Chapter 58
MYRA
Cracking open the exit, Rian peered out. The brisk autumn air seeped into the tunnel and sent a chill down Myra’s back. Laurince’s hand tightened around her shoulder.
Myra had calmed the pain just enough for Laurince to walk and not hiss with every step. But based on the sweat dripping from his forehead, the pain was swiftly returning, her gift’s hold on him draining.
"Oh!" Phaia bounced on her toes as she slipped outside the tunnel. "I know exactly where we are! Come on." She hurried forward, beckoning them to follow.
As they headed down the alley, faint screams sounded from those escaping the castle behind them. Myra glanced at the sky. She could have sworn she saw drakonises flying above the castle, but she couldn’t be sure. The shadows melted into the dark sky as night fell over the capital.
"My house is down here," Phaia said after a while.
"You don’t live in the castle?" Myra asked.
Phaia held up a hand, and the four of them halted. She peered around the corner and whispered, "I did. But when Sebastian acted in His Majesty’s place, I no longer enjoyed being in the castle. I needed an escape. I wasn’t the only one either. We can stay at my house."
"We can’t," Rian rushed out. "If there are others…I can’t…we can’t trust anyone right now. We shouldn’t even be trusting you."
"That is probably true. I head what Ferencia did, but I’m not her."
Myra glanced at Phaia. Although her gift was weak, she could still feel Phaia’s emotions. There was no malicious intent. No pangs of jealousy. Phaia wasn’t Ferencia.
At least Myra hoped she wasn’t.
"If you don’t want to stay with me, you don’t have to."
Laurince’s weight collapsed on top of Myra as he keeled over in pain. Rian slapped a hand over the captain’s mouth, muffling his groans.
"Rian, I don’t think…I don’t think we have a choice," Myra whispered, looking between him and Laurince. The captain was barely hanging on. He needed to rest.
"Your Highness, I have never betrayed you, but it is your choice," Phaia said.
Rian bit down, his jaw popping. But Myra could see the moment he relented.
"Go," he said, tipping his head forward.
Phaia nodded and dipped around the corner. She ran up the steps of a small bungalow and dug into her pocket, pulling out a key. After unlocking and opening the door, she waved them inside.
"Here, I got him," Rian said, wrapping his arm around Laurince’s waist.
Myra reluctantly let go and followed them inside, her gaze trained on Laurince the entire time.
Phaia scanned the empty street and slipped inside before locking the door. "It’s not much, but please make yourselves at home."
"It’s perfect," Myra said, offering her a tired smile. All the adrenaline drained from her body, and the exhaustion smacked into her.
"Is there a place we can…" Rian tipped his head in Laurince’s direction.
"Oh, yes!" Phaia scrambled past him. "This way. I have a small spare room. We can set him up in there."
"There’s really no—" Laurince bent over, his words cut short.
"Laurince!" Myra cried out and ran toward him. She threw one of his arms over her shoulder.
"Fuck," he bit out, his jaw popping.
"Come on," Rian said, throwing Laurince’s arm back over his shoulder and taking most of the captain’s weight from Myra.
They followed Phaia into a room with a small bed and a single nightstand. Carefully, they lifted Laurince onto the bed with Phaia’s help and Laurince’s protests. The captain tried to shake them off, but another spike of pain halted his complaints.
Once on the bed, Laurince arched back, baring his teeth.
"Here," Rian said, unbuckling his belt. "Bite down on this."
Laurince shoved the leather belt away.
"Do you want to lose your fucking tongue?" Rian shouted.
Myra stepped forward. "Let me," she said, hand open.
Rian rolled his eyes but gave her the belt.
She moved to the head of the bed. "Laurince."
He blinked, struggling to focus on her. She brushed her hand across his sweat-slicked forehead.
"Please," she begged, raising the belt.
Grimacing, Laurince nodded and pried his mouth open half an inch. She slipped the belt between his teeth. She held the side of his face as he bit down, his body convulsing as another spike of pain overtook him.
"Is there anything I can get him? Maybe some tea?" Phaia suggested, shifting on her feet.
"That would be great, Phaia," Rian said, his attention focused on his friend.
