Lord Lorne squeezed his eyes shut again as the physician swiped at the now bleeding gash. “It’s my pride I was thinking of, more than your sensibilities.”
“I think neither of us has the luxury of pride in our current situation.” Adeline wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands until Jelsa returned with the basin and water. It seemed presumptuous to offer him comfort.
“Perhaps.” He bit off the word before curling in on himself under the physician’s administrations. “I certainly won’t have much by way of dignity left.”
Adeline wasn’t sure how to respond to the joking, lighter note in his voice. She wouldn’t have expected it, given their short acquaintance, the fact that they were enemies, and his present injured state.
She let the pause linger as the physician finished cleaning the gashes across Lord Lorne’s stomach.
“What caused those?” She gestured toward the gashes, now seeping blood.
“Sylon cat.” Lord Lorne’s voice was slightly slurred,his eyes closed once again. Some of the tension had faded from his face, his muscles more relaxed than they’d been moments ago. “They set sylon cats on us to capture us. One attacked as I was surrendering.”
“And your back?” Adeline wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And yet she would be queen within days, if not hours. She couldn’t shy away from seeing the horrors of things like this.
“Whipped.” The word was so slurred it was barely understandable. “Also beaten.”
“Is something wrong?” Adeline glanced from Lord Lorne, who seemed to be slipping away, to the physician.
“Not to worry. I gave him a tincture to help with the pain. It’s working.” The physician prodded at Lord Lorne’s ribs, which earned a low moan and a flinch, though the moan wasn’t nearly as loud as the cries from earlier.
“The stuff feels nice,” Lord Lorne murmured. “Not as nice as a fleech dragon. I can see why you’d kill for them. But they’re precious. Can’t be…be…”
He seemed to have lost his train of thought, his breathing slowing and steadying.
According to the legends she’d heard, fleech dragons had a magic that eased pain, sent a peaceful calm through a person, and perhaps even healed, if the stories coming out of Lalsacia were true. She’d never experienced it herself, of course. But it was one of the reasons fleech dragons were so highly prized and worth starting a war for, at least to people of her grandfather’s ilk.
There was something tragically ironic about starting a war over dragons who gave peace and healing with their magic.
“How bad off is he?” Adeline took in the gashes, the bruises, the network of torn skin across his back. Had she married a lord who was promptly going to die on her?
As long as he lived long enough for the crown to land on her head, she’d fulfill the law. She wasn’t required to remarry to remain queen, although she would eventually need an heir.
Yet that wouldn’t help her forge peace with Lalsacia. It might even hurt her chances, if the Lalsacian emissary promptly died after she married him, even if his death wasn’t her doing.
“While he isn’t in mortal danger, I am concerned.” The physician pointed to the gashes. “These are enflamed and should have been cleaned long before now. Same for his back. Several of his ribs are broken, and I can only guess how much bruising and damage he sustained to his internal organs. He will need a great deal of rest, and we can only hope the infection hasn’t set in too deeply.”
The door opened, and Jelsa returned with the requested hot water and basin. She balanced the items on the bed next to Adeline and handed her a rag.
Adeline dabbed at the blood on Lord Lorne’s back. After a few minutes, Jelsa nudged her aside and took over, scrubbing far harder and more thoroughly than Adeline would have.
She didn’t know how long it took to clean all thewounds and bind them with salve and bandages. By the time the physician finished and left with Thaddeus, Adeline blearily cleaned her own hands in the fresh water Jelsa brought, dismissed her maid, and collapsed onto the other side of the bed, too tired to even care that there was a man sleeping nearby.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Highness. Your Highness.”
Someone was shaking her, gently at first, then more firmly. Adeline groaned and blinked into the fuzzy brightness of a candle held far too close to her face. “What is it?”
“Your grandfather has arrived, milady.” Jelsa released Adeline’s shoulder and stepped back. “You will wish to hurry. He will send someone to fetch you at any moment.”
The words jolted Adeline awake so thoroughly that she found herself on her feet before she’d fully registered what she was doing.
She could not have one of the lords invade her room in the name of bringing her to the king. Right now, it would be best if no one knew she had a Lalsacian lord in her bed. At the moment, the fact that he wasn’t in the dungeon was somewhat treasonous as she was going against the king’s orders. It would be fine once she was queen and could undo those orders,but until her grandfather died, she’d be in a precarious position.
She glanced over her shoulder at where Lord Lorne lay still on the bed, his face pale despite his darker skin tone. The only sign that he was still alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket.
Jelsa hurriedly tucked a few strands of Adeline’s hair back into her braid. “I wish I could do more, Highness.”
