“Be careful with him,” I rasped, trying to catch Maz as they hauled him out of the wagon like a dead animal.
They ignored me, and I buckled under Maz’s weight. They were gone by the time I rolled Maz off me. I buckled my knives to my waist and stumbled around until I figured out where we were. Not far from our apartment.
But I couldn’t carry him alone.
I ran to the nearest doors and pounded on them. The few people that answered took one look at my bloodied appearance and slammed the door in my face before I could speak a word.
“Gods damn it!” I screamed at the sky.
But it wasn’t their fault. Not really. Just like the woman and her brother. People were afraid. And they had every right to be.
I huddled near Maz, searching for his pulse again. Still there, but gods, I was running out of time. I could try to find Aiden. But he might still be with Melaena. I couldn’t leave Maz for that long.
I smoothed Maz’s blood-soaked hair away from his slack face. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. Then I carefully hooked my hands in his armpits—where the skin was untouched—and began to heave.
We’d made it ten feet when I heard footsteps pounding toward us. I cradled Maz to the dusty ground and whipped out two of my knives.
“Kiera!”
“Aiden,” I choked out, sheathing my knives.
Aiden sprinted toward me, his eyes wide with fear. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He seized my arms, searching forwounds. Then his gaze fell to Maz, and he jerked backward. “Maz?”
I wanted to crumple in his arms and finally release my anguish, but that wouldn’t help Maz.
“I—I found him like this. I tried to get him to our rooms. The blood is all his.”
Aiden knelt next to him, expertly surveying the damage Korvin had done. “No one followed you?”
I shook my head.
“He must’ve been tortured and dumped here as a warning—like Asher,” he muttered. “Stay with me, brother,” he added to Maz. Then he crouched and slid Maz’s bloody bulk onto his shoulders.
Maz moaned and twitched.
“Hurry,” Aiden said, his face contorted. “This will hurt him. Get his cot ready.”
I flew ahead, my boots barely touching the ground. I raced up the steps to our rooms and ripped the blankets off Maz’s cot. I poured all the water we had into a basin and collected clean towels and Aiden’s medicine kit.
Aiden stumbled into the room, his breathing harsh. “Help me,” he gritted out.
Together, we eased Maz onto his stomach on his cot. Aiden tugged off his cloak and washed his hands.
“I don’t have enough medicine to stop the bleeding,” he said in a rough, strident tone I’d never heard. His eyes never left Maz’s back. “Go to Sophie and ask her if she has any silvertree powder left.”
“What about the clawberry paste? Can’t you?—”
“I don’t have enough, and it won’t work on raw flesh.Go.”
I fled.
The next hour was something from one of my nightmares.
Sophie didn’t have any more of the powder. But a woman who’d recently suffered an amputated leg had some. I sprinted across the quarter to find the woman and demand her powder. She gave up the half-full tin with wide eyes.
Night fell on my way back. The unmistakable shadows of Wolves lurked down the alleys, so I heaved myself onto the rooftops and kept running. Running, jumping, flying.
My previous theory had been right. Fear mattered little when I would do anything to reach Maz with the medicine that might save his life.
