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He smiled. “Did you know I love you?”
The words chilled her, not because she didn’t like to hear them, but because he had to be wounded and perhaps even dying to say that. She touched his stomach—and felt blood. “You’re hurt.”
“Um-hum.” He was chuckling.
“I don’t know why you find it funny. I almost died of worry.” She realized she was crying.
“Me too, I almost died.”
You should have listened to mewas on the tip of her tongue, but it wasn’t the time for that. All she wanted was to make sure he survived.
Naia placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll need to get some large piece of metal to put you over it. I can’t carry you, and I don’t want anyone to see you.”
As if it would help. They would have to cross the gate. She could perhaps put a sheet over him and pretend it was a soldier, perhaps even pretend it was her brother.
“No. I’ll get up. Take me inside. Directly. I… no glamour.”
Then people would see him. “The guards…”
He held her hand. “Help me get up. The hollow.”
Naia wasn’t sure if this was going to work, wasn’t even sure if he could get up, but pulled his hand and supported his back as he got up. River was hurt and she wanted to cry and yell and scream. She was so angry that she was sure she could crush the Iron Citadel if she went there right now.
River leaned on Naia and wrapped an arm around her. Slowly, the woods got darker around them, darker and darker, that oppressive darkness that felt as if it would swallow her.
“You have to look,” he whispered.
Naia opened her eyes and realized that there were some parts where it wasn’t as dark, as if they were faint lights in the distance, blurred by some kind of fog.
“Take me inside,” he added.
This was insanity. She took a step towards where she thought the fort was, and the lights shifted.
“See the place where you want to go.”
Naia looked down, and suddenly it was as if she were floating above the fort, but it didn’t feel real and three-dimensional, it was as if it were a small drawing on the ground, below a blurry glass. She moved to where Fel’s room would be. While she used to have a room there, she didn’t know if it was still unoccupied or if it was habitable. Fel’s was on the end of the hall on the second floor, remote enough to give her some privacy, and should have a proper bed, covers, everything.
They were right above his room. “What do I do now?”
“Is this the right place?” he asked.
“Yes.”
River held her close and now she felt the darkness pushing against her. Against them. She even feared making his wound worse, since she was touching it.
As that horrible feeling dissipated, she and River were in Fel’s room. The bed was made, but other than that, it had books everywhere and even some clothes on chairs. Fel, Fel. She missed him so much.
River sat on the bed. “See? I’m back.”
“Don’t lie down. Let’s get this shirt off.” She undid the buttons as fast as she could and tore it.
The gash across his stomach was deep and red and bleeding. Abdomen wounds could lead to death. She got up, glad that the dresser was complete with a jar of water, a soap, and a basin, so she took it and proceeded to clean the wound.
“Can I lie down?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice came out full of anger. Well, shewasangry. He had ignored her pleads not to go to Ironhold, and here he was, with that awful wound. She got up. “You need stitching. I’ll have to get someone.” Who could she call that wouldn’t tell anyone about River? Arry came to her mind, but she wasn’t sure he’d know how to do that.
River held her hand. “No need. We heal faster.”
