s glass potion bottles and poultices crowded the table, and the smell of herbs permeated the room. I had to admit, the wounds hurt a lot less than I expected, and I didn’t have the burning thirst, nightmares, or cold sweats that normally accompanied my more serious wounds. I guessed I had my wife to thank for that. She had exhausted herself to care for me. If she wasn’t careful, she would make herself ill.
Next to the tonics was a flat metal disk with a twisting knob in the center. A reserve device. I reached out to the cool metal and turned it on. It was fully charged. Bless Callum. I drew strength from it, careful not to take more than my fragile body could bear. I placed it back and decided to see how far my body could go.
I grunted as I pushed myself to the edge of the bed and eased my legs over the side. Pain spiked to agony. I paused, counting deep, even breaths until the wave passed. I eased my weight forward and stood, taking care not to topple over as the room spun.
I cursed. I hated being weak. Even the reserve device couldn’t strengthen me enough to be able to simply walk.
I staggered a few steps before finding my balance by spreading out my good arm. My injured arm was strapped flat to my chest. When I felt it was safe to do so, I freed my bad arm from the sling and gave it an experimental flex. There was a new wound across the shoulder joint that wasn’t bandaged; the physician must have operated on it. It hurt to flex, but not as much as I’d expect, and it seemed strong enough. I rolled Sophie into my arms and carried her to the bed while holding my breath against the pain. I tucked her under the covers and winced at the smell of my sweat. Nothing I could do about that now. Her breaths deepened as she nestled into the mattress, and she looked far more comfortable.
I looked at the space in the bed beside her and considered whether to lie down again. No, that wouldn’t be appropriate. She would wake up and have a fright. I grunted and staggered away, helping myself to a big cup of wine before sitting in the hardwood seat. It was as uncomfortable as it looked, and my stitches tugged as I struggled to find a comfortable position.
I returned my attention to Sophie, struggling to believe she was right here with me. Her face was so smooth when she slept. She was flawless. The shoulder of her dress had slipped slightly, revealing the edge of her collar bone. I wondered whether it was more inappropriate to cover it up or to leave it.
I tried to keep my eyes to her face, but they kept trailing down her neck to that exposed skin, the shadow beneath. Maybe I should pull the covers up farther.
I didn’t turn as the door clicked open. Only one person entered without knocking. My heart sank.
“Well, this is stupid.” Callum flopped down into the spare chair, one of his own arms in a sling. “You realize you’re the one who’s supposed to be in the bed? And why is your arm free? If I can put up with a sling, so can you.”
I didn’t reply, just flung the empty wine cup at him, hitting him square in the stomach where it wouldn’t make a noise that would wake my wife.
“Ow!” He set it down on the table with exaggerated gentleness. “You need to heal, Kasten. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive? You need to be in that bed, not her.”
I nodded to Sophie. “She’s exhausted. It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. How long have I been here, unconscious?”
“Six days. They drugged you after the surgery to help manage the pain and to stop you from moving. The arrow didn’t pierce your intestines or organs, but you still got peritonitis from the infection. The physician was convinced you were going to die at any minute. Not to mention the operation on your shoulder took hours. Physician Harris and Physician Jones both operated along with a specialist they summoned from Adenburg.” He shook his head when my eyes lingered on Sophie and sighed theatrically. He gestured to the other half of the bed. “She’s your wife. Just get in the bed next to her. It’s your bed.”
I glared at him. He didn’t understand.
Callum dragged his hand slowly down his face. “I can’t believe I’m about to use this argument,” he muttered under his breath. “Kasten, think about how Sophie is going to feel when she wakes up. She’s been slaving away to make you better; she’s the one who stitched your forearm and side, giving you poultices and tonics at all hours. If she wakes to find you in the chair, probably bleeding, and her in the bed, she’ll be mortified. Upset. You’ll be throwing her hard work back in her face. You’d better get your arm back in that sling too.”
I looked back to Sophie’s sleeping form and grunted. By the three kingdoms, he was right. Why could I never get these things right?
Callum massaged his forehead. “Just get into your bed and rest. You’re wearing clothes, she’s wearing clothes. You’re married. You never know, she might actually be thrilled to have some attention from her husband for once.”
I was too sore for his attitude. I scowled at him. “Get out, Callum.”
He raised his uninjured hand in peace. “I’ll get you some stew. You must be starving. They’ve been putting small amounts of broth down your throat, but nobody can survive on that.” He stood and left the room.