Phaia nodded and hurried out of the room, her footsteps a soft clatter against the wooden floors.
Rian sat on the edge of the bed and gently placed a hand on Laurince’s shoulder. He glanced up at Myra. "Can you—is there anything you can do?"
Myra scraped her teeth against her bottom lip. "I’m weak, but it would be easier if…" She glanced at the spot Rian was currently occupying. "Contact helps."
Rian immediately stood and offered her his seat. "Please, anything. Just help him."
Myra took his seat. She wiped her hand gently across Laurince’s forehead, and he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.
"He’s burning up," she whispered. "We should get a wet rag, something to help cool him down." She made to stand, but Laurince’s hand immediately wrapped around her wrist. The leather fell from his mouth.
"Don’t leave," Laurince croaked, chest heaving. The whites of his eyes were streaked with red as he looked up at her.
"I’ll go," Rian offered, pressing a gentle hand on her shoulder before leaving.
Myra settled on the bed. "I’m so sorry, Laurince," she said, voice trembling as tears bit the backs of her eyes.
"It’s not your"—he hissed out in pain—"fault."
Frowning, Myra dug deeper into her core. She found every droplet of power she could and poured it into Laurince. She would give him every drop if she could. Anything that would help him. Anything that would save him.
Laurince’s eyes snapped shut once more as agony rippled across his face, his muscles contorting.
Silently, she slipped the belt back into his mouth.
She brushed his hair back, wishing she could do more for him, wishing she could make it all go away.
But pain, she had found, was the hardest feeling to extinguish.
Footsteps sounded, but Myra didn’t look to see who it was, as if afraid to take her eyes off Laurince.
"Here’s the tea," Phaia said, placing it on the nightstand.
Myra nodded. Then a rag appeared in front of her, and she grabbed it, mumbling a quiet thank you. She dabbed the damp fabric on Laurince’s forehead. Sweat soaked his entire body.
"We should turn him over so we can clean his back," Rian suggested.
Myra nodded and got up. Laurince groaned as they moved him. The moment they did, Phaia gasped and ran out of the room. Myra faintly heard the handmaiden retching somewhere in the house.
Laurince’s back was even worse than it had been when they had left the castle. Right between his shoulder blades and around the protruding bone, his skin was torn open, a strange liquid oozing from the wound.
Laurince instantly screamed out the moment the wet cloth touched the wound. Myra ripped her hand away, muttering an apology.
"It’s—it’s fine," he said over the belt in between heavy, labored breaths. "Just—be careful."
Nodding, Myra gulped. She lifted the cloth, but she struggled to touch the wounds again. Her hand trembled as it hovered over the raw skin.
Rian placed a hand on her back and reached for the rag. "I can do it," he offered quietly.
"No, I got it," Myra said, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. She returned to her spot on the bed and bit down on her cheek. Gingerly, she dabbed at Laurince’s back. She wiped the blood and liquid from his skin as carefully and as softly as she could while soothing the pain.
Rian brought over a pail of water, and she wrung out the rag.
The water turned dark immediately. Rian hurried out of the room and returned moments later with a fresh pail and a new rag.
She took it, soaked it with the fresh water, and gently laid both rags across Laurince’s back on the two wounds, letting the fabric cool his burning skin.
"I think we’re going to be here for a while," Myra said.
Rian ran a hand over his head and nodded. He glanced at the door, hesitant. "I’ll make sure she’s all right and that any guards outside didn’t hear anything," he said after a second. "Do you…?"
"I got him," Myra reassured. Although Laurince’s breathing was still ragged, his muscles had finally relaxed—at least marginally, allowing him to settle against the bed.
Rian gently squeezed Laurince’s ankle, then left, shutting the door behind him.
Myra looked down at Laurince. His head was turned to the side toward her, his eyes were shut, and deep wrinkles marked his forehead.
Without questioning it, she laid beside him.
The bed was small for the two of them, but she fit when she turned on her side.
She rested her hand beside his, brushing her pinky across his.
His eyelashes fluttered at the touch, but he didn’t open his eyes.
Myra took a shuttering breath and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers. She squeezed his hand gently, letting him know she was there and wasn’t leaving.