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That may be, but I don’t want him around right now. I can’t bear the attention when I’m doing everything I can to keep myself together.
I strike up a fire as I talk. The wait for the water to boil might just kill me. “Please, go to Petrik. I’ve got this.”
Kellyn stands there for a few seconds longer before leaving.
I thought I’d already experienced the worst thing that would ever happen to me. Seeing Temra injured so severely was horrible, but having to hold down my baby sister while the healer cauterizes the wound is much worse.
Feeling her fight against me, hearing her screams, knowing I’m helping to cause it.
It breaks me.
Temra loses consciousness after it’s done, the medicine the healer administered finally kicking in, and I hold her to me, wrapping her in my arms while the wound at her side is stitched up.
The first thing I note when I’m fully awake is that I don’t feel sticky with blood anymore.
I’m in a fresh shirt and pants. My body has been wiped clean of all blood and sweat. But I still feel dirty in a way I can’t place at first.
Then I remember.
I killed people yesterday. Kymora hurt my sister. I hurt inside. Every part of me that feels aches.
When I twist my head to the side, I see Kellyn kneeling on the floor, his head slumped on the bed beside me, propped up in his arms.
His eyes rise sleepily when I prod him.
“Temra?” I ask.
“She’s all right. She’s sleeping next door.”
“Kymora?”
“Bound and kept in my parents’ garden shed. They know everything now.”
I rise slowly, my muscles straining just with that simple task. “Take me to my sister.”
I follow him down the little hallway to the room next door. Inside, the healer is in a rocking chair, dozing. Petrik is out on the floor. My sister looks clean and fresh on the bed, her arm and side bound heavily.
Ignoring the hand Kellyn tries to touch me with, I go to Temra, slide into the bed next to her. I let my hand brush over her hair, kiss the back of her head, push myself against her until I can feel her heat. Feel that she’s alive and all right.
Both Petrik and the healer rouse when they hear my crying.
“She’s alive,” I say. The healer had said something about surviving the first night being crucial.
“I’m keeping her unconscious,” the healer says, “because the pain will be unbearable right now, and if she fidgets about, she could start bleeding again.”
“That’s good,” Petrik says before I can. He stands up to the bed, looking down into Temra’s face.
“You should prepare yourselves.”
We turn to the healer at the same time a horrible cough shakes Temra’s entire body. Blood slides out the side of her mouth. I dab it away with the sleeve of my shirt.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I ask. “She survived the night.”
“I didn’t expect her to,” the healer admits. “She lost a lot of blood, and her wounds were more severe than I originally thought. While I’ve stitched up her side, the sword nicked the lung. Blood is trickling in. She will continue to cough it up.” A pause. “It’s not a wound that will heal, and there is nothing moreI can do for her, except to make her comfortable. She doesn’t have longer than a week.”
“What?”
“I can wake her when you’re ready to say your goodbyes.”
