Reiya swallowed hard against the nausea twisting in her gut. “I’ll do it.”
The wagon felt smaller than before, the air stifling with the coppery tang of blood and the acrid sting of venom. Heat pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. Outside, chaos raged—clashing steel, the sharp cries of the wounded, the eerie crackle of flames consuming the camp. It should’ve been deafening, but within these thin walls, it was distant, muted. A fragile cocoon of battle and survival.
Reiya hovered over the cot, hands trembling as she pressed down on Kaelen’s shoulders. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his skin burning beneath her touch. The dim lamplight threw shifting shadows over his face, highlighting the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow.
Ru Rong worked quickly, laying out her tools with practiced efficiency. “If we don’t remove the arrow, the venom will spread faster.”
Su Lian’s expression darkened. “Pulling it out risks tearing muscle—damaging a major artery. And so close to the heart?—”
“It’s risky, but poison is a certain death.”
The weight of their words pressed down on her, but before she could speak, a low groan escaped Kaelen’s lips. His head turned slightly, golden lashes fluttering weakly. His eyes, hazy but stubborn, flickered open.
“Take it . . . out,” he rasped, barely audible.
She leaned in, her heart twisting at the sight of him, pain etchedinto every feature. “Kai,” she whispered, gripping his hand, his fingers barely curling around hers. “You’re awake.”
Su Lian hesitated, then stepped forward, hovering above him. “Alright, Kai, we’ll remove the arrow. We’ll have to use cupping to extract the venom. It’ll be painful, and the bleeding could be . . .” She didn’t finish; didn’t need to.
Kaelen’s brow furrowed. “Do it,” he ground out, fingers twitching against Reiya’s. “I won’t . . . die lying down. Not tonight.”
Her grip tightened. His hand was weak, but the fire in his eyes still burned.
“He’s conscious,” she said, turning to Su Lian. “Can he handle the pain?”
“He’ll have to,” the woman replied briskly, already preparing the glass cups and flame. She met Reiya’s gaze. “Hold him down. He will thrash.”
She braced herself, pressing her weight against him. Beneath her hands, his Sunborn tattoo shimmered faintly—too dim to be a comfort now.
Ru Rong positioned herself by his shoulder, fingers curling around the arrow’s shaft. Her gaze met his, unwavering. “This will hurt. A lot. You must stay still.”
Kaelen exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. “I expect . . . nothing less . . . than agony.”
The arrow came free with a sickening squelch, dark blood surging in its wake. Kaelen’s body arched violently, a raw, guttural cry ripping from his throat. Muscles spasmed, his neck straining against the pain.
“Hold him down!” Su Lian snapped.
Reiya clenched her jaw, pressing harder, her teeth chattering as she fought to keep him still.
“Stay with me,” she murmured, voice trembling. “Stay with me, Kaelen.”
His head lolled back, lashes fluttering shut.
Ru Rong pressed a clean cloth over the wound, her hands sure and unshaken. “Don’t let him move.”
Su Lian held the flame to the glass, the heat making the cup glow.Reiya didn’t dare move as she watched her press it against Kaelen’s chest, the suction pulling dark, poisoned blood from the wound. A wet gurgle filled the air, the sound turning her stomach, but she kept her eyes on him.
Outside, the battle raged on, firelight flickering against the wagon walls. But inside, nothing else existed except Kaelen’s shallow breaths, the trembling rise and fall of his chest, and the desperate hope he’d survive the night.
Reiya’s hands trembled, but she pressed down firmly, grounding him as his body twitched beneath her touch.
“Is it working?” she whispered, her voice strained.
“Yes,” Su Lian replied tightly, her tone clipped with concentration. “But he’s losing strength. We need to close the wound soon.”
Kaelen’s eyes fluttered open again, glassy with pain and fever. His gaze found Reiya, and his hand weakly gripped hers. “Alarik,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Where . . . ?”
“He’s fighting the mercenaries,” she replied softly, her other hand brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “He’ll be fine.”
