Warrior of the Wild(37)

I manage to lift my neck enough to see my bare midriff. No dagger. And my skin looks whole, but underneath I see a purple bruise. I don’t dare try to sit up.

A glass window lets sparse light into the room, and I wonder where in the world the boys managed to find a window. It’s cracked with a shard missing. They’ve stuffed a wad of cloth into the opening, but the window does its job, giving me enough light to see by. A small table and two wooden chairs rest below it. Empty boots look hastily cast aside against the wall, which means—

I turn my neck in the other direction.

There are the boys.

They sleep on top of hides hastily sewn together and stuffed with feathers, their torsos and feet bare. Thank the goddess they kept their pants on. They’re sharing a blanket, and a pang of guilt spreads through me. I must be sleeping on Soren’s mattress and blankets. They’re sharing Iric’s bedding.

I try to make sense of what happened. But after getting wounded, everything is hazy. When did they cut half my shirt off? And where’s my armor?

I made Peruxolo bleed.

The memory surfaces, and I remember my discovery that his power deals with metal. Despite the pain, a bud of hope blooms within my chest.

If a god can bleed, surely he can die.

As delicately as I can manage, I probe the wound. There’s a small lump, and it’s sore to the touch. They must have administered Irrenia’s salve to me, and while it healed the surface, my injury is deep. There’s some bleeding inside.

Will it still kill me?

A deep exhale is followed by the rustling of blankets. Soren rolls over, his eyes already open. They meet mine.

“You pulled through.”

“Was there any doubt I would?” I ask.

“You lost a lot of blood when we pulled the dagger out. Took us forever to clean it up.”

“Us?” comes a new voice. “You mean me. I had to clean it up. You wouldn’t leave her side.” Iric sits up from the mattress and rubs at the back of his neck.

“How did I get here?” I ask.

“I carried you,” Soren says.

“How did you find me?” Another murky memory surfaces. I think I heard the two of them talking. “You followed me. You’ve been following me.”

“He hasn’t done any of his chores since you saved him from those ziken,” Iric says. “He follows you every day until the sun goes down.”

My neck snaps in Soren’s direction.

“Are you really going to be upset about it when I was able to save you?” he asks.

I roll my neck, preferring to stare at the wall than let Soren see me attempt to compose myself. I want to be angry. I am angry. I told him specifically to leave me alone. But mostly I’m angry that I didn’t notice him tailing me.

Instead, I control my initial irritation. “Can you help me stand?” I ask, hating how I have to rely on them for help.

“You’re better off resting until your wound fully heals,” Soren says.

“And how, pray tell, am I to perform basic bodily functions if I remain resting until my wound fully heals?”

He looks away from me, and I imagine him mentally rebuking himself.

Soren stands, and I get a full view of his muscled torso.

I cannot tell a lie.

He is impressive.

All warriors are well built, but with his sapphire eyes, long jawline, and unruly hair, most girls probably wouldn’t be able to look away from him.

But me?

I stare at my toes until Soren pulls on his boots and shirt and stands before me. He reaches both hands down to me, and I hold up my own hands to meet him.

His calluses cover my calluses. They’re in the exact same places as mine from so much ax-wielding. But I can’t help but think of how similar they feel to the only other boy who has ever held my hand.

Soren hauls me up to my feet in one smooth motion. He doesn’t let go of me right away, like he wants to make sure I’m steady first, but I yank my hands free.

His eyes widen marginally at my reaction, but he seems to shrug it off in the next instant.

“We’ll lower you down the same way we got you and Soren up the tree,” Iric offers. He opens the door in the floor and ties a loop at the end of the rope hanging from the pulley already positioned there.

I look from one boy to the next. “Thank you,” but I don’t really feel the words. I’m too concerned about what is about to happen, how there will be nothing between me and a fifteen-foot drop except two almost strangers.

If they’d wanted to hurt you, they would have done it when you were unconscious, I assure myself. It doesn’t make the discomfort go away.

I suppose there’s something to be said for pain. As soon as my full weight is pressing into the loop, I forget all about my fears. I can’t think of anything except the pulsing bruise below my heart, the rope digging into my thighs.

When my feet blessedly hit the bottom, I untangle myself from the sling. Two more sets of feet hit the ground as both boys join me.

“Do you already have a spot?” I ask, certain they must.

“Down that trail.” Iric points. “Can’t miss it.”

“Will you be able to”—Soren gestures below my navel—“by yourself?”

My face heats up. “I’ll manage.”

I stride down the trail, and behind me I hear a smack.