“Ellmo,” she says. “I need exactly one hundred white shells from the beach to clean the pan after lunch. If you bring me too many, I’ll make you go fetch them again. Go now, or your food will be cold.”
He scurries out so quickly that the door slams behind him. Olive takes the pan off the heat, then turns to us. “He’ll be gone for a while. He gets a bit mixed up once he gets past the sixties.”
“You need shells to clean the pan?” I say.
“No, but he needed a task.” She dries her hands on a towel, then busies herself with arranging the food on some plates.
Erik is still looking at me. “Have you done it?” he says.
I hesitate, then bite my lip. “No?”
His eyes just about bug out of his head, so I rush on, “I’m an apothecary, not a surgeon! I watched my father do it a few times in the Wilds, though. And I’ve stitched up plenty of wounds. I can be quick.”
“And I can help,” says Olive. “I’ve watched a lot more than a few times.”
He swears again. “Fine. There’s plenty of liquor in the chests from the ship. Get two bottles.”
“Two?”
“Yeah,” he says roughly. “One is for me.”
Despite my promise, I’m not quick.
The stab wound is far deeper than I thought, and it seems I cut pus and inflamed skin away forever. In the beginning, Erik is stoic and nearly silent, but as time wears on, he’s cursing Rian and his crew, cursing Prince Corrick, cursing me and Olive—especially every time I flush the wound with alcohol. He sweats through his clothes twice over, and a few times I’ve worried we should tie him down, but Olive always draws him back, wiping away sweat or telling him a story or being sharp when he needs a distraction from the pain. She also pours a good dose of liquor down his throatwhen he needs it. When Ellmo returned with a hundred shells, Olive told him to take his lunch to “keep watch” by the docks.
She’s quick thinking and kind, despite her brusqueness, and I really like her. Working with her is as easy as working with Karri, and it’s odd that I only met her a day ago. I feel as though I’ve known her for far longer.
Eventually, Erik’s blood runs bright red, and there’s no sign of pus or mottled skin. His eyes have gone heavy-lidded, and Olive drags a cloth across his forehead.
Erik shakes his head. “No . . . ?no more,” he says, and his words slur together. “No more, Misssss Tesssssa.”
“No more,” I agree, packing clean muslin around the wound and binding it in place. “You can rest now.”
“It looks much better,” Olive says to me quietly. “You did a good job.”
“I’m glad you were here,” I say, then hesitate. “I really don’t think he could’ve gone much longer.”
“Probably not. But he’ll be no good for the rest of the day.” Olive pats him on the cheek and begins to move away. “Be a good soldier and don’t wet the bed.”
“I’m not a soldier.” He reaches out and catches her hand loosely. “Why don’t you be a good nurse and stay awhile?”
Olive giggles and we exchange a glance. “Well now,” she says. “I suppose he’snotyour husband.”
“I’m not anyone’s husband,” he slurs, sounding aggrieved. He doesn’t let go of her hand. “But you’re very pretty. Maybe one day I could beyour—”
“That’senough, Erik,” I say, taking hold of his hand and pulling him free. “You can say anything you want when you’ve got yourwits about you.” I set his hand back on the bed, and his eyes flicker closed.
But just as I’m about to shut the door, his voice calls me back. “Stay close, Miss Tessa.”
I pause with my hand on the frame. “I will.”
“I promised him I would keep you safe, too. I have to keep one promise.”
For a breath of time, I can’t move. I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “You will,” I say. “I’ll be right here.”
Back in the kitchen, Olive unwraps the cheese sandwiches, which are still a bit warm, while I rinse my hands in the basin. Then she lights a fire under the kettle and finds the small sack of coffee that Rian gave me yesterday. Again, there’s a weird comfort to her presence. We’re both quiet, and I know she heard what he said. Despite what we just did, and despite the ease we had in working together, Idon’tknow her very well at all, and I don’t know how much to say about it.
The silence is too much to bear, though, especially while I’m rinsing Erik’s blood and sweat off my skin. “Thank you,” I say. “I really don’t think I would’ve been able to do that alone.”
