From the corner of her eye, she saw a man with gray hair bolt down the street. Had that been Zander?
“Go inside, Finn,” Venn said, his voice rough. “Stay with your sisters.”
The boy’s face was terrified, but he scrambled away, leaving them.
Vera’s pulse was ragged—too fast, then too slow. Staring into Venn’s fierce but panicked eyes, there were so many things she wanted to say. But her awareness was fading, and so was her strength.
She sagged forward and he caught her, his hand pressed against her bleeding side as he held her. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.
Venn’s hard chest shuddered beneath her. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”
Blackness encroached the edges of her vision, and her words were weak as she tried to tell him what she meant—the only thing that mattered. “I . . . love you.”
His breath hitched. “You . . .?”
She couldn’t see him anymore. Couldn’t see anything. And with her last exhale—before even her mind went dark—she breathed, “I’m sorry.”
Awareness prickled, forcing Vera’s eyes open. She was lying on a bed in a darkened room, moonlight coming through the window.The inn.
Her waist was cinched with bandages, and the tightness was almost painful as it constricted her breaths. Or perhaps it was painful because her side burned.
She glanced to her right, and a knot in her chest loosened when she saw Finn and Sarah curled together on their bedrolls, sleeping near the far wall. Rebecca was swaddled and lying on another bedroll nearby.
Venn.
She twisted her head—careful not to move the rest of her aching body—and she found him. He was slouched in a hard-backed chair beside the bed, long legs sprawled in front of him, his head lying at a painful angle against his shoulder. His chest rose and fell as he slept, and his arms were loosely folded. She could just make out the swelling in his knuckles, and she could see the crack in his lip and the darkening bruise on his cheek. Thankfully, she didn’t see any other signs of injury.
She swallowed, the motion painful because her mouth and throat were so dry. The bedside table held a glass of water and she reached for it, but she froze as her side slashed in pain. She hissed out a breath, and Venn’s eyes snapped open.
He straightened sharply in the chair as his gaze cut to her. His voice low so as not to wake the children. “Careful. The physician said you should stay still.”
Vera eased back onto her pillow, pain still rippling from her side. “Finn,” she whispered, her voice rasping more than expected. “He was hurt.”
“Just bruised,” Venn said. “He’ll be fine.”
Vera met his gaze. “And you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t sound fine. He sounded . . .livid.
Before she could ask why, Venn lifted the glass of water. “There’s some medicine in here. Something that will help with the pain.”
She eyed the glass. “Will it make me sleep?”
He nodded.
“Then I don’t want it. Not yet.” She swallowed dryly. “Could I just have some water?”
Venn’s dark eyebrows pulled together. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t argue, just grabbed another glass and filled it. Then he moved to the edge of his chair, one hand sliding under her head so he could help her drink.
The water was a balm on her dry and scratching throat, and she nearly groaned as she swallowed. When she was done, Venn retracted his hand so she could lay back on the pillow.
She missed the contact immediately.
