Brightly Woven(47)

Pascal told two of the young men, “Get the stretcher and tie it between our horses. We can take it slow and steady.”

I watched them lift North as gently as they could onto the stretcher. It sagged beneath his weight, but the thin fabric didn’t rip. I helped Pascal with shaking hands as we tied the rope around him, hoping that was enough to keep him still and safe until we made it into Arcadia.

CHAPTER TEN

With North swaying between them, the other horses couldn’t keep up with Pascal and me. We continued on the dirt path back up to Arcadia, the harsh wind kicking up loose snow from the valley above us and showering us in a coat of white. Closer now, I was finally able to make out the familiar, snow-laden roofs of Arcadia.

“Aphra!” Pascal called. She was waiting for us in the center of the village, a look of horror on her face.

“Get a bed ready,” he told her. “Wayland’s going to need it.”

Lady Aphra guided me through the crowd and up the hill. “Come along,” she murmured, pulling me inside. I looked back, searching for any sign of the other horses. “Rest yourself a bit; you look halfway to death.” She went to work at once, pushing the table and chairs to the far end of the room. She went into her bedroom to retrieve the blankets North and I had slept on for the past few days, and I watched, completely numb, as she unrolled them again.

I should help, I thought, but my body refused to move. I sat on the bedding until she came back with a bundle of bandages and rags, as well as water. She set the basin down, and I scrubbed the mud and dust from my skin. I tied my wild hair back into a loose braid, knotting the string so tightly I nearly snapped it.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and Pascal and another man carried North inside the room. The doctor fussed beside them, red in the face and panting hard as they set North’s unresponsive body down on the bed. I searched his face for any signs of life or changes in his condition; the moment my hand touched his pale, dirty skin, he let out a horrible moan.

“Away—just—go—no one—!” His voice broke off in a tortured groan. “I don’t want you—”

“North,” I said. “Can you hear me? Can I get you anything?”

“No!” he yelled. “Nothing—alone!”

“Don’t be a fool,” Pascal said. “I’ll get you a pain and slumber elixir. This is the curse, not just your wound, Wayland! You need to take them!”

“No!” North thundered. “I won’t…I won’t take it…Make Syd…Make her leave!”

“Not on your life, Wayland North,” I said sternly. “I’ll get you the elixir myself. You’re too out of sorts to make a decision like that.”

“I SAID NO!”

I stood there helplessly as he turned and buried his face in the bed.

“Just go…Just go…,” he whispered brokenly. “No one…”

I felt Aphra’s hands on my shoulders, but I shrugged them off.

“All of you,” I said, my voice surprisingly clear. “All of you, get out.”

“Let me help,” Pascal pleaded. North shook his head as if stuck in some fever dream. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, not even his magister.

“I’ll need my bag,” I said. “I have my own elixirs he might be willing to take.”

“I have it,” Lady Aphra said, her face pale in the candlelight. “Pascal, come with me.”

“And what gives her the right to stay?” he demanded. “She’s known him for two months—I’ve known this boy his entire life!” I had a sudden vision of Pascal’s younger self, putting a small, dark-haired boy to bed and staying beside him through long nights of pain. This had been his role. His were the hands that had soothed away the ache and the vulnerability in North.

I took his hands in mine.

“I’ll take care of him.”

Pascal shook his head. “No, it’s not your place.”

“It is now,” I said firmly.

Aphra took his arm and began to lead him from the room. The door closed gently behind them.

I sat back down on the bed. My lips pressed lightly against the pallid skin of his forehead, brushing his hair back away from his face.

“Syd…” His voice shook. “I don’t want…” It looked as though he would rip the pillow between his hands in two.

“I made more of the pain elixir. Remember how much better you felt after you took it last time? I have some sleeping draft, too.” I rubbed my hand along the length of his arm. I nodded to Aphra as she left my bag just inside the door.

“No,” he grunted. “I don’t want—!” He took in a great breath, holding it in. “You’re not allowed to see…” A barely contained cry. “Please, please just leave me….”

I felt his body shaking against mine; he was deathly pale, and a thin sheen of sweat spread across his face. He brought his hands up to clench his hair, pulling as hard as he could. A guttural scream escaped his lips.

“North!” I said. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

His tortured breathing slowed long enough for me to seize the moment. I pulled him up and slid beneath him. With his head and shoulders resting in my lap, I had better leverage on his arms.