I groaned. The stitches pulled as I lifted myself up from the chair. I hobbled back to the bed and eased myself on top of the covers next to Sophie, being careful not to wake her. I strapped my arm back to my chest.
I stared up at the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe in case the movement woke her. We were so close, only a hand’s breadth between us. It didn’t feel right.
She was my wife, but she was also as untouchable as a star. And I feared if I drew close to her, I would bring all the horrors of my life with me and destroy her brightness like a clumsy lump of yadum. I didn’t want to take away what remained of her untainted joy, which was so rare and had somehow survived everything she’d been through. She didn’t belong in the same world as rampaging soulless.
She was hope. I had only ever been doom. And with my birth, my talents, doomed was all I ever would be. I didn’t deserve her.
Still, as the horrors of the battle returned behind my closed eyes, having her there—beside me—made the world seem more manageable. Her regular breaths kept me grounded in reality. I wasn’t in Whitehill anymore, I was home.
And Sophie was safe.
Sophie
I startledawake to complete darkness. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I wanted to keep track of Kasten’s breathing rate while he slept so I could adjust his analgesia if it increased. And after barely seeing him for the three months we had been married, it was nice to have him close and tend to him like his actual wife. But the severity of his illness still had me on edge. Physician Jones had said it was a miracle he was alive. He’d never seen anyone survive such severe wounds.
I was lying in a bed. My maids must have carried me back to my room. But something felt odd. It was probably due to the fact I was still in my clothes, and my neck ached fiercely. My head pounded and my mouth was dry. When was the last time I had drunk anything?
It didn’t matter. Until Kasten was up and about, I shouldn’t leave his side. His chances of survival were much higher if I could keep his pain levels down and prevent any further infection. Things could change so quickly. I might be out of felixleaf, but I’d made plenty of other generic tonics from my plants.
I hadn’t had much time to make the remedies, but now that I had the marshland, I’d be able to make much more potent salves and tonics for the next campaign and, hopefully, grow enough felixleaf for all the most seriously ill patients. Maybe I could ask for a shed in the garden like Callum’s to make into a workshop. But those were plans for later. Kasten had to survive first.
I sat up and startled when the covers stayed anchored down on one side. I froze and truly concentrated on my surroundings. My skin tingled at the sound of deep breathing beside me. The bed was wider than I expected and the coverlet coarser. I couldn’t hear the low ticktock of my grandfather clock; a metallic tick filled the air instead. And the air itself felt different.
I wasn’t in my bed. I was in Kasten’s. And he was still asleep beside me.
I froze in pure shock. What should I do now? Should I go back to the hard chair and act as if I had been there all along? Or stay in the bed? Somebody must have put me here next to him. Would Kasten be angry when he finally regained consciousness, thinking I’d taken advantage of his state?
I slipped the covers off my legs and tried to disturb the bed as little as possible as I swiveled my legs toward the floor. I gasped as Kasten’s hand shot out from behind me and grabbed my wrist. His grip was strong but not painful. I turned back toward him, unable to see anything in the darkness, my heart thumping in my ears. His hand didn’t loosen.
“Kasten, are you awake?”
There was only silence for a moment, then the covers shifted. “Stay with me, Sophie.” The words were slurred and sleep-addled.
Was he even conscious?
His grip didn’t soften. I both wished I could see his face in the darkness and was glad I couldn’t.
“Please. Stay with me.” The words had a rough gentleness that melted my resistance.
I slipped back into the bed, and the slight shadow that was Kasten didn’t move again. His hand loosened on my wrist, but he didn’t release. It had to be the medicine and exhaustion. He would never have said that in his right mind. Pain and opioids could do strange things to people’s minds.
I lay on my side, facing him and wondered if this would be the only time I would sleep next to my husband. I rested my free hand over his, where it was locked around my wrist. The possessiveness of it intrigued me. Did this mean, deep down, he cared about me? At least, a little? My chest warmed, but I resisted the feeling. He was a far better man than I deserved, and I didn’t want to be disappointed. It was always dangerous to raise your expectations, and so far, Kasomere had already been far better for me than I had hoped.
You’re the only good thing in his life.
Had Callum really meant that?
I sighed, knowing the questions would prevent me from sleeping. But it was still nice to lie in a comfortable bed as opposed to the chair, listening to Kasten’s regular breathing and feeling the reassuring strength in his fingers. It seemed he was going to survive after all.