The knife wound was more difficult.
A Wolf’s sunstone blade had jagged edges due to only being sharpened on more sunstone. The cuts were never smooth. Skin gave way to sunstone like torn parchment.
While I was creating a sealing paste with my precious few clawberries, Maz returned.
“How is she?” he asked immediately.
“The same.” I carefully pinched her skin together and slathered the thick, sticky paste over the seam.
“It’s my fault,” Ruru whispered, staring at Kiera’s pale face with a look I knew all too well. “If I hadn’t led her to that alley... If I knew how to fight better...”
“Thinking of every possibility but the truth only makes it harder to accept.” I finished dabbing the last bit of paste on her cut, her chest now a mess of green gunk. But no blood. “And the truth is it’s not your fault, Ruru. Shadow-Wolves did this. They alone are to blame.”
He sniffled while I pulled the blanket up over her chest. Enough to keep her warm but well away from the paste.
Now she just needed to wake up. I’d seen people with head injuries who slept until death. I prayed the knife hilt hadn’t caused more damage than I could see.
It was one of the reasons I never wanted to be a true healer. Too many times, healing coupled with hopelessness in a way I couldn’t bear. Even for strangers.
Yet I maintained what skills I had to be of use when I could. My way of bringing a little light into a world I’d smudged with darkness.
My throat grew tight as I gazed down at Kiera.
Wake up, little thief. Don’t let them win.
Don’t leave me.
I blinked at the startling thought. Clearing my throat, I left Ruru holding Kiera’s hand and began to clean up the mess I’d made.
Maz leaned against the doorframe between the rooms and watched as I repacked the medical bag, tossed the dirty water out the window, and poured some fresh water in the basin. Iset it on our table and washed my hands, then raked my fingers through my hair. The cool water trickled down my scalp.
“Aiden—” Maz started in that calming, understanding tone that tore through my defenses like knife through muscle.
“Did you secure the warehouse?” I cut in, staring out the window.I am free. I am alive. As are Maz, Ruru, and Kiera.
“Yes.” A chair creaked as Maz eased into it. “I saw no one, heard nothing. The cargo is accounted for. I grabbed the pack of darts and venom Skelly brought me, but left everything else. The horses and wagons are back at their stable.”
“Good.” I slowly sat in another chair and gave Maz a weary nod. “Thank you, brother.”
He nodded back. “Any news from the Temple?”
“Librius is still making good progress, and training is going well.”
“Any word from Nikella?”
“No. But she’ll be here soon enough.”
Maz leaned forward, stroking his short beard. “And what of our little dancer? Will she be ready, do you think?”
I looked toward the window once more. Dark clouds hid the moon and stars. The fitful breeze that drifted in smelled of rain. “If she wakes up,” I said in a rough voice.
Maz grasped my arm and squeezed. “She will, Aiden. She’s a fighter. Don’t mourn what you haven’t yet lost.”
I met his solemn gaze. I envied his ability to have hope, to shed the weight of fear. But I also thanked the gods for it.
“I’m assuming you want first watch?” he asked, heading over to his cot and tugging off his boots. “Though you might have to knock Ruru unconscious for the privilege.”
My lips twitched with a spark of humor. “I’ll barter with him. Sleep well, Mazkull.”
