Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Was I wrong?” Shadows stretched from her, parting them from the observing demons and clearing a quick path back to Severin’s home. He walked quickly, each step jostling her wound, and Aurelie bit down hard to keep from crying out.
“I’m—” she started, but Severin cut her off.
“Just focus on staying conscious.”
Aurelie felt weightless by the time they reached Severin’s home. She dimly registered the cool stone walls and the scent of burning sage as Lute pushed ahead, obeying as he gave a series of orders to find clean bandages and supplies.
Severin carried Aurelie into his study, barely pausing to kick aside a stack of books that blocked the path to the chaise. He knocked the lyre to the side and laid her on the worn velvet cushions, the movement sending another spike of pain through her side.
“Don’t move,” he snapped, pinning her shoulders down with a hand.
His claws grazed her skin, their sharp edges surprisingly restrained as he tore her dress open.
Without ceremony, he turned toward the supplies Lute had dumped onto the nearest table and snatched up the flask, pouring a splash onto a rag.
The acrid scent of alcohol filled the air.
“Hold her down,” he commanded, then to Aurelie said, “This is going to hurt.”
“It already hurts.” Her breath hitched as tendrils of shadows wound around her wrists and ankles, stilling her. The moment the rag touched her side, white-hot pain flared through her body. She cried out, her hands instinctively jerking upright to smack him away. The shadows held her down.
“If you don’t want to die of infection, stay still,” he ordered, speaking through a hiss of his own pain.
The rag came away crimson, the blood soaking through the cloth faster than Severin could wipe it clean. He cursed, tossing it aside and reaching for another. The flask clinked as he doused the fresh cloth, pressing it firmly against her side to stanch the bleeding.
“Lute,” he snapped, not looking up. “Tear that linen into strips.”
Lute didn’t argue, moving to the pile of supplies with a flick of her wrist. Shadows curled around the edges of the linen bandages, holding them in place as she did as instructed.
Aurelie whimpered, gritting her teeth against the fire burning through her side. She tried to focus on the coolness of the shadows pinning her; they were becoming more difficult to focus on with each passing second. “I think I’m going to faint.”
Severin grabbed a needle and thread, holding it up to the hearth’s flames. “Just try to breathe. It’s this or death.”
Aurelie’s head lolled to the side as she focused on the sound of her own breathing, fighting to keep it steady.
The first prick of the needle was sharp, but the real pain came when Severin pulled the thread through.
Fire lanced through her side, radiating outward like molten steel beneath her skin.
She screamed, jerking against the shadows that held her in place.
“Keep still,” Severin ordered, his voice tight. “This hurts me nearly as much as it does you.”
“I’ll kill you,” she bit out through gritted teeth, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.
“You’re welcome to try once I’ve finished.”
Aurelie seized with each stitch, every tug of the thread sending fresh waves of agony rippling through her. Her body jerked, and the shadows binding her wrists and ankles drew taut in response. Tears blurred her vision, and her head fell back against the chaise as she gasped for air.
“Severin—” she started, her voice breaking. “I can’t—”
“You can. Just a bit longer.”
Another stitch. Her hands flexed against the shadows, fingers curling into fists as she tried to hold on.
Lute, hovering nearby, gave a dramatic sigh. “If you want her to stay conscious, maybe don’t make her feel like she’s being sewn back together with a rusted nail.”
“Then find something to numb the pain,” Severin growled, not taking his eyes off Aurelie’s wound. His hands were steady, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his own aching.
Lute rummaged through the study, eventually settling on a flask. She sniffed it, grimaced, then crouched beside Aurelie and tilted the flask toward her. “Drink. It’ll take the edge off.”
Aurelie’s trembling lips parted as Lute tipped the flask to them. The burn of the liquor down her dry throat was nearly as painful as the stitching, but it was sharp enough to momentarily distract her.
Severin didn’t pause, threading another stitch. “Aurelie,” he said, his voice lower now, his words cutting through the fog of pain. “Look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered open, finding his gaze.
“One more,” he promised. “Just one more.”
