"I'll be done in a moment," Callah said. "Come sit, Tobias."
I made my way over with Elijah grinning at me. "So this is the Mrs. Warren we've heard about, hm?"
"One should not gossip," Callah scolded, giving me a scathing glance.
I couldn't help but smile. "I said I was married. Mr. Ross recognized your name."
"Ayla was your sister?" she asked.
"She is," Elijah agreed, not even trying to pretend she was dead. "You knew her well, I assume?"
"I shared a space with her for ten years," Callah said. "Mr. Ross, your sister was always a brazen and headstrong girl. I can't say I'm surprised by her actions."
"Runs in the family, I think," Elijah said. "Our mother was just as willful. Our sister might be as well, but my little brother seems to be a very obedient boy. Father's side at work, I'm sure."
Callah just murmured, then finished tying off the bandage. "Mr. Ross, you will need to keep that clean. I'd recommend healing before returning to work, but it seems that isn't an option."
"No, it is not, Mrs. Warren. Thank you." And he slid off the bed. "All yours, Tobias. Just make sure you get some sleep too, mm?"
I chuckled once. "I will. Seems Mr. Peterson wants to talk to me after this is sewn."
Callah glanced around, checking the room. That made me turn to find most of the men were already heading out. Then again, many of the wounds had been minor. The serious ones had been killed too fast to save.
"I will need to cut your pants," she warned. "Just an opening, not off."
"And here I thought you were being forward, wife," I teased.
She rolled her eyes. "Tobias!" Then she lowered her voice. "Are you in trouble?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "The team lead died. I got these men back. I'm not sure what else I could've done, or how I could've done it better."
"Was it the Wyvern?"
I shook my head. "No. Wild men, mostly."
She bent and cut my pants in an X so she could reach the gash. "Should I bandage this or sew it? Either will work."
"What do you recommend? Callah, you're the healer."
That made her lift her eyes to mine again. The look in them? It made my heart stop. I didn't know what I'd done, but she was looking at me like I'd just performed some kind of miracle.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing," she muttered. "I think we'll leave it open. If you move too much with the stitches, they could tear."
"And I'll likely be using it for a while longer."
"Then hold something, because this is going to hurt." And she reached for the alcohol.
The splash was cold, the pain was hot, but it was only intense for a second. While the gash was still aching, she scrubbed the surface, removing the blood around it, then worked a bandage around my thigh. Her hands dove into my pants, around my leg, then repeated the process until she secured the whole thing.
"Will I see you tonight?" she asked.
"I don't know," I admitted, sliding off the bed. "If they let me return to my room, you'll be sleeping."
"Wake me," she said.
I clasped her arm. "Promise. Now get your own rest."
