Page 217 of Blood Curse

“Lenora.”

She met my eyes.

“Thank you.”

A complicated expression crossed her face. “Rest. We can learn how to accept gratitude later.”

She closed the door behind her.

Elias cut away the rest of my shirt. The wound had narrowed to a raw line under the pad. He washed it, bound it again and made me drink blood from a glass while Bryony sat on the mattress beside my hip.

Mara changed the dressing around Bryony’s scalp. The punctures were shallow but numerous. I counted each red mark until she lowered the clean linen over them.

“Stop glaring,” Bryony said. “You didn’t put them there.”

I brought her hand to my mouth and pressed my lips to her knuckles.

The answer I could give would become blame, apology and an argument neither of us needed. The touch said what mattered. I was here. I saw the hurt. I would not pretend it was smaller because we survived it.

Her fingers softened in mine.

Elias checked my pulse once more. “Sleep. Healing will do the rest if you allow it.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Bryony asked.

“You have my permission to sit on him.”

Her attention settled on my bandaged chest. “I’ll find an uninjured bit.”

Elias almost smiled, then took Mara and the bloodied dressings with him.

Quiet settled over the room after the door shut.

It was different from the silence in the garden. This one held Bryony’s breathing, rain against the windows and the faint scrape of furniture being moved somewhere below. The court was rebuilding without waiting for me to direct each pair of hands.

My eyes closed.

When they opened again, the lamps had burned lower. Dry blankets covered me, and clean sleep trousers had replaced the soaked ones. The pain in my chest had dulled to a tight pull, and the bandage showed only a small dark stain.

Bryony lay beside me on top of the covers, wrapped in one of my black robes. The sleeves swallowed her hands, and the hem was bunched around her bare feet. Her cheek rested close to my shoulder. One hand was spread over my ribs, safely away from the wound.

I touched the fresh bandage around her head.

Her eyes opened.

“How long?” I asked.

“Less than an hour.” She pushed herself up, searching my face. “Your heart stopped in the garden.”

The blunt words deserved the truth. “I know.”

“I thought we’d broken it and the bastard had taken you anyway. I couldn’t feel anything from the Crown. I couldn’t hear it. There was only your body in my arms and Elias reaching for the wound.”

I slid my hand around the back of her neck. Her pulse beat fast against my fingers.

“I felt you,” I said. “Not magic. Your hand on my chest. Your voice somewhere close. Then the pain came back.”

Her eyes shone, but she didn’t look away. “You make pain sound almost welcome.”