A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(76)

I wiped the wetness from my face and stood. “What’s up?”

“Have a look at his wounds. He needs to be stitched up, but first we need to make sure the poison is gone.”

I stepped around the chair and patted its back so Hannon would walk him over and sit him down. Nyfain’s eyes stayed rooted to me as the guys moved closer, only pulling away when he had to sit. He bent forward, the bandages having already been taken off. No threads of black wove through the exposed pink flesh. Hannon had done his usual good job of cleaning it, too. No dirt, no dried blood.

“Yeah, he’s good.” I put my hand on Nyfain’s shoulder. His muscles smoothed a little under my palm, as though he were relaxing. “We’re getting to this in plenty of time, so they shouldn’t scar.”

“Let me guess, you’ve somehow managed to speed up healing or smooth out scars with your plants,” Nyfain drawled.

“Both, yeah. You haven’t noticed any scars on me, have you?”

“One at the top of your right breast. Another on your left butt cheek—”

“Right, yes, okay. Enough,” I said.

Hannon’s eyebrows shot up, and my face heated. Those scrapes hadn’t been bad enough for me to suffer the embarrassment of Hannon doctoring it. Clearly Nyfain had been paying attention.

“Well…right.” I dug my fingers into Nyfain’s skin. “Except for the places I didn’t have Hannon stitch up, obviously.”

“Let’s get him to the bucket, and you can wash him down,” Hannon said, stepping to the side of Nyfain. “I’ll stitch him up after that. Then he needs rest.”

“I can’t rest here. I need to get back to the castle. I’ll be—”

“You’ll rest here because it’s much too far to crawl,” I said, my tone infused with power and brooking no argument.

I could see the vein in the side of his jaw dance in irritation. He didn’t comment, which meant he’d do as I said.

“Also, I am not going to clean him. You’re the nurse, Hannon. You do it. I need to figure out something for Father.”

“Finley, may I speak with you?” Hannon gestured me away from Nyfain.

“What’s up?” I asked when we were a small distance away, around the corner of the house and in the side yard.

He spoke softly, his eyes assessing. “I would normally be happy to clean up a patient, as you know, to make sure it is done properly. But he asked earlier that you do it, and now you’re trying to get out of it. It’s clear you two are playing games with each other, and I do not plan to get in the way.”

“But—”

He held up his hand. “I think you need to see this through, wherever it may lead.”

“It could lead to death, Hannon.”

“More than half of your ventures out of doors could always lead to death. You’ve never shied away from those.”

“This is different.”

He studied me for a moment. “Good. You need something new in your life. Now, remember to do a good and thorough job on him.” Shivers coated my skin at the thought of what Nyfain had said about the salon. “Gashes from dirty claws infused with poison are a prime source of infection. It seems like he needs to get better in a hurry. Whatever games you’re playing, you need to concentrate on what’s important. His health. Put that first.”

I breathed out slowly and nodded, nothing more than an annoyed jerk of my head.

Hannon took a beat and then asked, “Will you go back to the castle with him when he goes?”

No was on the tip of my tongue. It was sitting there, ready to be cast out into the world. But…the truth was…I didn’t know. There were many reasons to stay in the village, and there were a few reasons to get to the castle, mostly to do with the gardening resources available to me there. That could really help my efforts to find a cure for the sickness, especially considering the crowded plant might be the missing link, and I didn’t have much of that.

There was only one reason I was waffling, though—that big stack of muscle sitting in my backyard, covered in scars and ink, needing help protecting his kingdom. I wanted to provide that help, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to resist giving him the rest of me as well.





17





Hannon and I got Nyfain into the little wooden washing shed on the side of the house, an outdoor facility close to the water pump. Within, a smoldering fire heated a cast-iron pot—we called it “the bucket”—filled with water. The floor was made of wooden slats set over gravel, providing some drainage. We rallied the fire in the morning, took turns washing up, and then let the coals die until the next morning. At this point in the day, they were glowing embers, and the water wouldn’t be more than warmish.

We stopped in the doorway, and I paused for Nyfain to make a disgusted sound or comment. Despite the kingdom’s fall from grace, he was still a prince. He lived in a castle with indoor facilities. Even my lonely tower had a washroom with a nice tub.

Instead, he put his hand against the frame and said, “I’ll need that chair.”

“Of course.” Hannon ducked away, leaving us standing there in silence for a moment.

“I know you’re used to finer things,” I started lamely. “This is what we use, though.”