“Fine, Danes. I’m not the one who’s ill.”
I bit my lip uncertainly. His warm breath fanned my neck from behind me, making my body shudder involuntary.
“If you’re sure-“
“I’m tired.” He repeated “please, can we…focus on the situation?”
I hummed, not convinced but aware that I wouldn’t be getting anything out of him, and all conversation between us dropped from there, apart from a few quiet comments of his on how much better Zeltron was, mainly to wind me up. It worked, because in no universe was Zeltron better thanDraelon. As if.
Halfway there, Johnathan pulled his horse to a sudden stop as Stryker leant over to the side and heaved up the little he’d eaten the day before.
I cringed. “Water?” I offered as I hesitantly pulled up beside them, only because Matthew had told me to.
Stryker shook his head weakly, spitting to get rid of the acidic taste, pressing his hand to the elk wound.
“He’s burning” Johnathan muttered, palm on his forehead.
“Johnathan” Stryker said weakly, “I- I want to go home. Please say- say we’re nearly- nearly home.”
I winced.
“Not long, Stryker. It won’t take long. In fact, I think-“
He was cut off by Strykerpassing out. Jesus.
When wefinallygot to the Aisen’s household, Stryker was shivering badly and his skin was so pale it was scary. He had stayed stubbornly unconscious until only minutes before we arrived at his house, and even then he looked so disoriented that the only thing he did was let out a quiet moan and press his hand to his wound. Johnathan gently lowered him from the horse and kept him in his arms whilst I anxiously knocked on the door. It opened on the sixth knock, an annoyed looking young woman folding her arms.
At first I thought she must be his mother, but she was way too young. She was hot, too: curvy, with dark hair and milky skin along with sapphire blue eyes instead of dark ones like Stryker’s, but they shared the same intense glare that I’d been greeted with on my first day in the army by…her brother? I recalled, in that very moment, that his mum had died when he was a baby, which left me to assume that this was his sister, Armelle.
“What happened?” She asked sharply after having taken in the scene, pushing past me as though I weren’t even there and rushing over to her brother.
“His wound got infected” Johnathan explained softly “might be sepsis. We thought we should bring him to his dad first. He’s in, right?”
“Yes, yes he’s-“
“Armelle?” Stryker asked blearily, blinking up at her.
“Yes, it’s- it’s me, yes. Gosh, Stryker, look at the state of you-DAD!”
“Armelle, I’m busy, who’s at the…?Stryker?”
“They think it’s sepsis,” Armelle said quietly. Their dad- a man that looked remarkably like an older version of Stryker, but with a short beard and Armelle’s eyes,jogged down the stairs and took his son off Johnathan to deposit him on the couch.
I hesitantly stepped in “you sure about that? Because the couch might get stained and it looks pretty expensive-”
Stryker’s dad waved me off, and Matthew leaned down to whisper that that was a stupid thing to say considering his son hadsepsis.
He was right. I winced at myself.
“Can you get him a glass of water?” The man asked me, then he nodded towards Armelle “get the jacket and shirt off. Johnathan, run down to the healers, say it’s urgent.”
“Dad” Stryker said quietly “it hurts”
“Yeah, I know it does, Mischief, I know.”
Once Armelle had managed to get his shirt off, I watched her fight a gag, just like the rest of us had.
“It’s disgusting” Stryker said weakly, taking in her expression “I know. Infected injuries tend to be.”
