He’s hurt.
Four guards stood outside a door.
“Girl, that’s enough. Let’s go upstairs.” Torvin reached for my arm, but I strode forward, ripping out of his reach.
“Kairos is in there,” I snarled to the guard.
They glanced at each other.
I balled my fists. “Out of my way, or I’ll start breaking runes on your body.”
Torvin grabbed me.
“Stop,” Kairos’s dark voice boomed from inside. “Let her in.”
Torvin swore, letting me go. The guards parted for me.
I kicked the door open.
It slammed against the wall—crack. Elwen whipped around, hand flying to her dagger. A young healerdropped the roll of bandages she’d been holding. Uther had his sword half-drawn. His gaze landed on me, and he laughed, sheathing his blade.
The room was a storage chamber converted into an infirmary. Bloodied rags lay heaped in a basin. Bottles of salves and poultices crowded a table and the air reeked of copper and medicinal herbs.
Uther leaned against a crate, Elwen standing beside him.
Kairos sat on a chair, covered in blood. He bared his teeth, his skin glistening with sweat.
The world narrowed to the crimson soaking through the linen at his ribs. My heart plunged so fast it made my vision blur.
“What happened?” I said hoarsely.
Elwen gestured at him. “Hit by an arrow laced with a bleeding rune. Makes the wound reopen. Stitches are useless.”
“Torvin mentioned you arrived in the morning.” Cold rushed through me. “You’ve been like this the whole time?”
“This is nothing.”
“That’s what he said three hours ago,” Uther muttered. “Right before he bled through his fourth bandage.”
I rushed to his side, torn between stanching the bleeding and screaming at him. Why didn’t he send for me?
I felt his pain, itching under my skin. The pool of blood reminded me of the palace. How I’d almost lost him then.
Kairos straightened, paler than I’d ever seen him, and more blood oozed out. “I’ll be fine. Eventually.”
I swung my glare to Elwen. “Why didn’t you send for me immediately?”
“His fault,” Elwen huffed. “The fool made me swear not to.”
Hurt throbbed, deep inside me. I whirled on the young healer by the supply table. Her hands trembled around a jar of salve. “You stood by while his injury kept tearing open?”
Her eyes widened. “I—the king ordered?—”
“Your job is toheal, not follow stupid commands from idiot males who’d rather die than admit they need help!”
Uther snickered.
I spun to him. “And you! You’re his best friend. You’re supposed to talk sense into him.”