She nodded. The final stitch sent another shock through her, but she didn’t cry out. Her body slumped, exhausted and trembling, as Severin tied off the thread with a deft hand. He grabbed a fresh linen strip from Lute, binding the wound tightly to stem any further bleeding.
“It’s done,” he said finally, sitting back on his heels. His wings drooped, flecks of blood still clinging to their edges. He wiped his bloodied hands on a discarded rag, slumping back against the chaise. “You’ll live.”
Aurelie exhaled, wincing as the wound throbbed. “Where in Light’s name did you learn to do that?”
“I’ve seen my fair share of battlefields.” He tossed the rag aside. “Why the hell did you go back to the tavern?”
As sharp as the pain still was, Aurelie was slowly beginning to catch her breath. She took another long drink from the flask, letting her body be numbed from the inside out.
“Your alchemist’s chest,” she admitted after a while. “You were distracted, and I was tired of waiting.” Her body was relaxing now, exhaustion making her lids heavy.
Severin scoffed, looking toward his broken shutters. “You clever little minx. Where’s the chest now?”
“I dropped it when that bastard grabbed me.” Her fists clenched weakly at her sides, darkness beginning to take over. “It’s still outside the cellar.”
Severin drew in a mighty yawn. “Then I suppose I ought to fetch it.” He dragged himself up, swaying on his feet and having to grab the wall to steady himself. “Rest, Aurelie. I swear that no harm will befall you now that I’m here.”
She knew she had only the bond to thank, yet as Aurelie allowed herself to sink into the cushions and for sleep to pull her under, she was surprised to find that she believed Severin.
A demon, promising to keep me safe?
Perhaps it truly was the end of times.
Severin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so weak.
Aurelie was already asleep by the time he returned with both her dagger and the alchemist’s chest. He laid the blade gently beside her before sinking to the floor beside the chaise. Lute was perched over his bonded, red eyes gleaming as she watched her sleep.
“This is partially your fault, you know,” he said, ignoring the way her glare sliced at him. “You should have been watching her.”
“Blame yourself. Bringing her here was your idea, not mine.”
He ignored the comment to glance down to Aurelie’s crumpled form. She’d bested him twice now, and Severin despised the thrill that gave him.
“She’s clever,” he said, finding himself paying greater attention to her now that she was asleep.
She was sturdier in frame than he’d given her credit for.
Her body was strong and lean, hardened from years of wielding a blade.
Her braid had come half undone, a tumble of white strands that splayed around her.
This was the first time Severin had seen her look so at peace, and he was captivated by the gentleness of her face when she wasn’t trying to bite him or fillet someone.
A strand of hair lay dangerously close to her lips, and although he knew he shouldn’t, he found himself sitting up to brush it back. It was pale as cream, just like an angel’s.
Her eyes, however … It seemed she hadn’t yet noticed what was changing within them.
“You were sloppy.” Knees drawn to her chest, Lute’s head tilted as she observed Severin. Having been watching Aurelie, he quickly looked away. “The girl has been here for only a few hours, and already three of our people are dead.”
“They knew what they were risking when they went after her,” he began, only for Lute’s growl to deepen in the back of her throat.
“She’s your problem, not theirs. You let yourself get distracted.”
He couldn’t disagree, though not for the reason she believed. It was true he’d slept with Melisandre, though that wasn’t what had kept him in the lustborn’s bed.
He had felt Aurelie.
Her curiosity, the pleasure building as though it were his own …
He’d felt every ounce of it, intoxicated, and he’d let himself get too carried away.
“It won’t happen again,” he swore. “I’ve decided to take up celibacy.”
Lute laughed at this, and Severin felt a smile tug at his lips. Rare were the days he could make her truly smile, but they were always worth it.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” The blue-skinned demon knocked her boot against Aurelie’s hand. The young knight only snored harder, slumbering deeply. “I wish you’d never brought her here, Severin. Do not let her be our downfall.”
“I won’t.” He lifted his chin toward the window, a deep tiredness settling over him. “I’ll handle the girl. And as for the angel…” He glanced out the window, stomach pinching tight. “I suspect he’ll be here soon.”