Panicked, I instantly searched around me and found a decent-sized rock. I hurled it for the man’s head, and it made a cracking noise on impact. He gripped his head and cried out in distress, and Quill saw his opportunity and plunged his sword into the man’s back.
He cried out and tumbled to the ground just before the pond, his eyes unfocused as his head fell to the grass.
Blood. There was so much blood.
I panted, my eyes averting to Quill as he stared at the bodies in horror.
As quickly as they had arrived, they were all gone.
Chapter Ten
Quilljuststoodthere,breathing heavily and trembling as he gaped down at the bodies of the men he just killed. The blood on his sword was dripping atop the blades of grass he stood on.
He shifted to me, his look filled with nothing but shame. He stared back down at the bodies, and I knew immediately I needed to comfort him. I exited the pond, quickly squeezed out my hair, and dressed while Quill still fixated on the deceased men.
I softly touched the back of his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you had to do that, Quill…” my voice cracked. He turned towards me, and my eyes flashed down to his chest, which was still bleeding.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath. I grabbed my dagger and used it to cut off the bottom of my dress.
“What are you doing?”
“This will soak through quickly, but it’s better than nothing.” I wrapped the fabric over his wound and around his shoulder, tying it together. He winced.
Gods, my palms, they were burning. Why were they burning?
“I’m sorry you had to see me do that…” His voice was hoarse and laced with shame.
I touched his cheek and met his eyes, ignoring the ache in my hands.
“You havenothingto be sorry for.” My eyes trailed back to the bodies before us. They weren't the first dead bodies I had seen, not the first people to be slayed to save my life. I suppressed a shudder.
“We need to get to my house and get you stitched up,” I said as I examined the gash across his chest.
“No.” He shook his head. “I-I need to get home—”
“Absolutely not, Quill!”
I’m sure his parents would want that, but Mother and I knew how to do stitches well, and we also had healing elixirs that were better than anything anyone could give him in the kingdom.
I wish Mother could just heal him. I wish I knew how to heal him.
I sighed. But stitches and an elixir would do.
Quill bent down and wiped his sword on one of the men’s shirts, clenching his jaw as he did it.
“Let me carry your sword for you.”
“Lena—” he began, and I gave him an annoyed look. He sighed. “Very well.”
I slung his sword carrier over my body, and he sheathed it for me. It was heavier than I expected. He slipped on his shirt and cloak, wincing in pain, and we gave one last look at the men and all the blood before we left.
Between Quill’s black shirt and dark cloak, it was fairly simple making it back without alerting anyone he was injured. We strode as hastily as we could without arousing suspicion, Quill keeping his face a mask of calm.
Mother greeted us with a big grin as we entered the house, which turned into a frown when she observed my torn dress. I instructed Quill to sit on the couch in our living area and to take off his shirt, and Mother’s expression then went from confusion to shock as she saw Quill’s bloodied make-shift bandage.
“My Gods, what happened?” she breathed as she placed a hand on her chest.
I went into one of our cabinets that contained our first-aid supplies.
