Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(8)

“Can you keep him alive?” Tensyn asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was clipped.

A cautious hope welled within Jack.

She slammed a basket of fruit on the kitchen table and retrieved more food from the pantry, still clutching her shotgun. The other soldiers, except for Tensyn and Ginko, sat and began eating without ceremony. Jasminda grabbed a bowl, filled it with water, and gathered towels and a knife.

“Back porch,” she said curtly. “The floors in here are already filthy.”

“My apologies, miss,” Tensyn said with a genteel bow. “I’ll have my men be more careful with the state of your home.”

The sergeant motioned to Ginko, who pushed Jack forward. His injuries screamed, but he remained silent. Jasminda’s lips pursed and she spun around, leading the way out the back to the porch. She motioned to the top step with her chin. Jack was pushed down until he sprawled across the stairs, gasping for breath.

“Untie him,” she said, staring at his lashed wrists. “I need to check his wounds.”

Ginko pulled a knife from his boot to cut the rope. The sharp edges of the pain had been bound by whatever spell she’d sung a few moments before, but the weakness in his limbs couldn’t be ignored. The lack of food and water, the days of walking and hiding, had all left him teetering on the edge of his endurance. She too had deep circles under her eyes, and he wondered what she’d been doing up on the mountain.

As she settled next to him, his awareness of her pulsed like an extra sense. She smelled of cool mountain air, pine, and something light and feminine that he couldn’t place. He closed his eyes and inhaled her nearness, allowing it to soothe and calm him. He imagined himself far away, in the barracks he’d called home since childhood or maybe even farther away, floating on his back in the Delaveen Ocean, the sun warming his face.

The vision faded when her fingertips grazed his forehead.

“Does that hurt?” she whispered, her voice gentle. He opened his eyes to find her closer than he’d expected. Unable to find his voice, he shook his head.

“Take that off,” she said, pointing to his shirt. He had the absurd desire to chuckle. How many times had he longed to hear a woman ordering him to take off his shirt? What he’d felt of her touch so far had been very soft . . . She must be soft all over. He’d never imagined a Lagrimari girl could be so lovely. The coils of her hair called to his fingertips and—

Tensyn’s oily voice broke through Jack’s musings. “Has your tribute day been scheduled?” He and Ginko stood in the doorway behind him, and Jack hated having anyone at his back. That kind of sloppiness had literally been beaten out of him. He blamed the pain and the fatigue.

His bruised fingers faltered on the tiny buttons as he shrugged awkwardly out of his shirt. Once again, she assessed his injuries impassively, though he suspected things were quite a bit worse than yesterday when she’d seen him.

“No,” she said, answering Tensyn.

“And your family?”

“Dead.” The unexpressive mask of her face slipped for an instant, and he glimpsed a cavernous well of grief in her eyes.

“May they find serenity in the World After,” Tensyn intoned.

Jasminda repeated the blessing. Jack’s eyes met hers briefly before she looked away. “Lie back,” she told him.

She dipped a cloth in the water and ran it across his chest, cleaning away the blood and grime. He suppressed a groan at the incredible coolness of the water on his skin, relishing in it until she stopped suddenly. He craned his neck down to see what had caught her attention. The bullet wound was far worse today, the skin black with infection, blood and pus seeping out.

The screen door slammed. He looked up to find the two of them on the porch alone.

“What is your name?” She pitched her voice low, speaking directly into his ear in perfect Elsiran as she continued cleaning his chest.

He took hold of her wrist, stilling her hand. Even the former POWs spoke only a broken version of Elsiran. How had she been able to learn it when no one in Lagrimar spoke the language? She shook free of his grip and continued cleaning his chest and face. Inside, the soldiers chortled, ensuring they would not be overheard.

“Jack,” he whispered, scanning her face desperately. “Are you a Keeper of the Promise?”

She frowned, darting a look at the door. “No. I don’t know what that is.”

“How can you—”

“This is not Lagrimar.” The door opened again, and Ginko emerged, taking a stance with his arms folded while he chewed on a stick of jerky.

Jasminda switched back to Lagrimari, speaking quietly. “I need to cut away the dead flesh from the wound. Otherwise the infection will kill you.”

He nodded faintly, still trying to process her last words. If they weren’t in Lagrimar, that meant they had all passed through the Mantle without knowing it. He’d been on home soil the whole time. That must be why she’d acted as if he were deranged.

Escape was so close. The despair threatening to pull him under faded away like mist in the sun.

“My Earthsong is not strong. I can’t both stop the bleeding and dull the pain.”

He met her worried gaze and smiled, though the action reopened one of the cuts on his lip. She frowned, giving him that look that meant she thought he was delirious again. Perhaps he was.