A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(23)

My stomach felt like it had tripped over a cliff. I knew that voice.

I snapped up.

Before me stood my alarmingly handsome cellmate. Not dead after all, but not far from it. He was in nothing but a pair of trousers that had been shredded at one calf and were caked in dirt. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and grime, and he held himself against a shelf with one arm.

It was a terrible time to notice, but his chest and abdomen were brilliantly sculpted. Shiny with sweat and dusted with a few fine dark curls. His cut arms flexed as he gritted his teeth and held himself upright. Despite his clear pain, he gave me a self-assured smile, which was both charming and infuriating at once. He had definitely caught me gawking.

I tried to avert my eyes—like a lady—when I saw it. His other hand pressed tightly to his right side. Sticky blood seeping in between his fingers and down his rib cage, pooling over his hip bone and into his waistband.

I rushed to his side, but thought better of wrapping my arms around his hulking form—even injured, he looked like he could crush me with one hand if he wanted to—and instead guided him lightly onto the infirmary bed and slammed the door shut behind us. His body felt like chilled steel against my hands. The lack of heat radiating from him worried me. Too cold and clammy.

He’d lost a lot of blood.

The stranger closed his eyes with a pained grunt.

“What happened?” I asked as I filled a bowl with warm water and antiseptic. How in the world was he out of his cell and wandering the castle? With guards at every turn, in every nook and corridor?

“Just a tussle. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Anxiety crawled up my neck like spiders. “Can you show me?”

He released his hand from his side with caution, and I was instantly grateful for the wartime horrors I had witnessed these past few years back in Abbington—not so much for the medical experience, but so I knew not to gasp out loud at the gore and frighten my patient.

Keeping him calm was as important as stitching him up.

A massive chunk of flesh had been torn out right between his ribs. I could almost see the bone beneath the muscle.

“Is it the worst you’ve seen, bird?”

“Not by half. As you said, just a tussle. I’ll have you stitched up in no time.” I kept my voice relaxed as he opened his eyes and watched me gather my supplies.

He recoiled a little when my cloth first touched the wound. I could tell from the dozens of other scars on his arms and torso that this wasn’t his first tussle. Still, when he flinched again, I felt the need to distract him, as he had done for me that first night in the dungeon.

“How did you get out?” I asked as I cleaned the gash. “I thought maybe something had happened…”

“Aw, bird. Were you worried about me? Scared you’d find my head on a stake?”

My mouth twitched, but I couldn’t think of a witty barb fast enough. I actually had been worried about him, or at least what his fate meant for my own. His brows quirked up, and he quickly averted his eyes. But the flicker of disbelief I had seen in them surprised me.

Regardless, he had dodged my question, clearly uninterested in sharing his escape route.

Selfish prick.

“Do they know you made it out of the castle… or back into it? Why are you even still here?” I asked.

“Once I got this nasty thing, there weren’t too many other places for me to go.” He winced as I scraped dirt out of a particularly thrashed section of his side.

“So you doubled back to the keep you just escaped from? I figured someone like you would just keep running.”

“So, someone very stupid?”

“You said it, not me.”

He frowned.

But I couldn’t stop checking the infirmary door. Would Barney or Bert or another soldier barge in at any moment and kill him? Or me, for helping him?

I had to work very, very quickly.

“In case you missed it, bird, there aren’t any towns or villages for miles. What odds would you give me running for days with this kind of injury?”

“Aren’t you worried they’ll catch you back here?”

He grimaced while I worked, lifting his left shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not the soldiers’ top priority. We are at war, you know.”

I swallowed thickly, hoping he was right.

He raised a curious brow in my direction. “You don’t have to worry. They won’t punish you for stitching me up.”

“You don’t know that,” I hissed, my eyes darting to the door once more.

“So then why help me? If you think it could be your death sentence?”

My face flushed. He was right. This was a terrible idea.

“Because. You’re hurt. And I’m a healer.”

His gaze raked over my face. “You’re very moral, bird. What’s someone like you doing in an Onyx dungeon?”

Reluctance pulled my bottom lip into my mouth in thought. But he had successfully escaped his cell. I had been looking for a way out, and here it was. Maybe he would trade a secret for a secret. It seemed a worthy currency for a kingdom such as this one.

“My brother stole something from the king, and I made a deal to save his life,” I said, eyes still on his wound.

After a too-long silence, I peered up to see the man’s face had hardened. “Why?”