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Chapter 13
Eloise had spent several hours helping the bandits, washing them, sewing their wounds, disinfecting them. Nobody was hurt badly enough to die on the spot. But later, the time would come for fever, Eloise knew. So none of them were completely out of the woods yet.
When the main floor cleared and the men were taken to their beds, Eloise slowly went up to her room. This wasn’t the first time she’d ever cared for the wounded. She often had to take care of her brother after one mission or another. But she had never seen a carnage like this. Half a dozen men, groaning and screaming in agony as she wiped out blood and tried to suture their wounds.
She leaned over the washbasin and squeezed her eyes shut, the cries of men still audible in her head. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and she gripped the washbasin painfully. So much blood. So many hurt. Why was this carnage even necessary? She opened her eyes, and a couple of tears plopped into the washbasin.
Eloise took a deep breath. She picked up a pitcher of water and started carefully washing blood off her hands. The putrid smell of it, the sight of red, made her nauseous. She took the bar of soap and started scrubbing harder.
When she was done, she looked down at her bloody clothes and wanted to rip them apart.So much blood.
Eloise tugged at her clothes in frustration, taking them off, not caring if she ripped any of them. She’d have to burn this gown anyhow. She threw it in the hearth and took a bit of fresh cloth, dipped it in the water from the pitcher, and washed the blood away from her skin.
It wasn’t enough. She’d need a bath to clean the memories away. She didn’t want to bother anyone at the moment. They had enough to deal with. So she sat on the corner of her bed, naked, washing one tiny speck of blood after another off her skin.
She was still sitting like this, pretending to clean herself—when in reality, she was just staring into nothingness—trying to forget the vision from downstairs when there was a knock on the door.
Eloise jumped in reaction. She frantically looked around the room for her gown, or a chemise, anything.
Another knock.
“A moment, please!”
Who could it be? Perhaps Verity had come by to cry on her shoulder. Eloise wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. The event was traumatizing for everyone.
She ran into her closet, picked up a chemise, and quickly threw it on before going to answer the door. She peeked out of her room, holding the door, so her body was hidden. “Yes?”
She blinked as she saw the tall, dark shadow in the doorway instead of the petite harlot. The shadow took a step forward, staggered, and leaned against the door frame.
“Are you very busy?” Hades’ voice was slurred.
Was he drunk? “No, I am not busy. I was just—” She peered into his face. Hades had given up drinking, hadn’t he? Although after tonight, she wouldn’t blame him. “Is something amiss?”
“No. I just need help.”
He staggered again, and Eloise caught his body against hers. He was incredibly heavy and tall, so carrying him was about as successful as lifting a horse. She leaned most of his weight against the doorjamb.
“Are you hurt?” Eloise patted his body for injuries. His clothing was wet, soaked in blood, but he didn’t seem hurt.
“My hand… I need to bandage it,” he said, the smell of alcohol wafting from his mouth.
“I thought you gave up spirits,” Eloise said as she took his hand in hers and studied his palm. His skin was burnt and blistery. Eloise crinkled her nose. “Why didn’t you get help downstairs!”
“I… didn’t want to bother anyone,” Hades croaked.
“So you decided to get foxed instead?” Eloise let out a frustrated breath. “You need help. I need help! I can’t carry you.”
“I can walk.”
Eloise scoffed. But that wasn’t enough to communicate her frustration. She felt as if steam would come out of her ears and nose. “Where’s your room?”
“Down the corridor. I just need this scratch patched up, and I’ll be well.”
Eloise didn’t answer.A scratch!How could someone so powerful have so little regard for himself? If the wound got infected, he would come away with fever, and then there was no telling what would happen. She took a deep breath, then took his arm and threw it over her shoulders. There was no time to be modest. She couldn’t make him wait while she donned her gown.
Her knees instantly bent from the force of his weight. Hades pushed off the wall, trying not to crush her. They slowly made their way down the corridor, with him slightly leaning against the wall while she guided him.
She opened the door and led him in. He took a few steps and crashed into the chair.
